Courting the Forbidden Debutante

by Laura Martin

  ‘Lord Westchester,’ he said, weaving his way through the crowd of the Earl’s admirers. There were at least a dozen men and women clustered around him, congratulating him on a speech well delivered.

  The Earl turned his gaze on Sam and momentarily he felt all the hatred and years of suffering bubble to the surface. Quickly he worked to suppress the emotions and instead adopt a more welcoming expression. This was the moment he’d planned for so long, the first step of his scheme: testing to see if the old man remembered the boy he’d condemned to transportation all those years ago.

  ‘Please excuse me for interrupting,’ he said with a bow. ‘I know we have not been introduced, but I was so eager to make your acquaintance.’ Sam extended a hand. ‘I am Mr Samuel Robertson and it is truly an honour to meet you, Lord Westchester.’

  The Earl gave him a perfunctory look over, but there wasn’t even a flicker of recognition in his eyes and quickly he moved to turn back to his other companions.

  ‘I know it is irregular, but I am part of a small team looking to combat the corruption in the governing of Australia and we are looking to set up a political system,’ Sam said. Now he was sure the old man hadn’t recognised him it was time for the second step of the plan—to insert himself into Lord Westchester’s life so he could get as much ammunition for ruining his reputation as possible.

  He could tell this piqued the Earl’s interest so pushed on quickly. ‘I’m sure you can imagine the whole country is rife with criminals and others of low virtues, but we are eager to set up a fair and equitable system for its government. We feel we have a unique opportunity, a clean slate.’

  ‘What did you say your name was?’ the Earl asked.

  ‘Mr Samuel Robertson,’ Sam repeated.

  Lord Westchester took his proffered hand this time and shook it.

  ‘Tell me more about your organisation,’ he instructed, taking Sam by the elbow and guiding him a few steps away from the rest of the guests. Sam had to suppress a smile—the opportunity to get involved in the evolution of a new system of government was too much for Lord Westchester to resist.

  ‘At present we are only a small outfit,’ Sam said, ‘but we are calling for an end to the corrupt ways the Governors run things and looking at setting up a fairer system.’

  ‘You are funded by donations?’ Lord Westchester said.

  Sam nodded. ‘Mostly from the god-fearing wealthy landowners in Australia itself—they are keen to see their country run fairly by someone who understands the particular needs of a fledgling country—but also one or two benefactors here in England.’

  ‘We must talk more,’ the Earl said. ‘You would like some advice?’

  ‘I would.’

  ‘I have commitments here, people I must talk to, but why don’t you join me for a drink at my club later this evening. Perhaps ten o’clock?’

  ‘I would be honoured,’ Sam said, trying not to show his glee. It was clear Lord Westchester was flattered by Sam approaching him.

  Lord Westchester moved away and Sam let out a loud exhalation of air. His hands were shaking and his clothes felt uncomfortably tight, but he’d done it. He’d survived his first conversation with the Earl without punching the man or vomiting on his shoes.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Lady Georgina whispered from behind him.

  ‘Talking to your father,’ he said as he turned around.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Politics, what else?’ Sam said with a smile.

  ‘You’re interested in politics?’

  ‘You sound disbelieving.’

  She opened her mouth to reply, but promptly closed it again as she caught sight of something over his shoulder.

  ‘Mother,’ she murmured and quickly grasped his arm, pulling him through the crowd. He allowed himself to be led, ignoring the curious glances from a few of the other attendees, until they were in a quiet corner.

  ‘Why are you really here?’ Georgina asked, glancing around almost furtively as if she expected her mother to jump out from behind one of the potted plants.

  For a moment he had the urge to confess, to tell her everything that had happened to him at the hands of her father, but quickly he suppressed the idea. Telling Georgina she had been used by him to get close to the Earl would not end well and, although Sam knew nothing lasting could develop between them, he was reluctant to jeopardise his chance to spend even a few more hours in her company. One day in the not-too-distant future she would hate him for what he’d done to her father, but for now he would keep quiet.

  ‘I couldn’t keep away,’ he murmured and realised it was the truth.

  ‘You need to try harder then. It’s not as though we can spend any time together anyway.’

  ‘It has been worth it just to see you,’ he said, taking her hand and placing a kiss just below the knuckles so quickly Georgina didn’t have time to protest, then he was off through the crowd, distancing himself from the woman he really shouldn’t care so much about.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Georgina, Georgina,’ her mother called, her voice high with excitement. ‘Georgina, where are you?’

  Smoothing down her dress, Georgina rose from her favourite spot in the small library of their town house and went to find her mother.

  ‘The Duke has accepted,’ her mother said triumphantly, brandishing a letter in one hand. It was a short note confirming the Duke of Heydon would travel to Hampshire for the house party next week.

  ‘Wonderful.’ Georgina smiled, trying to summon up some excitement for her mother. After all, the Duke had seemed perfectly pleasant.

  ‘You shall need new dresses, only the finest material, if you are to impress the Duke,’ her mother gushed. ‘We’ll take a trip to the modiste today. Just imagine, if we do everything properly you could be a duchess.’

  She knew the idea of being a duchess should excite her, but in truth Georgina didn’t feel anything but mild panic. It was only a week until their house party in Hampshire. In three days they would be travelling back to the country to ensure everything was prepared for the arrival of their guests, and in just over a week Georgina would be engaged.

  It was ridiculous, knowing you were to be engaged, but not knowing to whom. Nevertheless, her father had made it clear that she would end the weekend with the decision to become betrothed to some suitable gentleman and out of the proposed guests he didn’t much mind which.

  ‘Three new evening gowns,’ her mother was saying. ‘And at least three new day dresses, perhaps more if we are to schedule different activities through the day.’

  ‘Won’t it look a little ridiculous if I change between each activity?’ Georgina asked.

  Her mother looked at her admonishingly. ‘Georgina Fairfax, you will not be the only young woman at the party. Everyone will be trying to impress the Duke. You need to stand out.’

  ‘Yes, Mother,’ she said meekly, knowing there was no point in arguing.

  ‘I’ve got an addition to this little party of yours,’ Lord Westchester said as he emerged from his study.

  ‘An addition?’ Georgina’s mother asked, a hint of panic in her voice. Georgina knew her mother had spent hours tweaking the guest list before invitations had been sent, trying to entice the most eligible gentlemen down to Hampshire and balance the party with debutantes less well connected and less attractive than her own daughter. It had been like a military operation and Georgina could see the fear in her mother’s eyes that her father would ruin everything with his next words.

  ‘A young man interested in politics, looking to set up a new political system in Australia.’

  ‘Is he a potential suitor?’ Lady Westchester asked mildly.

  Georgina’s father laughed, ‘No, no, nothing like that. But if I’m going to be stuck at home surrounded by these society bores I might as well have someone to have a sensible discussion with.’
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  Society bores—a very pleasant way to think of her future husband.

  ‘Yes, dear,’ Lady Westchester said resignedly. ‘The man’s name? Then I can organise an invitation.’

  From her mother’s face she knew it wouldn’t be as simple as organising one invitation. To balance the numbers they would now need to find another young lady to attend the party, a young lady who might draw one of the suitors’ focus away from Georgina. But there was no way Lady Westchester could argue with her husband; they didn’t have that sort of relationship.

  ‘Mr Robertson,’ Lord Westchester said. ‘Staying with Lady Winston, I believe. He’s happy to bring a friend if you need to balance your numbers.’

  Trying not to react, Georgina slowly let her eyes rise up and meet her mother’s, wondering if she would say anything. Her father had not connected Mr Robertson with the man who had caused the scandal that was forcing the issue of her marriage and Georgina didn’t know if her mother would try to dissuade the addition to the house party by informing him.

  ‘I’ll arrange it,’ Lady Westchester said after a few seconds’ pause.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Two old convicts on their way to an earl’s house party,’ Ben Crawford said as they turned in through the ornate gates of the Westchester estate.

  Sam grimaced. The journey through Hampshire hadn’t taken them past his old village, but there were plenty of familiar sights that had brought back painful memories. Memories of a time when he’d been happy living at home with his mother and sisters, before he’d been wrenched away from all of that and thrown into a dank jail cell.

  The two men were on horseback, opting to brave the winter winds in favour of being cooped up in the carriage Lady Winston had loaned them for the weekend trip away. The carriage was somewhere behind them, transporting their luggage as well as a valet neither man needed but Lady Winston had insisted on to make them look a little less like savages.

  ‘Probably not the best way to introduce ourselves,’ Sam said. ‘The Earl thinks I’m of outstanding moral character and trying to change the way Australia is governed.’

  ‘You always were a good liar, but that is far-fetched even for you.’

  ‘As long as he believes it,’ Sam said. He wanted to get to know the Earl’s household and see if the old man was continuing his immoral behaviour with the maids as he had been prone to all those years ago. There would be at least one disgruntled servant willing to talk, surely. Sam was hoping to find someone who would stand up to the old man and go public with his behaviour. With the Earl’s focus on promoting good moral values for his political candidate, Mr Moorcroft, he could publicly shame him—men had been ruined in politics for far less.

  ‘At least he doesn’t recognise you,’ Crawford said.

  There hadn’t been much chance of that. Sam doubted Lord Westchester spared a second thought for the boy he’d condemned to years of imprisonment and hard labour. Or the family he’d been cruelly separated from never to see again.

  ‘I wasn’t important enough to make a lasting impression,’ Sam said. It had been a tense few seconds when Sam had stood in front of the Earl a couple of weeks earlier to see if the old man recognised him, but there hadn’t been even a flicker of recognition in the old man’s eyes.

  They rode on along the drive. It was so long there was no sign of the house even though it was a good few minutes since they’d entered the grounds of the estate. Sam had been here before, as a child, but his memories of that time were a little vague and he certainly hadn’t been paying attention to the landscaping. Now he looked over the grounds with a landowner’s eye. Much of the surrounding farmland, filled with both crops and livestock, would belong to the Earl, productive and practical, but here in the grounds of Westchester Place it was all about appearance. Manicured lawns stretched to either side and the drive itself was lined with well-established oak trees. Farther ahead Sam could see the gardens started in earnest—neat flowerbeds waiting for the spring weather to be planted with all manner of flowers.

  ‘Bit different to back home,’ Ben murmured as he, too, took in the view.

  At this time of year in Australia everything was sun-scorched yellows and browns with the vibrant blue backdrop of the sea and the sky. Here in England the colours of winter were much more muted—hazy greens and greys as well as a lot of muddy browns.

  The house came into view, an impressive stone structure with a central square building and two curving wings to either side. It was large, but not excessively so for a man of the Earl’s status and wealth.

  Sam felt a shudder of anticipation as he saw Lady Georgina standing beside her mother greeting a guest who had just arrived. She was covered head to toe in a thick cloak to combat the near-freezing temperatures. It was maroon in colour, lined with white fur, and made her look like a wintery princess. As they drew nearer he could see her cheeks were flushed with colour and the tip of her nose was pink from the cold. Her dark hair was tucked inside the hood of the cloak, but a few loose tendrils fell over her shoulder seductively. Grimacing, he realised she would have to be making an effort to impress the gaggle of suitors descending on Westchester Place, all weighing up if Lady Georgina would make them a suitable bride.

  ‘Mr Robertson,’ Lady Westchester greeted him coolly as he dismounted and bowed his head first in her direction and then in Lady Georgina’s.

  ‘It is my pleasure to introduce Mr Crawford,’ Sam said.

  Sam’s invitation had come with the option to bring another gentleman along with him. He’d been puzzled at first until Georgina had sent a brief note explaining his last-minute addition to the party had meant her mother having to try to balance the numbers of male and female guests. She’d had to settle on two pretty but penniless sisters and could not have invited one without the other. Hence Crawford’s invitation to the house party to even up the numbers once again.

  For his part Crawford had been eager to get out of London for a few days, although tight-lipped as to the reason. Sam suspected it was something to do with a woman—with Crawford it often was—and had given up trying to pry. A few days in the country would do his friend good and hopefully give whatever young woman Crawford had been dallying with time to get over her infatuation.

  ‘A footman will show you to your rooms,’ Lady Westchester said. Her eyes were cold and unblinking and Sam had no doubt as to her feelings on his presence at this gathering. He wondered why she hadn’t informed her husband he was the reason they were having to rush Georgina’s marriage, but for now was just pleased that she hadn’t.

  As they entered Sam felt a heavy sensation in his chest as he recognised the entrance hall from his visits eighteen years ago. The circumstances then were completely different—he’d entered through the back door, of course, but once or twice had peeked upstairs from his spot in the servants’ quarters. His mother had been newly employed as an assistant cook, her recently widowed status making it necessary for her to find work again. On a few occasions she’d brought Sam with her to Westchester Place, where he’d happily fetched and carried and done a few odd jobs. He’d been almost invisible, not even a real servant, just the son of one.

  Now he might not be the most welcome of guests, but he was a guest all the same. What a difference nearly two decades could make.

  Pushing aside the memory of his mother’s pale, worried face when he’d last been in the grand house, he followed the footman up the sweeping staircase to the first floor. He’d never ventured up here before, despite the Earl’s allegations all those years ago that he’d stolen Lady Westchester’s priceless emeralds from her jewellery box in her bedroom.

  Their two rooms were at the end of a long hallway, and although he doubted they were the finest guest rooms the house had to offer they were still pretty impressive. Each was furnished with a four-poster bed, complete with canopy and heavy curtains. The wallpaper was fresh and the furniture polished to a gleam.
And his room had a spectacular view across the formal gardens directly to the rear of the house to the lawns beyond. Despite it being only mid-afternoon already the wintery sunlight was fading and long shadows were beginning to form, but still he could see it was a garden maintained to the highest standard, as he was coming to realise the Earl seemed to insist on in all aspects of his life.

  ‘Drinks will be served at seven in the drawing room, and dinner is at eight. If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to ring. I shall show your valet where everything is kept,’ the footman said before departing.

  Crawford turned to Sam, his eyes wide with amazement.

  ‘Bit much,’ he said, grinning.

  Although they’d been in plenty of grand houses in London since their return to England, nothing was quite as impressive as this. The town houses were elegant and beautifully presented, but on a much smaller scale than the country estates, and Westchester Place was no doubt among the finer of the ancestral homes in England.

  ‘Four hours until drinks,’ Sam said. ‘Should be just enough time to work out how to tie your cravat.’

  Georgina dawdled, fidgeting with her dress and hair even though everything had been declared perfect by her mother fifteen minutes before. She didn’t want to go downstairs, didn’t want to face all of her suitors together for the first time. It made the realisation that she was going to have to marry one of them all the more immediate.

  ‘Cheer up,’ Caroline said, bursting in through the door to Georgina’s bedroom. ‘I had a peek in before I came up to get you and they’re not too bad a bunch.’

  It was true, her mother had been very selective in the gentlemen she’d invited to this house party. Most of the men were perfectly nice, perfectly normal with no heinous vices. If Georgina was being sensible, she would admit that she could have a contented life with many of them. She’d been raised to believe that a good marriage was not built on love or friendship, it was built on a foundation of two people of the same social status working towards the same things. Namely producing a family and furthering the good name of that family.