Regency Debutantes: The Captain's Lady / Mistaken Mistress

‘You already know my name, ma’am?’ Georgiana’s brow lifted in surprise.

‘But of course, Nathaniel has told us all. And let’s dispense with all this “ma’am-ing”, please call me Mirabelle.’

Georgiana smiled at the small woman before her. ‘Thank you…Mirabelle, and, of course, you must call me Georgiana. But how did you come to know my name? Has my papa—?’

‘Forgive me, my dear.’ Lady Farleigh interrupted. ‘I’m ahead of myself as usual. Let me retell the story in full just as Nathaniel did.’

‘That would be very kind. Thank you, Mirabelle.’ Georgiana’s eyebrow twitched slightly, but she made no further comment as she leaned back against the pillows and prepared to listen.

Mirabelle settled herself into a chair close by the bed. ‘I had just visited baby Richard in the nursery when—’

A brisk knock rapped and not one, but two, gentlemen entered the bedroom.

Georgiana pulled the bedcovers higher to meet her chin and eyed them with suspicion.

Lady Farleigh gave a squeak of delight. ‘Nathaniel, Freddie! You’ve come to check upon poor Miss Raithwaite! What impeccable timing you have. I was just about to explain all about Nathaniel’s meeting with Mr Raithwaite, but now that you’re here I’ll leave all that to you. Miss Raithwaite is positively agog to know how we came to discover her name.’

An uncharitable thought popped into Georgiana’s mind.

Would Lord Nathaniel, whichever of the two men he happened to be, be able to squeeze a word in edgeways in the presence of the effusive Mirabelle? And then she had the grace to blush at her quite appalling lapse.

Nathaniel Hawke looked at the subtle play of emotions flitting so clearly across Miss Raithwaite’s surprisingly fine features. Curiosity followed suspicion, guilt trailed humour. Mirabelle’s chatter allowed him to study the girl with her pale skin and expressive eyes. Her long ebony-coloured hair splashed its dark luxury against the stark white of the nightgown, sweeping down to hang as two heavy curtains. Nathaniel experienced an urge to tangle his fingers in it. She was young, and a lady to boot. Two very good reasons why he should resist the compelling physical attraction he felt towards her.

Mirabelle had paused in her introductions and was pushing him forward with pride. ‘Nathaniel really is quite the hero despite his protestations.’

The grey-blue eyes glanced up to meet his…and stopped.

‘Miss Raithwaite, I’m glad to see that you’re somewhat recovered from your ordeal.’ He held her gaze, and smiled.

Georgiana’s mouth suddenly felt dry, and the room hot. Indeed, her cheeks burned uncommonly warm. ‘Sir,’ she managed to croak at the man standing before her. She owed him her life, of that she was certain. It was his strong arms that had pulled her from the river, his courage that had saved her from a watery grave. Those same dark eyes that had held such concern on the riverbank were now regarding her with amusement. The hair that had hung in sodden strands now sprang in mahogany-coloured curls around his rugged face. She should have proclaimed her gratitude from the very rooftops. But Miss Raithwaite, who had been raised to behave with the utmost decorum, suddenly found that it had deserted her, along with every other rational thought. For Lord Nathaniel Hawke was having a most peculiar effect upon her sensibilities. And she was certain that she did not care at all for such a situation.

The wicked smile crooked upon his face deepened as if he sensed the riot of emotion that roared within her. Dear Lord, surely he could do no such thing? The mere thought heightened the intensity of the two rosy patches glowing upon her otherwise pale cheeks. She cleared her raw throat and struggled to regain some measure of composure. ‘I’m very grateful to you.’ She glanced towards Lord Frederick standing further back. ‘I wouldn’t be here if it were not for you.’

Freddie smiled and stepped closer. ‘It was Nathaniel who went into the water to save you. My part was relatively minor in the whole affair.’ He looked towards his brother.

‘And where would both Miss Raithwaite and I be without your presence on the bridge?’ Nathaniel demanded. ‘I won’t take the credit for your part in the rescue.’ Turning once more to the girl, he offered an explanation. ‘Freddie pulled us from the water. Indeed, we both owe him our lives.’

Freddie’s face coloured in pleasure and he mumbled, ‘Nonsense.’

It seemed that Nathaniel was determined to share the glory.

‘Thank you both.’ Miss Raithwaite smiled shyly.

Freddie’s cheeks grew redder.

So his brother had noticed Miss Raithwaite’s attributes. The girl was undeniably fetching, but as the daughter of the owner of several coaching inns, she was strictly off limits to both of them. Neither marriageable material nor otherwise. He had best have a word with Freddie.

‘Miss Raithwaite,’ he continued, ‘before leaving Hurstborne Park I had the good fortune to meet your father and his companions. Naturally they were concerned about you, and I reassured them of your safety. Your family know that you’re here and will call as soon as possible.’

‘Oh,’ Georgiana Raithwaite said in a small voice. The memory of Mr Praxton’s outrageous actions appeared with clarity. Having survived the river, she now felt that her biggest ordeal was yet to come. Just for a moment a look of horror and desperation flitted across her face before she masked it once more with polite indifference. ‘Thank you, my lord, you’re most kind.’ She settled her wounded hands together in a demure gesture. Only Nathaniel noticed just how white her knuckles shone.

Nathaniel Hawke swirled the brandy around the finely engraved balloon glass. ‘Our Miss Raithwaite didn’t seem to regard being reunited with her family as entirely favourable. Did you see the expression upon her face when I mentioned her father?’

‘Mmm.’ Freddie regarded him quizzically as he lounged back in the winged chair. ‘You think there’s more to the matter than meets the eye?’

‘Perhaps. We shall discover soon enough.’

Gravel crunched from the drive and a carriage emptying its passengers sounded through the library window.

‘Mr Raithwaite,’ Freddie said distractedly. ‘Georgiana’s a fine-looking girl, don’t you think?’

Nathaniel’s face became somewhat grim. ‘Don’t get drawn down that line, little brother. There’s no dalliance to be had there. Miss Raithwaite is a coaching-inn owner’s daughter, albeit a wealthy one. Our father would most heartily disapprove, and you don’t want to risk becoming as black a sheep as me.’ He twitched an eyebrow, and offered an imitation of the Earl of Porchester’s voice, ‘Think of the scandal, dear boy, the scandal.’

Laughing, the brothers departed the library and went to meet Mr Edward Raithwaite.

Georgiana’s back scarcely felt the soft plumpness of the pillows supporting it. Nor did she notice the cosy warmth of the finely-stitched quilt covering the length of her body. Mirabelle had lent her a dressing gown and sent her own maid to dress her hair so that she might feel more comfortable with receiving visitors. But none of the small woman’s kindness could obliterate the uneasy feeling in the pit of Georgiana’s stomach. She stretched a smile upon her mouth and turned to face her stepfather.

‘Georgiana, thank goodness you’re safe and well. Your poor mother is distraught with worry. She’s taken the headache and been forced to bed,’ Mr Raithwaite chided his stepdaughter, but his relief was plain for all to see.

‘Poor Mama, I didn’t mean to worry her.’

‘Quite so, quite so.’ He nodded. ‘I dread to think what would have happened without the quick actions of the two gentlemen. We would have lost you for sure.’

‘I’m sorry to have caused such distress, Papa, but—’

‘And how did you come to fall into the river? Do you know no better than a child?’

Georgiana lowered her eyes. ‘I …’ She paused. ‘There…’

Mr Praxton stepped forward, looking immaculate in his green coat. ‘I’m sure Georgiana has had ample time to consider her folly in strolling so close to the river’s edge. She’s given herself a nasty fright as well as the rest of us, and is not likely to repeat the same mistake again.’ He touched a hand to Edward Raithwaite’s sleeve. ‘Mr Raithwaite, I beg of you, don’t be too hard on the girl.’

‘You’re too damned soft with her, Praxton,’ the old man growled, then spoke to his daughter once more. ‘Do you hear how Mr Praxton pleads your excuses? And what have you to say in your defence?’

Walter Praxton threw a long-suffering smile at Lady Farleigh. The indulgent suitor to perfection.

It did not escape Georgiana’s notice. Neither did Lady Farleigh’s subtle knowing nod.

Her body tensed in anger. Walter Praxton was a conniving knave. And it seemed he had hoodwinked them all. Well, if he thought her fool enough to stay silent over the precise cause of her winter plunge, he had another think coming. ‘Papa, I have no excuses, only reasons. As they are of a delicate nature, I would prefer to discuss them with you in private.’

Mr Raithwaite looked at her knowingly. ‘Mr Praxton has already spoken to me of the matter, and, much as I cannot pretend that I’m happy with your behaviour—’ he stroked his chin ‘—I understand that young women are somewhat excitable in response to such declarations.’

‘Exactly what has Mr Praxton revealed?’ Georgiana’s grey-blue eyes glittered dangerously, her temper soaring by the minute.

‘Georgiana!’ He glanced apologetically at Lady Farleigh. ‘Have a care with your manners. Now is clearly not the time to discuss the matter.’ His countenance was turning ruddier by the minute.

‘Oh, please do excuse me, Mr Raithwaite, Mr Praxton, Georgiana,’ Lady Farleigh said. ‘I’ve just recalled a pressing matter downstairs.’ Mirabelle fluttered out of the bedroom and straight to the library to apprise her relatives of the news that the delectable Miss Raithwaite had indulged in scandalous behaviour with Mr Praxton. And who could blame her with such a thoroughly handsome beau?

Georgiana looked from her father to Mr Praxton and back again. ‘Lady Farleigh has left us. Surely we can speak of the matter now.’ Her teeth gripped firmly together.

‘You’re trying my patience, girl. When will you learn to leave things be? Is it not enough that you’ve…that you behaved in such a way? Your mother would be shocked to hear of it. Mr Praxton and I have decided that Mrs Raithwaite should not learn of your actions prior to this afternoon’s incident. We informed her only of the betrothal.’ Mr Raithwaite nodded sagely.

She could feel the steady pulse beating at her neck, pumping the anger throughout her body. ‘I don’t know what untruths Mr Praxton has told you but be assured, Papa, that I’ve done nothing dishonourable. I’m neither compromised nor ruined, and marriage to Mr Praxton is not necessary. You may tell the truth to Mama.’

‘Enough!’ Mr Raithwaite said. ‘I’ll hear no more. Mr Praxton has confessed the truth of those stolen kisses. As a gentleman, he felt it his implicit duty to do so.’ His cheeks bulged a puce discoloration. ‘He will make you a good husband, Georgiana.’

Walter Praxton was fairly glowing with angelic piety. ‘I’m afraid Miss Raithwaite has stolen my heart, sir.’ He sighed and glanced down at the rug.

Mr Raithwaite looked at him strangely. ‘Then you had best take more care of her. She is not yet your wife, Mr Praxton.’

Their eyes locked for a few silent moments before the younger man inclined his head in subtle compliance.

The elderly hand moved to stroke the grizzled beard. ‘That said, I believe the wedding should be convened with some haste.’

The blood beat strongly in Georgiana’s ears. How could her stepfather take the word of an acquaintance over hers? Did he truly judge her character so lightly? ‘Papa,’ she tried again.

Edward Raithwaite turned a steely eye upon his stepdaughter. ‘Say no more, Georgiana. It’s clear that your experience this afternoon has adversely affected your mind. I trust that a good night’s rest will return you to your senses. I’ll have the carriage sent round to collect you tomorrow.’

‘Adieu, Miss Raithwaite, until tomorrow.’ Mr Praxton bowed.

Together the two gentlemen turned and left the room.

An irate Georgiana stared at the door that closed so firmly behind them. Her jaw clenched with determination and her fingers stole to worry at the lobe of her ear. If Papa thought the affair settled, he was to be grossly disappointed.

It was some time later that Georgiana heard the discreet knock at the door and found Nathaniel Hawke entering the bedroom for the second time that day. The Italian fell limply from her fingers, pages fanning open to lose the sentence she had been forcing herself to concentrate upon just moments before. She glanced up to find him walking purposefully towards her with a large tray in his hands. The elderly and rather rotund Mrs Tomelty hobbled in his wake. Setting the tray down upon the table positioned beside the bed, he gestured towards the cook. ‘Mrs Tomelty has made you some of her famous broth. If you would care to try a little, I can personally vouch for its healing properties.’

Georgiana’s gaze flicked from the strong tanned fingers that curled around the handles of the tray to the dark warmth of his eyes. Lord Nathaniel had brought her the broth, in person! Unwittingly a crinkle of suspicion crept across the bridge of her nose. She wetted her suddenly dry lips and looked at the cook.

‘That he can, miss,’ beamed Mrs Tomelty. ‘Could never get enough of my broth, could Lord Nathaniel. Always had to have a bowl full to the brim every time he fell out of a tree or come off his horse. Never known a little ‘un like him for getting himself into mischief. Why, I remember the time him and Lord Henry were swimming, bare as the day they were born, in the—’

‘Thank you, Mrs Tomelty,’ said Nathaniel rather forcefully.

A smile tugged at the corners of Georgiana’s mouth. Suddenly the tall, athletic gentleman standing only a few feet from where she lay in bed didn’t seem quite so intimidating.

Mrs Tomelty moved forward to pat Georgiana’s hand. ‘Now, duck, you eat that up, and it’ll do you the world of good. I’ll be just over there in that chair by the fireplace so that there won’t be no problems ‘bout Lord Nathaniel bein’ in a young lady’s bedroom.’ The elderly servant remained blissfully unaware of the ghost of a grimace that flitted across Nathaniel’s face. She hobbled the distance to the fireplace, eased herself into the rose brocade chair, and made herself comfortable.

‘Please forgive my intrusion, Miss Raithwaite. I know that I should not be here, but I wished to speak to you…alone…to reassure myself that you are well.’ There was a slight uneasiness about him, as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t know quite how to go about saying it.

Georgiana’s suspicion should have escalated, but it didn’t. Instead, it fizzled away to be replaced with an intrinsic trust. Has your experience with Mr Praxton taught you nothing of gentlemen? the little voice inside her head insisted. But something outside of logic and common sense assured her that the man standing before her now was nothing like Walter Praxton. Mr Praxton revolted her, but Lord Nathaniel…A shiver tingled up her spine and she deliberately turned her mind from that vein of thought. ‘I am very well, thank you, my lord,’ she managed with a politeness of which Mama would have been proud.

He was looking at her as if he knew the words that tripped from her tongue for the lie that they were.

The pause stretched.

Georgiana felt the first hint of a flush touch her cheeks. Lord, but he couldn’t possibly know the truth. She must stop acting like a ninny-hammer and pull herself together.

‘I wanted to ask you about your accident. Were you alone with Mr Praxton when it happened?’

The gentle hint of colour in Georgiana’s face ignited with all the subtlety of a beacon. Her heart set up a thudding reverberation in her chest. She swallowed once, and then again. ‘Yes.’ Her fingers moved to gather hold of Mrs Radcliffe’s book lying atop the bedcovers. She gripped the ornately gilded leather and took a deep breath. ‘Yes.’ This time more strongly. ‘Mr Praxton wished to show me an interesting botanical species that grows close to the river.’ Or so he said. ‘My parents and their friends were following in a walk of their own.’

One dark eyebrow raised in a minuscule motion.

Georgiana saw it and found herself swamped in a feeling of wretched shame and anger. She knew very well the path his mind was taking. ‘We were not alone for long.’ Long enough for Walter Praxton to make clear the exact nature of his intent! She knew she was only exposing her own guilt. Drat the man, why was he looking at her like that? She had a sudden urge to confess all, tell him exactly what Mr Praxton had done and why. But when all was said and done, Nathaniel Hawke was a stranger and a man…a very attractive man. And she couldn’t reveal such sordid details, especially not to him.

‘And what was it that you were doing to come to land in the river, Miss Raithwaite?’ He stepped closer to the bed and lowered his voice.

‘I…I was …’ She glanced up to meet the strength of his gaze.

‘Examining the botanical specimen?’ he suggested.

‘No.’

‘Then what?’

She could give him no answer that would not compromise herself and she did not think that she could bear to see the condemnation in his eyes that was sure to follow. So she said nothing, just shook her head.

‘And what was Mr Praxton doing to allow you to fall?’

I didn’t fall, I jumped! And Mr Praxton was doing precisely as you suspect! she wanted to shout, but couldn’t. ‘We had a disagreement, and…that is when I went into the river.’ Subconsciously her fingers slid to tug at her ear lobe.

Nathaniel took another step closer. He made as if to reach his hand out to her, then checked the action. ‘Miss Raithwaite,’ he said quietly, ‘I have the notion that you’re fearful of returning home. Who are you afraid of?’ He waited, before prompting, ‘If Mr Praxton has done aught that he should not have…’

The beautiful grey-blue eyes widened in shock and for the briefest moment he thought she was about to tell him something of the greatest significance. Then she faltered, and the moment was gone.

‘No.’ The temptation was great. She wanted to tell him. The words had crept to the tip of her tongue before she’d had the sense to restrain them.

‘Then, your father?’

The intensity of his gaze made her shiver. It was as if he could see past her defences to the truth. She willed herself to stay calm. ‘Why should I be afraid of my papa?’

‘Perhaps he does not approve of your friendship with Mr Praxton.’

If only that were the case! Had she imagined his subtle emphasis on the word ‘friendship’? She bristled at the implication. ‘I have no friendship with Mr Praxton. My papa is more approving of our betrothal than you could possibly realise.’

Hell’s teeth, but the girl was infuriating. He’d come here to assail the nagging doubt that there was more to Georgiana’s story than she was telling—something that wasn’t quite right. Fear, desperation, anger, indignation, he was sure he’d seen them all marked clearly on her face. Damn it, he hadn’t even known her this time yesterday. Now here he was, behaving like the village idiot, in the chit’s bedroom of all places, with the foolish chivalric notion that she needed his help. So Mirabelle had been right. Miss Raithwaite had been indulging in some compromising behaviour with the man and she was to marry him. The thought irked him more than it should have. ‘You are betrothed to Mr Praxton?’ He struggled to keep the scowl from his face.

‘Mr Praxton is very determined to marry me.’ She spoke so quietly that he struggled to hear her answer, strange as it was.

He thought he saw her lower lip tremble, but before he could be certain it was caught in a nip by her teeth. Praxton was clearly capable of eliciting strong emotion in her. Again that surge of disquiet made itself known.

Nathaniel looked at the girl with her flushed cheeks and glittering eyes for a moment longer. ‘Then, you have my felicitations, Miss Raithwaite. I will leave you to your rest.’ He bowed and strode from the room as if it was a matter of the smallest consideration. Georgiana Raithwaite’s future was none of his concern. But he could not rid himself of the unsettled feeling for the rest of the day.

Chapter Two

Nathaniel Hawke dropped a chaste kiss on to his brother’s wife’s cheek, only to find himself embraced in a bear hug. Mirabelle’s arms barely stretched around him and she stepped on the tips of her toes to reach up to him. ‘Dearest Nathaniel, promise me that you’ll take care on both your journey to Portsmouth and your voyage, wherever it may take you.’

His mouth opened to reply.

‘And make sure that you send Henry back from Collingborne. He’s been away for an age and I’m sure that your father will manage perfectly well with Freddie instead.’

Nathaniel’s eyes crinkled with amusement. ‘I’m quite sure that—’

‘Shall we see you again soon?’ Mirabelle disengaged her hold and launched herself in Freddie’s direction.

‘I’m afraid I haven’t received my sailing orders yet so I cannot answer your question.’

Freddie suffered a similar mauling at Mirabelle’s hands and grimaced when she pinched his cheek. ‘You grow more like Henry every day!’

He groaned. ‘Mirabelle!’

‘Well, fortunately for you it’s true. Now, off with you both. It’s time for my visit to the nursery and I can hear Charlie and Richard bawling from here. Such lungs!’

Having taken their farewells of Mirabelle, their nephews and a rather wan Miss Raithwaite, the brothers headed out at a steady pace south along the Gosport Road.

Freddie screwed up his face. ‘The prospect of an increasing similarity between Henry and myself is most depressing!’

Nathaniel laughed. ‘Why? Surely a marked resemblance to our distinguished sibling can be nothing but good? I mean, Henry has wisdom, good judgement and a deal of sense. What more could a fellow want?’

‘A sense of humour springs to mind, along with a number of other criteria. Henry’s a fine chap and all that, but he’s a trifle dull. All work and no play, et cetera, et cetera!’

‘Beneath that stuffy exterior is a good man.’

‘I know, I know. But can you imagine Henry jumping into the River Borne to rescue Miss Raithwaite? Poor girl would have drowned, and I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of carrying her back to Farleigh Hall.’ A wicked expression crossed Freddie’s face. ‘Delicious! Quite a figure beneath all those clothes!’

Nathaniel affected shock, but laughed just the same. ‘Frederick Hawke, that’s no way to speak of a lady.’

Freddie’s grin deepened, and his eyes twinkled. ‘But if Mirabelle is to be believed, our Miss Raithwaite is hardly a lady. Lucky Mr Praxton.’

‘Ah, Mr Praxton. I’d lay the blame for Miss Raithwaite’s misdemeanours firmly at his door. Taking advantage of the girl he is betrothed to.’ Nathaniel looked directly at his brother. ‘There’s something rather unsavoury about the man, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘He seemed perfectly fine to me. Rather a fashionable good-looking chap. I wouldn’t have thought he’d have too much trouble with the ladies, if you know what I mean.’ Freddie winked.

‘Perhaps you’re right. But my instinct sets me against him, however unfair that may seem. Still, what’s it to us? We shall likely never set eyes on Mr Praxton or Miss Raithwaite again.’ He twitched the reins beneath his fingers. ‘I wonder if she knows what she’s getting herself into, tangling with such a man?’

Freddie snorted. ‘You’re growing suspicious in your old age. I think it must be time that we stopped for some refreshments to soothe your poor addled brain. The George Inn isn’t far ahead. I’ll race you to it!’

It seemed to Mirabelle Farleigh that Georgiana’s health had suffered not so much from her plunge into the River Borne, but from the visit of her father and the man to whom she was betrothed. Subsequent to their leaving the girl appeared pale and listless. Scarcely a morsel of food had passed her lips since and she declined to be drawn by the brightest of conversation that her ladyship had to offer. Not that any sign of fever or pain could be seen to account for her behaviour. But something was wrong, very wrong. Georgiana wore the air of a woman condemned, not of one about to marry her lover. Lady Farleigh, who had an innate interest in such things, had every intention of getting to the bottom of the mysterious affair.