Georgiana’s breath stopped. She turned to stare into the water again, her ears filled with the squawking of seagulls and the gasping thrust of the pump, and her mind filled with thoughts of leaking balloons.
It was a terrible idea. Incredibly stupid and dangerous. And it would also take away every advantage Southampton had over them. Right now, she and Thom were outgunned. But no one would dare fire a pistol on an airship with a leaking balloon. And they couldn’t have escaped in the lifeboat now, because the flyer would simply catch up to them—but not if her balloon had been compromised.
Oh, but they would be taking such a risk. A single spark could destroy them all.
Yet some chance of escape was still much better than having no chance.
She spent the next hour weighing the risks over and over, trying to minimize every one. By the time she spotted the bubbles breaking against the surface, Georgiana knew that it would be their escape plan. Not at all clever, but it was the best they had.
As long as they could delay Southampton for a little longer. It did not even have to be until that night—just until Thom recovered from his dive.
This time, Thom didn’t haul himself up the tether with the air hose coiled at his side, but gripped the edge of the platform and dragged himself out of the water, a bulging canvas sack in his left hand. He dropped it onto the boards with a heavy thunk—and the unmistakable clink of coins.
With his help, Georgiana worked his diving helmet off. His eyes were bloodshot again, his face pale and sweating.
The dome had not even cleared his head when he asked, “Are you all right, Georgie?”
She laughed. “That is my question to you. I’m fine, Thom. Are you?”
Beside them, Mrs. Winch crouched in front of the canvas sack. “You brought up what you were supposed to?”
“A bloody fortune,” Thom said. “Five thousand gold pieces and no weapons. Open it and look.”
Winch did, her eyes widening. “There’s five thousand here? Southampton said it was only half that.”
“He must have been mistaken,” Georgiana said.
“He must have.” Winch stood and clanked on the platform chain, signaling to the airship. The boards jolted under Georgiana’s feet. Her heart began to pound. The gold had been retrieved. Their task for Southampton done.
“Thom still needs to haul up his air hose, Mrs. Winch!” she called over the rattling chains. “Or he won’t be able to return for the submersible.”
Winch glanced at her. “That’ll be up to his lordship, Mrs. Thomas.”
And the bastard would either be greedy enough to stay another day, or Thom would bring it all down. Georgiana clutched his hand through the wet canvas glove and tried to resist when he subtly moved her behind him, until he said quietly, “I’m covered in brass armor, Georgie. Let me protect you a bit.”
That was sensible—and terrifying. She was almost dizzy with fear by the time the platform clanked against the side of the hull.
Wearing a cold little smile, Southampton stood waiting for them at the gangway, with the band of mercenaries behind him. “You didn’t release the tether from the wreck, Big Thom. I hope this doesn’t mean you returned empty-handed.”
“It only means that my submersible is still down there. I’ll go back for it tomorrow.”
Southampton’s gaze lit on the bulging canvas bag. “But you retrieved my gold?”
“I did. All five thousand.”
Southampton looked to Mrs. Winch, whose mouth flattened as she nodded her confirmation.
Thom continued, “You don’t have to worry that I’ll make a claim on those coins or mention to anyone that I ever laid eyes on them. But that boat down there is all I have to support us . . . and I can sell the submersible on it for thirty livre, enough to buy another ship. That’ll get my wife and me back on our feet when you return us home.”
Oh, Thom. Georgiana squeezed his hand. So very clever. At their dinner, Southampton had spoken of his noble family’s honor and duty, and now Thom appealed to him like a vassal appealing to his lord. If Thom had been appealing in fact, this would have been impossible for him—but her husband probably liked using Southampton’s supposed honor against him.
And Southampton still wouldn’t let them live, but he’d no doubt enjoy playing the generous noble until he put a bullet in their heads.
“A word, your lordship?” Mrs. Winch left the platform and drew Southampton forward along the deck. Georgiana didn’t hear anything of what Winch said to him, but she could well imagine. The value of the submersible might be enough to keep her mercenaries from feeling they’d been cheated, given that the gold Southampton had was worth twice what he’d said he owed the Crown.
Relief almost knocked Georgiana’s knees from under her when she saw Southampton’s nod.
He returned to the gangway, a pleasant smile fixed around his mouth. “Forgive me. Of course I would never deny you the means to support your family, Big Thom—especially as you’ve done my family so great a service. We will stay until tomorrow, then.”
Good enough. They only needed tonight.
The pains soon hit Thom again, though not so hard. He’d taken a longer time coming up and hadn’t been down so long. Georgiana still worried every second, checking his temperature for fever and doing her best to soothe him.
As soon as he slept, she began to prepare. She rolled up two blankets and strapped them together, so they would be easy to carry on her back. When their noontime meal arrived, she requested extra bread for her sick husband, then made a satchel from the skirts of her pink dress and stuffed into it everything from their plates that wouldn’t leak. Coats and hats and gloves and scarves. Thom only had one change of clothes, but she dressed in her warmest wool, with two pairs of stockings.
When he woke, she had everything ready and had settled into the chair by his bed. There were still several more hours to wait. Fewer mercenaries would be on watch late at night, and any bit of fire would be easier to spot and extinguish.
Thom sat up in the bed, his gaze searching her face. “You’ve thought of it.”
“Yes.” She drew a deep breath. “We have to cut open the balloon.”
His big body tensed and he shook his head, as if in instinctive rejection. “If it catches fire, Georgie—”
“I know.” That was the reason it had taken her so long to think of this plan: Cutting open a balloon was simply unthinkable. “But when we come up from the porthole and onto the deck, we’ll have the advantage of surprising the watch. You’re strong enough to pierce the envelope?”
Not everyone would be. The metal fabric was made to withstand weather and birds and the weight of the ship. Georgiana doubted that she could stab a knife through—the blade would just slide across the envelope’s surface. But she didn’t have Thom’s arms.
“I can,” he said.
“Just the threat of ripping through it will make them run to smother all the flames on deck and sound the alarm. And after it’s leaking, not one would dare use his guns.”
Thom was nodding now. “They couldn’t come after us, either.”
“So we could lower the boat to the water,” she said. “Get in and go.”
He settled back against the pillows again. Frowning, thinking it over. She waited for him to decide.
With a heavy sigh, he said, “It’s a hell of a risk, Georgie.”
But that response meant he would take it.
“I know,” she said, and when he reached out and tugged on her fingers, she slid onto the bed and curled against him. His arms came around her, and she rested her head back against his shoulder.