Courting the Forbidden Debutante

by Laura Martin

  ‘Perhaps we could dance the first quadrille,’ Georgina suggested, ‘and Miss Yaxley will save you her first waltz.’

  ‘Until later,’ the Duke said with a bow.

  ‘What are you doing, Georgie?’ Caroline hissed.

  ‘Exactly what he asked, arranging a dance.’

  ‘You gave him my waltz.’

  ‘Caroline, I know you better than I know myself. And you just went weak at the knees at the sight of that man.’

  ‘I did not. Anyway, he’s not interested in me.’

  ‘How do you know if you don’t give him a chance?’

  ‘He could be the answer to your problems,’ Caroline whispered. ‘You could be a duchess.’

  ‘I called him a goat. I hardly think he’s considering me as a suitable wife.’

  ‘He seemed remarkably good tempered about it,’ Caroline mused.

  ‘We can both dance with him,’ Georgina said, ‘and that way we see if either of us...’ She trailed off, distracted by the sight of Mr Robertson with the beautiful Miss Felicity Fowler on his arm.

  Focus, she told herself. Right now there was a man, an entirely suitable and respectable man, offering to dance with her. Someone her parents would certainly approve of. She should not care what Mr Robertson did, or who he did it with.

  Sam could tell the plan was working. Even from this distance, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lady Georgina was doing her very hardest not to stare at him and failing miserably.

  It had been Ben Crawford’s idea, of course. Crawford who was so successful with the ladies, Crawford who had never had less than three admirers at one time.

  ‘Make her jealous,’ was what he’d said.

  So that was what Sam was doing. At first he hadn’t thought it would work, but it seemed absence did make the heart grow fonder. Two weeks he’d left it, two weeks of avoiding all the social engagements he knew Lady Georgina would be attending. His list was exceedingly accurate, sent every few days by a maid he’d bribed in the Westchester household. Tonight, after two weeks of avoiding Lady Georgina, it was step two of his plan. To let her see him having fun.

  Sam knew he was stepping on thin ice. His intention, of course, was still not to seduce the girl, he liked her far too much for that, just to prompt her into making contact again, so they could pick up their friendship and he would gain access to her father when he arrived in London.

  ‘So are the rumours true?’ the current pretty young thing on his arm asked, her voice a little breathless from the energetic dance they had been sharing.

  ‘Which ones?’ He couldn’t remember her name and right now was eager to detach her steely grip from his arm, but even he knew he had to extricate himself politely.

  ‘Everyone is saying you’re from Australia.’

  ‘That rumour is true.’

  ‘And that you’re a dangerous criminal.’

  ‘Do you really think Mr Hardcastle would let a hardened criminal into his home?’ Sam asked, gesturing at the sumptuous ballroom filled with the cream of society.

  ‘No.’ She sounded a bit disappointed.

  ‘If you would excuse me,’ Sam said, peeling her fingers from his arm. ‘It has been a pleasure, the highlight of my evening. But there’s someone I need to have a quick word with...’

  Quickly he darted through the crowd, at first thinking to make his way to the gentlemen’s retiring room, but as he saw Lady Georgina step into his path he smiled. He felt a warm rush of affection and the irresistible pull he was beginning to associate with the woman in front of him. It was undeniable—he had missed her these last two weeks, however foolish that might be.

  ‘Good evening, Lady Georgina,’ he said and bowed, as he knew was the convention, making sure to keep some distance despite his urge to reach out and run his fingers down her cheek.

  She looked radiant this evening, in a gold and white gown with intricate embroidery across the bodice, drawing the eye to a rather low neckline. Quickly he looked up. That way ruination lay.

  ‘You’ve been avoiding me.’

  ‘You asked me to,’ he said.

  She smiled, seeming unsure of herself for the first time since they’d met.

  ‘How’s the husband hunting?’ he asked.

  She shook her head and there was a momentary flash of sadness in her eyes.

  ‘Dance with me,’ he said, holding out a hand. Really she should refuse, she should do one of those pretty curtsies she was so practised in and move on to someone more suitable, but he saw her hesitate, saw the war between common sense and desire in her eyes.

  After a long few seconds she surprised him by taking his arm and looking up at him expectantly.

  Feeling his pulse quicken, he led Lady Georgina to the dance floor, looping an arm around her waist to get her in position, and as the music began he swept her across the floor. As they danced she looked up at him, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted slightly and a glimmer of something that looked rather like desire in her eyes. Sam had the urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her away like the barbarian he was, and it was only the dense crowd that stopped him from doing just that. It was a moment of madness, but for a few minutes Sam forgot his plans for revenge, forgot the true reason he was here and allowed himself to enjoy Lady Georgina’s company.

  He saw her breath quicken as his arm brushed accidently against her chest, saw her eyes glaze over slightly as she looked up at him and he knew that if he suggested they sneak off somewhere more private Lady Georgina would have as hard a time as he would resisting the desire they were both feeling.

  The dance ended and once again he stood for much longer than was proper with his arm around her waist, feeling every little movement of her body.

  With great effort he pulled away, executing another bow and then taking another step back to put even more distance between them. He didn’t know what he would do if he stayed in such close proximity.

  ‘Thank you for the dance,’ he said.

  ‘It was my pleasure.’

  In the confines of the ballroom, with everyone else listening, their conversation was stilted. It wasn’t as though Sam could tell her what he was really thinking. That was not appropriate for the ears of society.

  ‘I will let you get back to your mother,’ he said, seeing the petite Lady Westchester bearing down on them, no doubt to chastise her daughter on spending time with an entirely unsuitable man once again.

  As she turned he slipped away, feeling more than a little unsettled. His plan had been to make her miss him with his absence, but he hadn’t expected to feel such an overwhelming rush when he saw her again. He was close to losing control of himself and the situation.

  Quickly he darted through the crowd, stepping out into the hallway and making his way to the gentlemen’s retiring room. A couple of games of cards were going on across the hall and he had to suppress a smile as he saw Crawford lounging comfortably at one of the tables. He’d learnt long ago never to play cards with Crawford. His friend’s mind was too quick, his brain too calculating. It turned a game of chance into a game of no hope. No doubt gentlemen around London would be cursing Ben Crawford’s name over the breakfast table tomorrow morning.

  ‘Mr Robertson,’ a familiar voice called softly just as he placed his foot on the first step. She’d somehow evaded her mother and followed him.

  ‘Lady Georgina. We shouldn’t be seen together out here,’ he said quietly, glancing over her shoulder at the noise from the ballroom. So far no one had followed her out, but it would only be a matter of time until another of the guests ventured out into the hallway.

  ‘You’re right.’ Still she did not move or make any effort to bid him farewell. ‘Can we...?’ She trailed off.

  Standing a step beneath him, looking up, she looked so forlorn, so lost that he wanted to gather her in his arms and hold her tight. He knew exac
tly how she was feeling; he, too, felt peculiarly unsettled by the dance they had just shared.

  ‘Come,’ he said, ‘quickly before anyone sees.’

  He took her by the hand and pulled her along the hallway, trying door handles until one gave way and opened into a darkened room. Grabbing a candle from a nearby recess, he ushered her inside and closed the door firmly behind him.

  They had entered a small study, with a large oak desk at one end and a few armchairs in front of the fire. Definitely Mr Hardcastle’s domain.

  ‘I can’t be gone long,’ Lady Georgina said, glancing over her shoulder. ‘Mama will miss me.’

  Sam waited in silence. It hadn’t been he who’d requested this meeting, although he was glad they were on speaking terms again.

  ‘Was there something you wanted to ask me, Lady Georgina?’

  She stepped closer, her chin tilted so her eyes were looking directly up at his. Careful, he cautioned himself. In private, in the soft glow of the candlelight, a man could get into grave trouble.

  ‘I just...’ She trailed off, her voice catching as she took another step forward and placed a tentative hand on his jacket. He saw the hesitation in her eyes, the mixture of desire and confusion.

  Sam knew she wanted to be kissed, she just didn’t know how to ask for it. He also knew that, despite every fibre of his body telling him it was a bad idea, there was no way he was going to be able to stop himself.

  Savouring the moment, he bent lower and brushed his lips against hers, gently at first, and then slowly he increased the pressure of his lips against hers.

  Her lips were soft on his, hesitant and unsure, but sweet all the same. Every part of his consciousness screamed at him to step away, that he couldn’t do this, but instead he found himself looping an arm around her waist and pulling her in closer.

  ‘We shouldn’t,’ he murmured, kissing her again, knowing that even though the kiss shouldn’t be happening it felt so sublimely right. Gently he nipped at her lower lip, causing her to gasp in surprise, and then kissed her as if she were the only woman on earth.

  Underneath his hands he could feel the heat of her body and slowly he ran his fingers down the length of her spine. Even through the fabric of her dress he could feel every contour and involuntarily an image of Lady Georgina stepping out of her pooled dress sent a sharp stab of desire through his body. Cupping her chin, he kissed her again, groaning as she brushed against his breeches accidentally.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lady Georgina whispered. ‘I know we can’t do this.’ Still she did not pull away completely, just enough to tilt her chin up and look into his eyes.

  ‘No harm done,’ Sam said, his voice thick with desire. He wanted nothing more than to lower her onto the rug, strip her naked and cover her body with his own.

  ‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she said, still pressed up against his chest.

  ‘Sometimes two people cannot ignore the desire they feel for one another,’ Sam murmured into her ear, unable to resist placing a soft kiss on the delicate skin of her earlobe. ‘It may be foolhardy, but it is impossible to resist.’

  ‘Nothing more can happen.’ It was phrased as much as a question as a statement.

  ‘I suppose not,’ Sam said, wondering how damned he would be if he just slipped a finger under the material of her dress and ran it around the silk detail of her neckline.

  Sighing, Lady Georgina pulled away and Sam felt peculiarly bereft by her distance.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, twiddling with the material of her skirt, but before she could say any more the door flew open.

  Sam closed his eyes as Mr Hemmingate burst into the room. He was sure he’d locked the door, could actually feel the flick of the key in his fingers, but he must have not turned it quite far enough.

  ‘Unhand her,’ Mr Hemmingate shouted, far too dramatically for the scene that was in front of him.

  Despite what had been occurring just a minute previously Lady Georgina was now standing a good three feet from him, her body turned in profile as she tried to compose herself. She looked a little flushed, but luckily not too dishevelled.

  ‘There’s nothing going on,’ Sam said through gritted teeth. No doubt Mr Hemmingate meant to draw a crowd to embarrass Lady Georgina the way he had a couple of weeks ago.

  ‘You scoundrel, you filthy cretin. I know your type, seducing an innocent young woman who is far above your station.’

  ‘You need to go,’ Sam said, turning to Lady Georgina. The last thing he wanted was for her to be caught in another scandalous position because of him.

  ‘Someone will see me,’ she muttered. ‘He’s making too much noise.’

  ‘You will regret ever laying hands on one of the sweetest, most innocent women I’ve ever had the honour to know,’ Mr Hemmingate said, advancing on Sam.

  Drawing himself up to his full height, he glared down at the man in front of him. Mr Hemmingate was not short, but lacked any real substance or muscle. Sam, on the other hand, had spent his days toiling physically under the Australian sun and as a result had a broad physique and a right hook to be proud of.

  ‘The window,’ he said, throwing the words back over his shoulder to Lady Georgina.

  ‘You want me to climb out the window?’ she hissed.

  ‘It’s either that or the door.’

  She grumbled something about the situation being farcical, but headed for the window anyway. He heard rustling behind him, but already had turned his attention back to Mr Hemmingate, who had been momentarily distracted by Lady Georgina wrestling with the window sash.

  ‘Wait,’ he called, ‘you don’t need to run, Lady Georgina. I will protect you.’

  ‘By causing her ruin?’ Sam asked in disgust.

  It was clear the man desired Lady Georgina and was trying to use the prospect of a scandal to force her to accept him as a husband.

  ‘What’s going on?’ a voice asked as a gaggle of middle-aged women entered the room.

  ‘I found this criminal cad forcing himself on Lady Georgina,’ Mr Hemmingate said.

  ‘Slander,’ Sam said, not daring to turn around to see if Lady Georgina had made it out of the window in time.

  ‘Slander?’ Mr Hemmingate spluttered. ‘Twice I’ve found you with your hands all over poor Lady Georgina.’

  ‘Be careful what you say, Mr Hemmingate,’ one of the ladies cautioned.

  ‘Do you see Lady Georgina?’ Sam asked.

  ‘You sent her out through the window,’ Mr Hemmingate spluttered.

  All eyes, including Sam’s, turned to the window. There was no sign of Lady Georgina and even in her haste she’d managed to push it closed behind her.

  ‘You’re starting to sound ridiculous,’ Sam said, his voice low.

  ‘He’s a criminal, a foreigner,’ Mr Hemmingate protested, looking for support in the ever-growing crowd of people.

  ‘And you are trying to besmirch Lady Georgina’s good name in the hope she will be forced to marry you.’

  A muttering spread through the crowd and Sam could see many of the assembled guests believed his version of events.

  ‘What’s going on?’ The deep voice of their host, Mr Hardcastle, cut a path through the guests.

  ‘I found this wastrel in your study, forcing himself on Lady Georgina,’ Mr Hemmingate repeated.

  ‘Lady Georgina, she’s outside. How can she be being seduced when I spoke to her not thirty seconds ago?’ Mr Hardcastle asked.

  Sam tried not to gawp as Lady Georgina appeared as if on cue through the crowd, arm in arm with Miss Yaxley.

  ‘You have to stop this now, Mr Hemmingate,’ she said softly.

  ‘Stop...?’ He spluttered, then, turned to the rest of the guests. ‘Surely none of you believe this farce?’

  Already people were beginning to leave, not wanting to see any more now it appeared there
was nothing scandalous going on, just a man desperately trying to get the belle of the Season to notice him.

  ‘I will have my satisfaction,’ Mr Hemmingate demanded, turning back to Sam. ‘Tomorrow morning at dawn.’

  Sam stared at him blankly, not comprehending his meaning.

  ‘A duel,’ Mr Hemmingate spat. ‘Hampstead Heath, tomorrow at dawn. Your choice of weapon.’

  ‘I’m not going to fight you.’

  ‘Too cowardly. I should have known. It’s not as if you’re a gentleman.’

  ‘Fists.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s my choice of weapon. Fists. Unless you want to back out, of course.’

  ‘That is not acceptable for a duel,’ Mr Hemmingate spluttered. ‘Do you know nothing?’

  ‘Are you worried you’ll lose?’ Sam asked.

  Mr Hemmingate paused, looking at Sam for a long moment, before saying, ‘Fists it is. Bring a second.’

  Mr Hemmingate turned and left the room, leaving just Sam and Mr Hardcastle, their host for the evening. Wordlessly the older man poured two generous glasses of whisky.

  ‘Lady Georgina, eh?’ he said with a grin.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘I can’t,’ the young groom protested. ‘Your mother will dismiss me if she finds out.’

  ‘Please, Richards.’ She knew what she was asking was too much, but she also doubted her mother would dismiss the groom if she discovered what Georgina had been up to. Lady Westchester wouldn’t be so cruel as to punish Richards for Georgina’s mistakes.

  Mistakes—how many of those had she made in the last twenty-four hours? She wasn’t sure what had come over her, it was as though an entirely different person was inhabiting her body and making all these rash decisions.

  Surely one more couldn’t hurt, then.

  There was no reason for her to attend the duel and so many reasons for her to stay away. The biggest of which was Mr Robertson.

  She’d spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed, wondering what had come over her. She’d never kissed anyone before, and had even managed to avoid the pawing attentions of the more desperate of gentlemen in a darkened hallway or terrace. It had been her first kiss and it had been wonderful.