Читать книгу Courting The Forbidden Debutante - Laura Martin, Laura Martin - Страница 13

‘Drowning your sorrows?’ George Fitzgerald asked as he clapped Sam on the back, flopping down into the free seat beside him. ‘Did the beauteous Lady Georgina turn you away?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Difficult types, these daughters of the nobility.’

‘She didn’t turn me away.’

‘Why the long face then?’

‘The Earl is in Hampshire and there’s not much chance of him making an appearance any time soon.’

‘Ah. I see.’ Fitzgerald drummed his fingers on the table before motioning to one of the serving girls for two more jugs of ale. ‘I take it you’re not giving up.’

‘No.’ Giving up was the furthest thing from his mind. ‘I’ll have to go to Hampshire, that’s all.’

He’d hoped to avoid returning to his home county. There were painful memories back in his childhood home that he didn’t wish to confront. The last time he’d been there, his mother and two younger sisters had been alive. Now he had no close relatives left in Hampshire, but the memories of his childhood and all he’d lost were based there and he had planned on leaving those ghosts to sleep.

‘You’ll struggle to even catch a glimpse of the Earl if you just turn up. You need an invitation.’

‘To go to Hampshire?’

‘To infiltrate the Earl’s estate.’

Sam tapped his fingers on the table and considered for a while. For years he’d sworn one day he would return to England and make Lord Westchester pay for stealing his childhood and ripping him from his family. As a young lad his fantasies of revenge were elaborate and often involved the old Earl falling to his knees, begging Sam for forgiveness. Now, older, and more worldly wise, Sam knew it was unlikely Lord Westchester would even remember the day he carelessly wrongfully accused a young boy of stealing. But he wanted the older man to at least acknowledge the wrong he had done and perhaps suffer in some small way, too.

‘These wealthy types often have house parties at their country estates, don’t they?’ Sam asked, his mind ticking through possibilities.

‘Yes,’ Fitzgerald said slowly, ‘I believe so, but probably not in the depths of winter.’

‘Doesn’t matter. I’m in no rush.’

‘And you’d have to be invited.’

Sam grinned. It would be a challenge. Lady Georgina liked him, that much he was sure of, but in the way you liked a rather exotic animal in a menagerie: interesting to study for a few minutes, but certainly not someone you allowed close. Then there was Lady Georgina’s mother. She’d judged him within seconds of their meeting and he knew he hadn’t come out favourably. His family were not one of the select few she approved of and as such she would regard him as unsuitable for her daughter to spend any time with.

Feeling the rush of anticipation at the idea of spending more time with Lady Georgina, he quickly tried to dampen the feelings. It didn’t matter she was the first woman in a long time to pique his attention, she was not the one for him. He had to focus, not allow himself to get distracted by those soulful green eyes and the sense that there was so much more to Lady Georgina than most of her suitors gave her credit for.

‘They might not even host a house party,’ Fitzgerald said, but nothing could dampen Sam’s enthusiasm.

‘I’m sure I can persuade the fair Lady Georgina it would be a splendid idea,’ Sam said.

Rolling his eyes, Fitzgerald clapped Sam on the back. ‘One thing you’ve never suffered from is a lack of self-confidence.’

‘No point going through this world not believing in yourself. Not many other people will.’

Sam didn’t quite believe that sentiment, despite voicing it. He’d been lucky enough to have someone believe there was more to him than his convicted criminal status. George’s father, Henry Fitzgerald, had taken both him and Crawford in to his family and given them a chance to build good lives for themselves in Australia. If it wasn’t for the older man they would probably both be travelling from farm to farm, selling their services as farmhands like hundreds of other ex-convicts, with no real base, no real purpose. Sam would be eternally grateful his life had taken a different turn.

‘Drink up,’ Fitzgerald said. ‘You don’t want to be spotted in such an insalubrious establishment if you want to be accepted by Lady Georgina’s crowd.’

He thought it unlikely anyone even acquainted with Lady Georgina would wander into the tavern, but drained the rest of his ale all the same. It looked like he was going to be in London for the foreseeable future and he had a lot to plan if he was going to secure invitations to all the events the Earl’s daughter would be attending. A little bribery of Lady Georgina’s household staff might smooth the way. At least that way he would know which events the Earl’s daughter would be attending.

* * *

Giving in, Georgina crossed to the window and peeked out from behind the curtains. Her bedroom looked out over the gardens of Grosvenor Square and often she would stand watching the exhausted nannies and nursemaids chasing their energetic charges along the perfectly kept paths. Today, however, she’d fancied she had seen Mr Robertson out there.

She looked for thirty seconds, peering from her hidden position, before feeling rather stupid and stepping out from behind the curtains.

Of course there was no sign of the enigmatic Mr Robertson. There was absolutely no reason for him to be in her street, especially five hours after he’d paid his call.

‘Silly girl,’ she murmured to herself. She refused to behave like a lovesick fool.

Forcing herself away from the window, she had just turned when the door opened and Caroline came flouncing into the room.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘Nothing.’ Georgina felt her cheeks begin to colour at the lie.

‘Then why are you blushing?’

‘I was looking out the window,’ Georgina said.

‘For?’

‘For no one. Just looking.’

For once she wished her friend was a little less astute. It was clear Caroline didn’t believe her and Georgina watched as she crossed to the window and spent thirty seconds peering out.

‘There’s no one there,’ she said eventually.

‘I know. I told you, I was just looking.’

‘Hmm.’

‘You looked like you had news,’ Georgina said, deftly changing the subject.

‘I do. I’ve been asking around, very discreetly of course, and your Mr Robertson is from Australia,’ Caroline said triumphantly.

‘I know.’ Georgina didn’t correct her friend and inform her that Mr Robertson might have recently sailed from Australia, but was actually originally from Hampshire.

‘How do you know? Hardly anyone knows anything about him.’

‘He told me himself.’

‘You’ve seen him again? Already?’

‘Don’t look so pleased,’ Georgina groaned. ‘He called on me today, that is all.’

She left out their meeting in Hyde Park, knowing Caroline would be utterly fascinated and demand every last detail.

‘Anyway, he’s not my Mr Robertson.’

Waving a dismissive hand, Caroline flopped down on the bed. ‘Tell me everything,’ she said dramatically.

‘There’s nothing to tell. He came to call, Mother was here, as was Mr Wilcox. We sat and talked for a few minutes, then he left.’

Georgina didn’t add that she’d found it hard to banish Mr Robertson from her mind ever since his visit, ever since their encounter the previous night.

‘Will you see him again?’ Caroline asked.

‘I’m sure our paths might cross at some event or another. He is staying with Lady Winston.’

‘A relative?’

‘No, he’s a friend of her nephew.’

‘How wonderful,’ Caroline said dreamily, throwing herself back on to the bed and staring up at the canopy above.

‘He is just another acquaintance.’

‘So why were you looking for him out your window?’

‘I-I wasn’t,’ Georgina protested, but knew her stutter gave her away.