Courting The Forbidden Debutante. Laura Martin
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.
‘Where’s the third one of you?’ Lady Winston asked as she elbowed her way through the crowd towards Sam and George.
‘He had a prior engagement,’ Sam said, although he didn’t know that was the truth. Ben Crawford had been acting strangely all week, ever since the ball where they’d first made their entrance into society.
‘A woman, no doubt,’ Lady Winston cackled. ‘He’s a good-looking boy.’
‘The ladies do love him,’ Fitzgerald murmured.
Lady Winston didn’t answer and he followed her gaze across the room to where Georgina and her mother had just entered.
‘Shoo,’ Lady Winston whispered to her nephew.
Suppressing a laugh at Fitzgerald’s disgruntled expression, Sam raised an eyebrow at Lady Winston, silently asking her what she was doing.
‘Better not to have to introduce anyone else when we get your Lady Georgina over here,’ she said. ‘Too much distraction.’
‘So pleased to be nothing more than an unwanted distraction,’ Fitzgerald murmured, but wandered off all the same.
‘Lady Westchester,’ Lady Winston called, much louder than was proper. A few conversations stopped as heads turned in their direction, but Sam could see her break with etiquette was not a surprise to most of the other guests.
‘Lady Winston,’ Georgina’s mother said as they made their way through the small crowd.
‘I believe you have been introduced to Mr Robertson,’ Lady Winston said. ‘He’s a dear friend of my nephew.’
‘A pleasure to see you again, Lady Westchester, Lady Georgina,’ Sam said, executing a small bow. He was beginning to get to grips with the social etiquette required when out and about among the ton. Correct forms of address were to be adhered to at all times, the more polite you were the better and it was unseemly to talk to one person for too long.
In truth, all the bowing and titles seemed bizarre to him. He’d been brought up the son of a clerk and later, when his father had passed away and his mother had resumed her role as a cook, the son of a servant. His mother had ensured he was always polite, but titles and peerages had not been part of his world. Even less so after his conviction. First on the hulk ship, then on the transport ship and once they’d arrived in Australia there was no room for politeness. You pushed and shoved with the rest of the filthy men and women to ensure you got your rations for the day and respect for the guards was hard to summon when they ruled with whips and fists.
When he thought about it he should be much more uncouth than he was. It made him laugh when he remembered back to the dirty young lads he and Crawford had been when George Fitzgerald’s father had taken them in. Slowly he’d cleaned them up and taught them not only how to survive in Australia, but also reminded them how to read and write, how to address people respectfully and how to behave like decent members of society. It had taken years, but the older man’s patience had meant he and Crawford were slowly transformed from coarse convict lads to young men who could hold their own with people from any level of society.
‘Come, sit with me,’ Lady Winston said. ‘My legs aren’t as young as they used to be.’
There was no denying that Lady Winston was a sly old woman. Sam knew there was nothing wrong with her legs, it was just a ploy to help him sit with the lovely Lady Georgina. Once the two Westchester women were seated it was unlikely that they would move throughout the performance.
‘I hope you are well, Mr Robertson,’ Lady Georgina said as she took her seat next to him.
‘Much better for seeing you.’
‘Empty flattery does not suit you,’ she said, but Sam could see the smile that was trying to break out on her lips. He suddenly wanted very much to see her smile again, to watch as those rosy-pink lips curved upwards and to know it was he who’d made them do so. Unbidden, images of those lips doing much more than just smiling at him began to creep into his mind and he had to use all of his resolve to push them away and focus on the conversation they were having instead.
‘It’s true. I’m told tonight will be an evening of musical excellence and I need your expertise to help me navigate through it.’
‘I’m hardly an expert.’
‘Do you play an instrument, Lady Georgina?’
‘Of course. I play the piano.’
‘And you sing?’
‘There aren’t many young ladies who don’t.’
‘And I’m guessing