A good number of people, but not all of them. Those who could had tried to flee, but there’d been no airships then. The only escape lay across the water—and Ireland was the nearest destination that wasn’t teeming with zombies.
The people on the first ships to Dublin had been allowed to disembark. But those ships had been full of panic and rumors of infection, and the city had recently lost a large number of its population to a plague, so the Irish had set up a blockade at the mouth of the bay and began ordering new arrivals to turn away. The English refused, and soon the sea had been teeming with boats waiting for entry, some of the passengers taking the risk of rowing to shore or attempting to sail farther along the coast—until the Lord Mayor of Dublin had ordered cannons to fire on the largest ship, Resolution, as a warning of what would happen to them all if they didn’t leave.
The drastic action had the desired effect, but that hadn’t been the only ship sunk. Several dozen that left Dublin had also been lost in the North Sea and while trying to cross the Atlantic.
“Fox told me that, aside from the fishing boats, most of those who’d managed to escape England only did because they could afford to go—and that all of the valuables they took with them had likely sunk, too.”
“The Irish always denied it ever happened,” Georgiana said.
“But people saw it, talked about it, wrote letters about it. Some painted the scene later. Fox had studied the letters and pictures, and told me where to find it.”
“And you did.” Her admiring look sent heat rushing under his skin. “Were only the coins left?”
“I don’t know.” Thom hadn’t stayed down long enough to look for anything else. “As soon as I saw the chest, I knew it would be enough. There were five thousand coins in it.”
Georgiana’s mouth opened. No sound came out. She plopped back into her chair, looking astounded.
Thom imagined he’d looked the same when he’d first come across the chest. “Fox had given me the name of a salvage dealer in Brighton. So I took one of the coins in. He called it a Carolus Broad—one of the last English coins minted before the invasion. He said he’d had a collector eager to know if any came in. He gave me that collector’s offer, but also told me that the offer was lower than the value of the gold itself, and that, considering where I’d found them, I could take in more at auction or ask for a higher price. I wanted to bring the coins to you first, anyway, so I told the dealer to make his inquiry and send word to me in Skagen.”
“So you were coming home with a chest of gold,” she said softly.
“Enough to buy mechanical flesh if these arms wouldn’t do.”
Her chest hitched. “Oh, Thom. They would have.”
But he’d been too late, either way. He’d had these arms when she’d agreed to separate. “At least it was something worth bringing home. Something I could have given you when I left.”
“The gold?”
He nodded. “That’s a husband’s duty: earning enough to support his family.”
“‘And a man doesn’t deserve to come home unless he’s done it.’ Yes, so I’ve heard my father say.” She rose to her feet and paced a few steps, rubbing her forehead with the tips of her fingers—a gesture Thom had seen many others make when they were frustrated or tired, though he’d never formed the habit himself. Skeletal iron fingers didn’t smooth away tension well.
She faced him again, eyes narrowed. “Was this salvage dealer the only man who knew you’d found the coins?—but you met him before. So the dealer is not the same man as on this airship.”
“The collector he contacted knew, too.”
“You increased the price. Maybe it was more than the collector could pay—or he realized that hiring a band of mercenaries would cost far less.”
That would fit. “So he came to take it rather than make another offer.”
Georgiana nodded, blew out a sharp breath. He could imagine what she was thinking—the man had tried to kill him rather than make another offer, too. This task he wanted Thom to do probably wouldn’t end any differently.
Her eyes met his for a long minute before she stepped closer to his chair. Her hand lifted to his face. Just a gentle touch, her fingertips sliding over his bearded jaw, but need slapped him hard, turning his body into one thick ache. Hanging at his sides, his hands clenched to fists. He wouldn’t grab her, haul her onto his lap. He wouldn’t take her sweet mouth with his.
But smoking hells, he wanted to. And Georgiana had to see it. Her gaze was arrested on his face, her lips parting. Her fingers had stilled on his jaw, then her focus dropped and he felt the light brush of her thumb against the corner of his mouth.
“Georgie,” he said roughly.
Her eyes closed. With a sigh, she turned her face away, her gaze sliding around the stateroom. “We need to search this cabin,” she said. “Maybe we’ll find something to aid in our escape.”
Always practical, his Georgie. And she was right. He nodded against her hand.
“Let’s look, then.”
FOUR
The search needed to be done, but it was also a mindless task, and Georgiana desperately needed the time to think on everything that Thom had told her.
Her husband was such a good man. A far more fascinating man than she’d realized. And knowing why he’d stayed away left Georgiana ashamed and angry at herself now.
She had asked him to hold her in his arms every night. Of course, she hadn’t meant it so literally—and the important part hadn’t been his arms, but that he would be there every night.
She’d been so thoughtless. Cruelly and selfishly so. Why had she never imagined how such words might sound to a man whose arms had been replaced with iron? And she’d never explained what she’d meant, or why it mattered, so that he wouldn’t mistake her meaning. She hadn’t told him of her mother. Why had she assumed that he would know exactly what she’d wanted? As if it had been his responsibility to perfectly interpret her every thought and desire.
Oh, and this was the very worst time to think about whose fault it was that her marriage had fallen apart. What did any of it matter if they didn’t survive this? She had to be clever and focus on their escape, not think of the past.
She had to be clever. Even a few days ago, Georgiana would have said she was. Also sensible and intelligent. Her lack of understanding of the man she’d married dealt a shattering blow to that belief. Her gaze had been so limited and narrow. Searching the horizon for his ship, but never seeing anything but herself.
With a heavy sigh, she pulled open the final drawer in the writing desk. Nothing there. Either wealthy people didn’t keep anything that could be used as a weapon in their staterooms, or this cabin had already been cleared out.
Holding the mattress angled up with one hand, Thom turned away from his examination of the bed frame. “Nothing?”
“No. If I were more clever, I would know how to make an escape balloon with the lamp and the skirts cut from my dresses. I’d sew them together and we’d fly off.”
“I’ll be glad to take a ride under your skirts, Georgie.”
“Thom!” So outrageous. And wonderful. She blushed and laughed, shaking her head.
His response was a grin that she felt down to her toes. A man of few words, but he didn’t need many. He could lift her from sorrow and shame with the widening of his mouth and a laughing flash of his teeth.
Why had he never teased her in such a bold way before? Was this new—or another part of him that he’d hidden? Wherever it stemmed from, she hoped he would continue. Forever, if possible. But forever could only happen if they escaped.