Courting The Forbidden Debutante

‘I wanted to dance with you, Lady Georgina, and I find not much is achieved in this world if you are content to stand back and wait your turn.’ Normally she would shy away from a man with quite so much self-assurance, but it suited the man in front of her and she found herself pulled in by his easy manner and strong arms in equal measure.

He was a good dancer, certainly not a natural, but managed to twirl her round with a practised ease. She wondered how a proficiency at dancing a waltz fitted in to any of the rumours about his origins, but then as he gripped her a little tighter all thoughts of corsairs and French spies left her mind.

‘You’re a good dancer,’ he said as he executed a turn, taking the opportunity to pull her in another inch closer.

‘I’m an adequate dancer,’ she corrected. It was true, she could remember the steps, seldom stomped on her partner’s toes and was able to keep a conversation going throughout the less energetic dances, but she would never be one of those debutantes. The ones who sailed across the dance floor with barely any effort and looked as though they were skating across ice, their movements so smooth.

‘You’re a difficult woman to compliment,’ he murmured, silencing her protest with a stern look. ‘Not because it is difficult to find things to compliment you on, but you do argue back rather a lot.’

‘Not normally,’ Georgina said under her breath. Normally she accepted compliments with a small smile and a demure downcasting of her eyes. Her many suitors often extolled the beauty of her hair, her eyes, the curve of her mouth, and Georgina found it all rather ridiculous, but normally it was easier just to accept the compliment rather than get into a discussion about why her eyes weren’t like two shimmering emeralds.

‘You owe me,’ Georgina said, hastily changing the subject.

‘I owe you?’

‘Now I will have to find a way to make it up to Mr Wilcox for missing his dance.’

‘Lucky Mr Wilcox.’

Georgina ignored the provocative remark and pushed on. ‘So as my reward I want to know the truth about you.’

‘Whether I’m a French spy or an evil criminal?’

‘Exactly. Who are you, Mr Robertson?’

He leant in closer, far too close for propriety, but Georgina couldn’t bring herself to pull away. All eyes would be on them, and she knew by midday tomorrow her mother would be aware that Georgina had danced a little too closely with an unsuitable gentleman, but still she let his breath tickle her ear.

‘If I tell you, that would ruin the intrigue,’ he whispered, ‘and then you’d have no reason to want to see me again.’

Georgina felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine. Mr Robertson was hardly a suitable suitor, her parents might not even allow him to come to call on her, but he was refreshingly different. And different was alluring when you’d been courted by most of the eligible bachelors in London and still found them hard to distinguish from one another.

The music stopped and Mr Robertson held on to her for just a moment longer than was proper, then leaving her feeling bereft, pulled away and bowed formally.

‘I think someone is trying to get your attention,’ he said, indicating into the crowd of guests.

‘Lady Yaxley, my chaperon for the evening.’

‘No doubt to scold you on your choice of company.’

‘It has been a pleasure, Mr Robertson, but now I must take my leave.’

‘Until next time, Lady Georgina. I hope it will not be too long an interval.’

Chapter Two

‘Georgina, you must be more careful in the company you keep,’ Lady Yaxley scolded her as they took a slow walk around the ballroom. ‘And running off and abandoning those nice gentlemen like that. Your poor mother would have a seizure if she knew.’

Georgina had to stifle a smile as Caroline peered over her mother’s head and rolled her eyes. When Lady Yaxley got started on the subject of propriety and good manners it was best to let her scold until she ran out of steam.

‘The rumours about that man, Mr Robertson, you would not believe. It is entirely inappropriate for you to ever speak to him again. Perhaps if you keep your distance now the damage will be minimised.’

‘Mama...’ Caroline groaned.

‘You’re no better, young lady. Don’t think I didn’t noticed you crossing nice Mr Fielding off your dance card. That is unacceptable.’

‘His breath is worse than a pile of manure,’ Caroline informed Georgina over her mother’s head.

‘This is no laughing matter. Three seasons you girls have been out and neither one of you married off.’

‘Not from lack of proposals on Georgina’s part,’ Caroline teased.

‘Yes, your father has been rather indulgent,’ Lady Yaxley said disapprovingly.

Georgina had known the Yaxleys for her entire life. Born just days apart, she and Caroline had been destined to be friends. Their families lived on bordering estates and there were no other titled families for forty miles in each direction. It had been luck that meant they were perfectly suited to one another and from the age of five had been inseparable. Lady Yaxley was more like family than merely her friend’s mother, but that did mean Georgina was scolded by the older woman as if she were another errant daughter.

‘Mother, isn’t that Lord Westcott trying to get your attention?’ Caroline said, nodding to the other side of the ballroom.

Watching in amazement, Georgina smiled as her friend caught the Baron’s eye and raised a hand in greeting, directing her mother’s gaze just as the Baron returned the gesture, making it seem as though he was the one who initiated the contact.

‘I need a trip to the retiring room,’ Georgina said quickly, to save them from having to talk to Lord Westcott. ‘Caroline, will you help me straighten out my dress?’

Lady Yaxley gave them a suspicious glance, but nodded for the young women to take their leave.

‘Now tell me,’ Caroline said, linking her arm through Georgina’s. ‘Tell me everything about Mr Robertson.’

They made their way through the ballroom and out of the double doors at the end, keeping up the pretence of heading for the retiring room, knowing Lady Yaxley’s eyes would be on them until they were out of sight.

‘There’s nothing much to tell,’ Georgina said with a shrug, realising it was the truth. Although she’d spent at least twenty minutes in the man’s company she didn’t really know any more about him than anyone else in the ballroom. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I’m not being coy.’

‘You went outside with him,’ Caroline declared. ‘You never go outside with anyone.’

Paranoid about being caught in a compromising situation with a man she didn’t want to marry, Georgina had a rule about not being alone with a gentleman, ever.

‘We weren’t alone,’ she mumbled. ‘There were plenty of other couples taking the air.’

‘I’ve known you far too long, Georgina Fairfax. Don’t play coy.’

‘He was very forward,’ Georgina said, trying her best to sound disapproving rather than impressed. She didn’t want to be a stereotypical empty-headed young woman who was swept away by the first man to break with convention.

‘Did he try to kiss you?’

‘No.’ He hadn’t tried to kiss her, and Georgina realised she felt a little disappointed. He had looped an arm around her to pull her into the waltz and then at the end of the dance held on to her for just a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary, but Georgina wasn’t sure whether that had been deliberate or just a sign that he hadn’t spent much of the last few years honing his ball etiquette.

‘He hasn’t danced with anyone else. Just stood there with his friend, surveying the room in that brooding fashion.’

‘You sound smitten,’ Georgina said suspiciously.

Her friend sighed. ‘I’m fed up, Georgie, fed up of the balls and the dinner parties and the operas. Fed up of boring young men pretending to want to get to know me when in reality all they want is an introduction to you.’ She waved off Georgina’s protests. ‘If a dashing French spy or an Australian convict asked me to run away with him, then I probably would. Don’t you want adventure? A little excitement?’

Caroline had made her debut at the same time as Georgina, and people had started to whisper that three years was a long time to go without even a single marriage proposal. Georgina knew her friend was more than worthy of the bachelors of the ton and, with a substantial dowry and her family connections, there really should have been at least one proposal. Some times Georgina wondered if Caroline deliberately discouraged any proposals to allow her to remain free and unmarried a little longer, but mostly dismissed the idea. They’d been raised to be wives and mothers—even Caroline wasn’t so rebellious to actually want to be an old maid.

Still, Georgina could see the appeal of being left alone to live the life you wanted, with no husband to dictate what you could and couldn’t do. Far too often she found herself daydreaming about a life where she got to make her own decisions, from the small things about where to reside to the bigger things such as leaving everything behind to travel the world. It was a dream that was so far-fetched Georgina knew it could never happen, but in quieter moments she still found herself thinking of a life where she was her own mistress.

‘Indulge me,’ Caroline said as they exited the ballroom and started to make their way through the hall towards the retiring room. ‘Tell me every last detail about him.’

‘About whom?’ A deep voice sounded behind them, making both young women jump.

Even before she turned Georgina knew who it would be. His voice was unmistakable, clear and sharp, but without the refined tones of the hundred other men at the ball who’d attended one of the three most prestigious schools in England.

‘Mr Robertson,’ Georgina said, turning slowly, ‘may I introduce my dear friend Miss Yaxley.’

‘A pleasure to meet you, Miss Yaxley.’

‘We were just talking about you, Mr Robertson,’ Caroline said, and inside Georgina groaned. She loved her friend more than anyone else in the world, but some times she wished Caroline wouldn’t blurt out everything that was in her head. ‘Although Georgina is being a little reserved.’

‘Unlike you,’ Georgina muttered under her breath, giving Caroline a dig in the ribs.

Mr Robertson gave her an amused look. ‘May I escort you somewhere, ladies?’ he asked. ‘And perhaps on the way I can answer some of your questions.’

‘I am just popping to the retiring room,’ Caroline said quietly. ‘But, Georgina, why don’t you go with Mr Robertson and I will come join you in a moment.’

With her mouth parting in disbelief, Georgina shot a warning look at her friend.

‘I’ll only be a minute or two,’ Caroline said cheerfully, walking away.

Left alone with Mr Robertson, Georgina turned on him suspiciously.

‘Were you following me?’ she asked.

‘Do many men follow you?’

‘Not so brazenly,’ she muttered, feeling completely set up by Caroline and needing to take her annoyance out on someone.

‘I find it pointless to be subtle,’ Mr Robertson said, with that confident smile lighting up his face and causing Georgina to lose track of her thoughts for a moment.

‘Evidently.’

‘You lied to me,’ he said, leaning in a little closer. Georgina felt her pulse begin to quicken as his arm brushed innocently against hers.

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘You said a woman should never be alone with a man...’ he paused ‘...yet here we are.’

Quickly Georgina looked around the hallway. Damn him, he was right. They were alone, not out of any machinations on her part, but alone all the same. If some particularly nosy matron caught them here in the hall together, then rumours would start to fly. No matter that a few minutes ago there had been more than half-a-dozen people escaping from the heat of the ballroom, milling around the spacious hallway, now it was just she and the mysterious Mr Robertson.

‘You should leave,’ she said, keeping one eye fixed on the door from the ballroom. ‘Before anyone catches us together.’

‘Tell me,’ he said, not making a single move to depart. ‘What would happen if we were found alone out here?’

‘My reputation would be ruined and my father would marry me off quickly and quietly to any man that would have me.’

‘We can’t be having that,’ Mr Robertson said, taking her gently but firmly by the arm and pulling her around the corner just as two elderly women exited the ballroom, discussing the musicians as they headed in the same direction Caroline had disappeared in.

Georgina found she was holding her breath, hoping they wouldn’t pause and glance in the opposite direction and see her pressed into a corner with an entirely inappropriate gentleman. Only when they were safely out of sight did she realise quite how close she was standing to her companion.

‘Safe?’ he asked, moving to one side so he could check over her shoulder. He was close, his body barely a few inches from hers, and she could feel the heat of him emanating through the layers of his clothing. It wasn’t a contrived closeness, though—in fact, he barely seemed to register her and certainly wasn’t moving in to try to touch her or kiss her.

An unfamiliar disappointment started to uncurl inside Georgina. Most men would have used this situation to their advantage and, while normally that irritated her beyond belief, she realised with surprise that she wouldn’t have minded Mr Robertson moving in for a kiss. Of course she would have rebuffed him, but the attempt would have been nice.

‘We need to leave,’ Georgina said, pulling herself together. ‘Separately.’

He looked at her then, a gaze that seemed to take in every inch of her body, and she fancied she saw something change in how he was standing.

‘As you command, my lady,’ he said, executing a mock bow. ‘But only if you grant me one favour.’

With her heart pounding in her chest Georgina nodded, wondering when she had reverted back to a giddy eighteen-year-old.

‘Allow me to call on you tomorrow.’

She’d expected him to ask for a kiss and had been prepared to offer him her hand. Momentarily thrown, she found herself nodding before she’d thought through the request.

‘Then I will take my leave a happy man,’ he said, catching her hand in his own and planting a kiss just below her knuckles.

With a quick glance to ensure they were still alone Mr Robertson walked away, returning to the ballroom without looking back. Georgina still hadn’t moved when Caroline exited the retiring room two minutes later and quickly had to find her composure before her friend guessed something had happened.

Chapter Three

‘Mercenary,’ Ben Crawford commented as he took a long slurp of tea from the delicate china teacup. In his hands the drinking vessel looked foreign and out of place, but Crawford didn’t seem to notice.

‘What’s mercenary?’ Sam asked, rising from his seat to help himself to another portion of smoked haddock from the serving plate on the sideboard. His normal breakfast consisted of porridge and some bread—it seemed a strange luxury to be eating fish for breakfast.

‘You are.’

Raising an eyebrow, he waited for his friend to continue, tucking into his breakfast while the silence dragged out.

‘I know you want to get your revenge on the old Earl, but compromising his daughter—that’s dark, even for you.’

‘I’m not...’ Sam began to splutter, then paused, swallowed his mouthful, took another sip of tea and continued to talk. ‘I’m not planning on compromising the daughter.’

‘You went halfway there last night. All I heard the entire evening was how scandalous Lady Georgina was acting over a ne’er-do-well stranger.’

‘I only danced with the girl.’

‘And led her off into dark corners.’

‘Hardly.’

‘They have different rules here,’ Crawford mused, his voice dipping. ‘No dragging your intended off over one shoulder and holding a pistol to their head until they capitulate into marrying you.’

‘Because that happened all the time in Australia.’ Sam paused, leaning back in his chair, rocking on the back two legs in a motion that he knew irritated his friend. ‘I’m not going to compromise Lady Georgina,’ he said firmly. ‘I merely need an acquaintance with her to gain me entry into her house and a little familiarity with the family.’

‘So you’re not going to punish the father by ruining the daughter?’

‘No.’

The thought had briefly crossed his mind, if he was being completely honest, but Sam, despite his past conviction, thought himself as an honourable man. It was one thing to seek vengeance against the man who had ruined his life, quite another to drag an innocent into it all merely because she was his daughter.

He hadn’t expected to like her. She was the daughter of the man who’d nearly destroyed him and he’d been fully prepared to have to pretend to enjoy her company to get close to her. But in reality he’d found her interesting and, in truth, perhaps a little too alluring. It was the way she’d looked at him with those intense green eyes, the heat he’d felt deep inside when his arm had looped around her waist, the overwhelming urge to kiss her he’d had to fight as they’d waited in the hall together. All in all he knew he shouldn’t like her, but he did, and it made him resolve not to involve her more than was absolutely necessary in his plans for revenge.

‘Did you get what you wanted?’ Ben asked, reaching out and tugging on his friend’s chair until all four feet were on the floor again.

‘Lady Georgina agreed to me calling on her today,’ Sam said, feeling inordinately pleased with himself.

When he, Ben Crawford and George Fitzgerald had decided to return to England, Sam’s main motivation had been revenge. He wanted to look Lord Westchester in the eye and confront the man about how he’d treated him eighteen years previously. Lord Westchester had been solely responsible for Sam’s false conviction for theft and his transportation to Australia. Now he would always be an ex-convict; that never left you. Nor did the years of back-breaking labour, the months spent in the filthiest conditions on the hulk ship or the grief of a ten-year-old boy being ripped from his home, his family and everything he held dear. The day he’d been sentenced had been the last day he’d ever seen his family. Meanwhile the Earl had been living his life of luxury and probably hadn’t given a second thought to the young boy he’d handed over to the magistrate all those years ago.

‘And you’re hoping the Earl is at home?’ Ben asked.

Nodding, Sam swung back on his chair again, balancing perfectly until he heard footfalls behind him.

‘You boys are up early,’ Lady Winston said as she entered the dining room.

They’d returned from the ball in the small hours of the morning, but the years of getting up before the dawn to work on the vast Australian farms meant neither Sam nor Crawford were in the habit of sleeping past seven o’clock and even that was a rare luxury.

‘Good morning, Lady Winston,’ Sam said, standing as the older woman waved a hand for both men to desist with the formalities.

‘Aunt Tabitha,’ she insisted, not for the first time.

‘Good morning Aunt Tabitha,’ Crawford said, placing a kiss on her cheek before returning to his seat.

‘George warned me about your charm,’ Aunt Tabitha scolded and Sam had to suppress a smile. Crawford was irresistible to the ladies, whatever their age. He had that easy-going confidence that meant they just seemed to fall into his arms.

‘Now, have you boys been well looked after this morning?’

Nodding in unison, Sam wondered why he felt like a young lad again rather than a successful landowner of nearly thirty. Aunt Tabitha was no relation to him or Ben, but she treated them in the same way she did George, her nephew. The three men were like brothers, despite their different starts in life, but not many people saw fit to treat them that way. George Fitzgerald was a wealthy landowner, but his father had started life as the second son of an impoverished baron. To many people that title was important and they couldn’t understand why a man of good family, like Fitzgerald, would associate with two ex-convicts, however rich and successful they might be now.

Aunt Tabitha, however, accepted their adopted fraternity and treated all three men equally, albeit like errant youths.

‘Did I hear you’re going to call on the lovely Lady Georgina today?’ Lady Winston asked.

‘Yes, I thought I’d pop around after breakfast.’

‘My dear boy, one does not just pop around and especially not after breakfast.’

Sam grimaced. Of course there would be some long-winded social convention for paying a call on a young lady. There was for everything else after all.

‘Enlighten me, Aunt Tabitha.’

‘First, the proper hour to pay a call is some time after eleven, but definitely before three.’

Sam glanced at the clock at one end of the room. It was a little after eight in the morning. Waiting so long seemed a waste, but he supposed not the biggest inconvenience.

‘Then when you arrive at the house you must present a calling card to the butler, who will enquire as to whether the young lady is at home.’

‘Of course she’ll be home. She said she would,’ Sam growled, finding the whole thing a little ridiculous. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Crawford suppressing a laugh and shot him a warning glare.

‘Oh, she’ll probably be at home, but she might not want to receive you. If that’s the case, the butler will inform you that Lady Georgina is not at home to visitors.’

‘She’ll snub me?’

‘She might have had chance to consider the merits of your acquaintance,’ Aunt Tabitha said, patting him on the hand. ‘If she does accept your call, you will be shown into the drawing room, or another such receiving room where Lady Georgina will be accompanied by her mother. Twenty minutes of idle chit-chat later and you will be expected to depart.’

‘Sounds like a thrilling afternoon,’ Crawford said, slapping him on the back.

‘And her father?’ Sam asked.

‘Ah, yes, the Earl. You probably won’t see him, although if you are an honoured guest he might make a brief appearance.’

He was going to go through all of the palaver of trying to secure an audience with Lady Georgina and might not even catch a glimpse of the Earl for his efforts. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself. Today was only the beginning of their second week in London, he had to remind himself, and already he’d made the acquaintance of Lord Westchester’s daughter. He had time to nurture the relationship, time to orchestrate a meeting with the Earl, time to initiate the first step in his plans for revenge. If he was going to get close to the Earl the first thing Sam needed to do was check the older man did not remember him. Sam knew he’d transformed from gangly child into a well-built man since the Earl last laid eyes on him, but some people surprised you with their memories. Once he was sure the Earl did not know his true identity he could start on the next step of his plan.

‘Why exactly are you so interested in Lord Westchester?’ Lady Winston asked, her face shrewd and her eyes narrowed.

‘It’s probably best you don’t know,’ Sam said, trying to make light of the situation with a grin.

‘You’re probably right,’ Lady Winston said with a sigh. ‘If you’re up to no good, the fewer people know about it the better.’

He was up to no good, but with good reason. Eighteen years ago Sam’s mother had been an assistant cook in the Earl’s household and on occasion took Sam to work with her to help with the odd jobs around the place. He had been accused of stealing Lady Westchester’s emeralds, and although there was no real evidence against him the Earl had used his influence to ensure Sam was convicted and sentenced to be transported to Australia. Soon after he’d started his sentence in one of the filthy hulk ships his mother and sisters had been struck down with a winter fever, meaning Sam not only lost his childhood and life in England, but also the chance to ever see his family again.