Читать книгу Courting The Forbidden Debutante - Laura Martin - Страница 10

‘It’s scandalous who they invite to these balls.’

‘I heard they were ex-convicts, recently returned from Australia.’

‘Surely not. Lord Gilham would have higher standards than that.’

‘A dear friend of mine told me they were fishermen, grown rich off the proceeds of smuggling,’ the first lady said in an exaggerated whisper, eliciting thrilled gasps from her companions.

Sam suppressed a smile. They’d been at the ball for less than five minutes and already the gossip was rife. He was surprised at how accurate this gaggle of middle-aged women were about their country of origin, at least. Despite spending much of his young life close to the sea, he’d never tried his hand at fishing before, or smuggling.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ George Fitzgerald asked as he clapped Sam on the back.

Surveying the room, Sam grimaced. This was not his world, not what he’d been born into. The cravat at his neck felt uncomfortably tight and the well-tailored jacket suddenly was too snug across the shoulders. Give him an open-necked shirt any day over the ridiculous garments the rich and powerful seemed to favour.

‘It’s certainly...different,’ Sam said.

‘Tell me about it.’

The two men stood side by side. So far no one had found the courage to come up and speak to them, despite the curious stares they were getting, but it would only be a matter of time.

‘These are your people, George. Shouldn’t you be off cavorting with the Lords and Ladies?’

Fitzgerald grimaced. He might have tenuous links to the aristocracy—his father was the second son of an impoverished baron—but George had spent his entire life in the wilds of Australia, raised on a farm. A very successful farm that made him one of the richest men in Australia but more at home around horses and hard work than the glamour of ballrooms and soirées.

‘Any sign of him yet?’ Fitzgerald asked.

Sam shook his head. The whole reason they’d secured the invitation to the Gilham ball was for Sam to start his search for the man who had ruined his life. Lord Westchester. Earl, influential member of the House of Lords and, in Sam’s eyes at least, the devil incarnate.

‘Boys,’ a high-pitched voice pierced the air, putting the two men at the centre of everyone’s attention again. ‘I’ve been looking for you for an age.’

‘Aunt Tabitha.’ Fitzgerald bent forward and kissed his aunt on the cheek, Sam doing the same on her other side.

‘Aren’t there supposed to be three of you?’ she asked. ‘Although maybe it is better to unleash you into society one at a time. The wicked widows won’t know which of you to seduce first.’

‘Crawford is off dancing with some doe-eyed debutante,’ Sam said, his eyes searching the room for their friend. Crawford had picked up the steps to the most popular dances quickly and easily and never seemed short of a partner on the dance floor. Sam was a little less of a natural, but he was agile and quick on his feet. As a result he could dance a waltz or a quadrille and fool a casual observer into thinking he’d been dancing all his life.

‘A man who doesn’t waste any time.’ Aunt Tabitha grinned, a far more salacious smile than should appear on the face of a respectable member of the ton. ‘Now, a little bird told me you are looking for a way to get close to Lord Westchester.’

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by Aunt Tabitha’s raised hand. He shot Fitzgerald a distrusting look.

‘Now, none of that,’ the older woman said. ‘I’m sure I don’t need to know why you need to gain an audience with the Earl, but that pretty young thing over there, the one in the blue dress, she is your ticket in.’

‘A relation of the Earl?’ Sam asked, his senses suddenly heightened.

‘His daughter. I’m sure a catch like that will have a full dance card already. But George tells me you’re a resourceful man. I’d wager my pearls you can find a way to steal her away from one of these bores for a dance or two.’

‘Lady Winston, you’re a gem,’ Sam said, stooping down and kissing her on the cheek.

Straightening up, he took a moment to square his shoulders, stiffen his spine and focus in on his prey. He rather thought this was how a general would feel when sighting his enemy on the battlefield.

He strode across the ballroom, ignoring the curious stares that followed him. Everyone wanted to know the truth behind the three mysterious gentlemen who had appeared in society as if by magic, but he would not be stopped by even the most persistent of enquirers.

The Earl’s daughter stood in the middle of an eager gaggle of men of varying ages, all of whom seemed desperate to see to her every need, even those she didn’t know she had. Sam paused for a moment, listening to the men clamour for her attention, and the young woman’s polite but uninterested replies.

‘Perhaps another glass of lemonade, Lady Georgina?’ a boy who couldn’t have been more than twenty suggested.

‘I’m perfectly fine, thank you, Mr Forrester.’

‘Would you care for some fresh air, Lady Georgina?’ another young man suggested.

‘I think our dance will be starting soon,’ a slightly older man said, eyeing the younger bucks with distaste.

The popular Lady Georgina smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and Sam knew instantly that she wouldn’t object to being taken away from her many admirers.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, his voice deep and low, clearing a space through the crowd that surrounded her. ‘Your mother asked me to find you. She has an urgent matter to discuss.’

Lady Georgina’s eyes snapped up and she regarded him with a half-smile on her face for a few seconds. She knew he was lying, knew it was a ruse to get her to himself for a little while, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to call his bluff. As her eyes met his Sam felt a frisson of excitement and a sudden burst of attraction. She was pretty, with thick, dark hair and deep green eyes set in a heart-shaped face with smooth, creamy skin, but it wasn’t until she looked at him that Sam understood the gaggle of suitors surrounding her. There was life in her eyes and Sam felt the pull, the unconscious urge to rush in and join her in whatever adventure she suggested.

‘Oh, I do hope it’s nothing serious,’ she said, raising a dainty hand to her mouth and trying to effect a worried expression.

‘Don’t overdo it,’ Sam murmured in her ear. He’d managed to manoeuvre most of the admirers out of the way and place himself firmly by her side. ‘Just a family matter,’ Sam said brightly. ‘I’m sure you’ll be back to...everyone very shortly.’

She placed the dainty hand in the crook of his arm and together they took a step forward. Through the thin material of her dress Sam could feel the heat of her skin and for an instant he wondered what it might feel like under his lips. Quickly he dismissed the thought. He’d only just met the woman and, more importantly, she was a means to get closer to his objective, not a suitable companion for a dalliance.

‘I say, shouldn’t I accompany you, Lady Georgina?’ a man of about Sam’s age said, his brow furrowed with suspicion. ‘Rather than this...stranger.’

‘What makes you think I’m a stranger?’ Sam asked, enjoying himself for the first time this evening.

‘Surely you don’t want to be going off with him,’ another man prompted. ‘You must have heard the rumours?’

‘Gentlemen, my mother has asked for me and Mr...’

‘Robertson,’ Sam supplied helpfully.

‘Mr Robertson has been kind enough to deliver her message and escort me to her. I’m sure I will be back shortly.’

Without a backwards glance Sam led Lady Georgina through the crowds, noting the curious looks from the assembled guests.

‘What’s your plan now, Mr Robertson?’ Georgina murmured in his ear.

‘Perhaps we could find somewhere a little more private,’ he suggested. Images of a deserted room, darkened except for the light of a few candles and Lady Georgina seductively draped across the arm of a chair popped into his mind. That wasn’t what he’d meant, but it was appealing all the same.

‘With the entire ballroom watching us? I have my reputation to think about.’ Sam wasn’t sure if he imagined the moment of hesitation, the slight blush to her cheeks as if she’d been imagining the same as him.

‘They do seem unnaturally interested in our every movement,’ Sam said, feeling at least twenty pairs of eyes on him at that very moment.

‘I think people are worried the big bad stranger might take advantage of innocent little me.’

‘Unlikely,’ he said, realising that he meant it. Lady Georgina might be the pampered daughter of an earl, used to having her every need seen to by a bevy of servants, but she was no shy and retiring innocent. She’d known he was lying about the message from her mother from the very instant the words had left his mouth, yet here she was on his arm, enjoying the break from the mundane for a few moments, those exotic eyes looking up at him with anticipation.

‘Perhaps the terrace?’ Lady Georgina suggested. ‘There will be plenty of couples taking the air, but it may be a little quieter.’

Sam led her on another loop of the ballroom and out on to the terrace. She was right, of course, there were couples dotted along the stone balustrade and strolling backwards and forward taking the air, but there were fewer eyes on them here. He realised suddenly how out of his depth he was in this world. It had never even crossed his mind that there would be a terrace for couples of withdraw to. The whole scene, the whole evening, was completely foreign to him. He felt more at home on horseback, galloping through the Australian countryside on a mission to find out why a remote well had dried up or scouting for valuable land for crops.

‘You’re quite the talk of the ballroom,’ Lady Georgina said as they paused at one end of the terrace.

‘All good things, I’m sure,’ Sam murmured.

She laughed and immediately Sam knew it wasn’t the laugh she reserved for her suitors. This was Lady Georgina’s true laugh. It lit up her face from her eyes to that perfectly pointed chin.

‘If all the rumours are to be believed, you’re a pirate, one of those ruthless corsairs based off the coast of Africa. You’re an ex-convict from the wilds of Australia. And you’re a French spy, eager to find a way to restart the war that ended six years ago.’

‘I am a busy man,’ Sam said, feeling the easy smile spread over his lips. ‘I wonder I have enough time for so many pursuits.’

‘And you managed to fit in a visit to this humble little ball.’

‘No doubt to further one of my nefarious goals.’

She laughed again, attracting curious glances from another couple who were strolling past slowly. Quickly she composed her face into a more serious expression, but Sam had caught a glimpse of the woman underneath.

‘What are you doing here?’ Lady Georgina asked.

* * *

For a moment she thought he might answer her, but instead he flashed her that dazzling smile that was a little too distracting for anyone’s good and winked.

‘Running errands for your mother,’ he said.

‘Now I know that is nonsense. My mother is tucked up in bed with an awful headache, with no plans to surface until at least midday tomorrow.’

‘Ah, I see my little lie has been uncovered,’ Mr Robertson said, treating her to that lazy smile again that Georgina knew had melted many hearts over the years. He was handsome with dazzling blue eyes set in an open face with the widest grin she had ever seen. He exuded charm and had that easy confidence of someone who is sure of who they are and what they want. It was difficult not to like the man on first impressions, but as Georgina’s insides did a little flip she knew spending too much time with him would be dangerous—he was the sort of man young women lost their heads over.

‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ she said, resolutely trying to avoid his eyes in case she found herself unable to look away.

‘Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to make your acquaintance?’

It would be easy to take the compliment, far too easy, and even easier to let his charm and beguiling smile lull her into doing something she might regret. She’d never understood before how young ladies allowed themselves to be ruined, how they forgot everything they had been told time and time again about stepping into dark corners with men who could not be trusted, but right now she felt the fizz of anticipation deep inside her and knew it would be all too tempting to do something she might regret. Quickly she rallied and set her face into a serious expression.

‘Then you should have had someone introduce you,’ she said primly.

‘But you forget, I’m a pirate, a French spy and an ex-convict, I have barely any connections in English society and no one to introduce me to a beautiful young woman at a ball.’

‘Yet here you are,’ Georgina murmured.

It was curious, how he and his two friends had just waltzed into society, rumours bouncing off them left and right, without anyone really knowing who they were. One of the more believable pieces of gossip was that one of the young men was related to Lady Winston, which would explain their easy entrance to the ball, but other than that Georgina didn’t know what to believe.

‘Tell me,’ Mr Robertson said, leaning casually against the stone balustrade, ‘Do you like all the attention from your little crowd of admirers?’

Georgina sighed. She’d been out in society for three years after making a rather late debut at the age of eighteen and ever since she’d been followed around by a persistent group of men. Every ball, every evening at the opera, she would find herself with too many glasses of lemonade, too many offers of an escort, too many eager faces ready to do her bidding at the snap of her fingers. At first she’d enjoyed the attention—what young woman wouldn’t?—but after a few weeks she’d realised why they were quite so attentive.

‘Sometimes I think I might marry the next man who asks just to be rid of them,’ she said, surprising herself with her honesty.

Throwing his head back, Mr Robertson laughed, drawing curious looks from the other couples on the terrace.

‘It sounds terribly conceited, I know,’ Georgina said quickly.

‘You think they’re after you for your family connections?’

‘And my dowry.’

Georgina knew she was pretty enough and her mother had ensured she was tutored in all the things women were supposed to be accomplished in; she could play the piano and sing like a lark, she could organise a household with military precision and she could paint a vase full of flowers with any type of paint, but all of these things were just little bonuses. The real prize was being married to the daughter of an earl, an earl who was one of the most influential men in England.

‘You’ve turned down marriage proposals?’ Mr Robertson asked.

Nodding, Georgina felt the heat rise in her cheeks when she thought of quite how many men she’d turned down. Her father hadn’t minded, not at first, but she knew soon his patience would wear out. The next well-connected, titled gentleman who asked for her hand in marriage would be pushed upon her whether she liked him or not.

‘I should be getting back,’ she said, taking a step towards the glass doors.

A hand on her arm stopped her instantly. It was warm and firm and made Georgina want to throw caution to the wind.

‘Surely a couple more minutes couldn’t hurt,’ Mr Robertson suggested. ‘Or will your father be looking for you?’

‘My father?’ Georgina asked, frowning.

‘You said your mother was home in bed...’

‘My father never attends these sorts of events. I came with a friend and her mother.’

There was a flash of something in Mr Robertson’s eyes. For an instant it looked like disappointment, but whatever it was the look was gone quickly and replaced by the relaxed amusement Georgina was already beginning to associate with her companion.

‘Then there really is no reason we shouldn’t tarry a little longer.’

‘You forget my reputation, Mr Robertson. If I am not back in the ballroom within the next couple of minutes, all fashion of rumours will begin to spread.’

‘I find rumours are best ignored.’

‘But some of us are unable to ignore them. A young woman is only worth as much as her reputation. It has been lovely talking to you, Mr Robertson, but I must return to the ball.’

With a small bow he offered her his arm and led her back towards the glass doors. As they stepped inside Georgina felt the collective stare of the guests upon her. It had been foolish allowing Mr Robertson to lead her outside in the first place, foolish to want a break from the monotony of a ball she felt as though she’d attended a thousand times. Now there would be whispers, nothing too malicious, she was the daughter of an earl after all, but whispers all the same.

‘They’re striking up for a waltz,’ Mr Robertson said, his lips surprisingly close to her ear.

‘I think I’m meant to be dancing with Mr Wilcox,’ Georgina said, glancing around the room to see if she could spot her next companion.

‘Dance with me.’

She laughed, thinking he was joking, but the expression on his face told her he wasn’t. It was tempting, oh, so tempting. Just the thought of being held close by his strong arms, being smiled down upon with those lips that never seemed to stop smiling, but Georgina knew she had to have more willpower than that.

‘I cannot disappoint Mr Wilcox,’ she said, pulling away.

‘Even though you want to?’

Before she could stop him, Mr Robertson had pulled her into his arms and manoeuvred them into a free spot on the dance floor among the other couples getting ready to dance the waltz. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Mr Wilcox striding towards them, stopping as he saw Georgina in the arms of another man, taking her first steps as the music began.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Georgina hissed.

‘Dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room.’

‘I told you I was engaged for this dance. With someone else.’

Mr Robertson shrugged, managing to complete the movement and continue to hold her in the correct position without missing a step.

‘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.’