by Laura Martin
Chapter Eight
Today he would not be a fool. That was his aim. Well, one of his many aims, but perhaps the most important.
Mounting the horse Lady Winston had hired for his use throughout his time in London he urged it gently through the quiet streets. He was heading for Hyde Park. It was his third early morning outing this week, all of them designed to coincide with when Lady Georgina liked to ride out along Rotten Row, although so far he’d been unsuccessful in accidentally bumping into her.
As for not being a fool, he was determined that should they meet, he would remain objective. He needed to re-open their friendship, just enough to gain an introduction to her father when he arrived in London. He was certainly not in favour with Lady Westchester, so it would have to be Lady Georgina who introduced him.
After tea a few days earlier Lady Georgina had turned to him with those soulful green eyes and asked him not to try to see her again. Of course he’d agreed—at the time there was no other option—but he needed her to reconsider.
You miss her, a small voice taunted him inside his head.
That was nonsense. How could he miss a woman he barely knew? A woman he was only pursuing a friendship with to get closer to her father? Admittedly he’d expected Lady Georgina to be shallow and self-involved, whereas she’d turned out to be witty and just that little bit too alluring for comfort, but that didn’t mean he missed her when they hadn’t seen each other for just a few days.
Involuntarily an image of her leaning in towards him popped into his mind. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, and she looked like she was just begging to be kissed. It wasn’t an image from memory, Lady Georgina had never looked at him like that, but it was an image that had haunted his dreams the past few nights.
‘Perhaps one kiss,’ he murmured to himself as he rode through the gates into Hyde Park. One kiss couldn’t be all that disastrous. Not if it were conducted when there was no chance they would ever be discovered.
Smiling ruefully, he silently chastised himself. There would be no one kiss, no more inappropriate thoughts. He hadn’t clawed his way up from the lowest point in his life to become a wealthy Australian landowner and a successful, influential man by giving in to passing desires. Focus, that was what he needed now.
As he approached one end of Rotten Row he slackened his grip on the reins of his horse a little, allowing the animal to stride out and quicken the pace. Before pushing it into a gallop, he cast an eye over the other riders. No sign of Lady Georgina—in fact, the whole area was particularly quiet. Especially for such a glorious morning. It was cold, bitterly so, and the frost on the grass was thick and glittering in the sunlight, but the sky was blue and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen.
Coming from such warm temperatures in the Australian summer, he had been shocked at first at how the cold could bite at your fingers and whip around your ears, but memories of icy winter days from his childhood soon came flooding back.
Pushing his horse into a gallop, he bent low to minimise the sharp sting of the wind against his face and spared a thought for his horses toiling away in the soaring temperatures back home.
Only once he had done two stretches backwards and forward along Rotten Row did he slow as he saw the now familiar figure of Lady Georgina on horseback. Today she was dressed in a bright red riding habit which made her look regal in appearance, especially with the gold trim around the hem.
With difficulty he stopped himself from racing to greet her, instead allowing his horse to select its own pace towards her.
‘Lady Georgina,’ he greeted as he approached. ‘We must stop meeting like this.’
Eyeing him suspiciously, she inclined her head in greeting. ‘You contrived to meet me here,’ she said bluntly.
‘I did.’
This response surprised her. She’d evidently expected him to deny engineering another meeting.
‘I’ve been thinking about what you said,’ he said softly, ‘and you’re right.’
‘What bit of it?’
‘All of it. We shouldn’t see each other again, not one on one.’ He held up a hand as she went to interrupt. ‘What I came here today to say was that I hope we can still be civil at social events. I’m in London for the next few months at least, our paths will cross, and I don’t think I could ignore you when we meet at a ball or event.’
‘No, of course not, that would look strange,’ Lady Georgina agreed.
‘I’m sorry for the harm I have caused you and I thank you for your friendship,’ he said, trying to read the expression in her eyes, but failing. ‘I will not seek you out again.’
Before she could say anything he pulled on the reins and turned his horse around, bowing his head, and set off without a backward glance.
* * *
She tried not to watch him leave, but after a few moments found it impossible to resist turning round in the saddle to check he had really gone.
Shaking herself, she turned back and quickly spurred her horse forward, eager to feel the cold wind in her hair and put as much distance between herself and her thoughts about Mr Robertson.
‘Lady Georgina,’ a voice called as she had just reached a fast trot. For a moment she wondered if she could just ignore the call, pretend she hadn’t heard it, but her pesky manners got the better of her and she slowed.
‘Lady Georgina,’ the voice called again and she had to work at setting her face into a serene expression despite the dread rising inside her.
‘Mr Hemmingate,’ she greeted him, noting his uncomfortable seating position on the horse he rode and the way his knuckles were white because he was gripping the reins so hard. Not a man who was comfortable on horseback clearly. Which suggested this meeting was entirely engineered as well. A man like Mr Hemmingate would not normally be out at such an early hour, exercising his horse in the park.
‘I was hoping we might meet,’ he said, awkwardly manoeuvring until his horse was walking alongside hers. ‘After the terrible events at the musical soirée, I have been most eager to reassure myself all is well.’
No thanks to you, she almost blurted out.
‘Quite well, thank you, Mr Hemmingate.’
‘And that scoundrel of a man, Mr Robertson, hasn’t been bothering you?’
‘Not bothering me at all.’
‘Quite remarkable how unrefined and unaware a man posing as a gentleman could be of the rules that govern our society.’
Georgina smiled weakly. She’d never liked Mr Hemmingate, not since their very first meeting when he’d taken pains to find out the names of the rest of her suitors and slipped her discreet little nuggets of information about them. None of it very complimentary. He was weaselly and underhand, and she couldn’t think of anyone she would wish to further an acquaintance with less.
‘I cannot believe he put you in that position, forcing you to be alone with him.’
‘Mmm,’ Georgina said, biting her tongue. If she could just keep her mouth shut hopefully she wouldn’t say something she regretted.
‘He did force you?’ Mr Hemmingate looked at her earnestly.
‘We were never alone,’ she ground out through clenched teeth. ‘Lady Winston...’
He smiled, revealing teeth that were far too pointy and slightly yellowed by the pipe he smoked with such pride.
‘Of course, you have to keep up that pretence, but we know the truth, don’t we, Lady Georgina?’
‘I really must be getting...’
‘I won’t keep you much longer, Lady Georgina,’ he said.
How rude would it be to just turn her horse around and gallop out of the park? She knew she could outpace him, knew he wouldn’t dare follow her home, not at this hour in the morning. It was tempting, but like so many things in Georgina’s life, not Acceptable Behaviour for a Lady.
‘My mother is expecting me,’ she said firmly.
�
�I wanted to tell you I really don’t mind the scandal. Many men would be withdrawing their suit, but I know that despite recent events you are a woman of superb moral character, Lady Georgina.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, wishing for once someone didn’t think of her as a woman of superb moral character. Anything to make him think twice about pursuing her.
‘I shall be calling on your father when he arrives in London,’ he said.
Georgina blanched, jolting forward in the saddle and almost losing her balance.
‘Mr Hemmingate,’ she said, trying to think quickly. If she didn’t say the right thing he would be approaching her father for her hand in marriage. Who knew what her father’s response would be, especially after he heard first hand of the scandalous situation Georgina had landed herself in? If she wasn’t careful she could end up being engaged to Mr Hemmingate, her least favourite of all her suitors. ‘I’m flattered by your interest, but are you sure we suit?’
‘I’ve been sure of it since the day we first met, Lady Georgina.’
Feeling a little nauseous, she clutched the reins of her horse tighter. She would just have to hope there would be more acceptable gentlemen offering for her and that her father would let her have a say in whom she accepted. He’d been indulgent up until now, perhaps if she reassured him she would choose somebody, he would allow her to be part of the decision-making.
‘I think if we just spent a little more time together you would see what a splendid match we would make,’ Mr Hemmingate said, giving her an encouraging smile.
‘I really—’ Georgina began speaking, but quickly Mr Hemmingate interrupted her.
‘Spend some time with me over the next few weeks,’ he said, ‘And if after that you still don’t think we would suit then I will withdraw my proposal.’
The last thing Georgina wanted to do was spend the next few weeks with Mr Hemmingate, but perhaps it was the opportunity she needed to show him they would make a disastrous couple, not least because she despised him.
‘What do you suggest?’ she asked warily.
‘Perhaps we could compare schedules,’ he suggested.
‘Of social events? I suppose that could work.’
She made a little mental note to find some hideous punishment for Mr Robertson next time she saw him. He deserved painful and prolonged torture for putting her in this situation. And of course, being a man, he got away without any consequences.
‘Shall I send you a note with my planned engagements later today?’ she asked. ‘I really must be getting home, my mother will be worried if I’m much longer.’
‘I could call on you,’ Mr Hemmingate suggested.
Swallowing down the despair she felt, she nodded in agreement.
‘Until this afternoon, Lady Georgina. I await our next meeting with great anticipation.’
Murmuring something incomprehensible Georgina gestured to her groom to start heading back. She was irritated by the entire morning. Not only did she now have to tolerate the company of a man she could not stand, she hadn’t even been able to ride out properly. Lady Penelope, her beautiful and headstrong horse, would have to wait for another day to fly through the park and she would have to wait to feel the sharp whip of wind against her cheeks and the spark of exhilaration as they reached high speeds.
Chapter Nine
‘We really must focus,’ Georgina’s mother was saying as they entered the ballroom. ‘Your father will be here within a week and if we want to influence his choice of husband for you, then we need to use our remaining time wisely.’
Suitors—that was all Georgina had been allowed to think about these past two weeks. She’d been pushed by her mother to accept every invitation and couldn’t keep count of the times she’d been reprimanded for not smiling sweetly enough or not filling her dance card with the most eligible of men.
‘Unnecessary,’ Georgina mumbled.
‘What was that, dear? And make sure you enunciate when you speak. No man likes a mumbler.’
Georgina didn’t dare point out at full volume that this whole fiasco was completely unnecessary. The rumours about her and Mr Robertson had been short-lived and overshadowed by a young debutante, unmarried of course, who had mysteriously disappeared to the country after her seamstress let it slip to another customer about her rapidly expanding waistline. However, Georgina knew her mother had seized on the opportunity and now nothing would stop her from seeing her daughter married within a couple of months.
‘Lord Walters is in attendance tonight,’ her mother said, dropping her voice to appropriate gossiping tones. ‘And Lord Rosenhall. You must make sure you dance with each twice. I have a good feeling about Lord Rosenhall.’
‘Lady Westchester,’ Georgina jumped in surprise as Lady Yaxley came hurtling towards them at great speed, closely followed by Caroline. ‘Have you heard?’
Georgina was always fascinated by the relationship between the two women. As she supposed most young girls did, she’d always seen her mother as exactly that, her mother. To get a glimpse into Elinor Fairfax, a woman in her own right with a life outside of the family, and more specifically friends, was always intriguing.
‘Heard what?’ Lady Westchester’s eyes sparkled in anticipation. Both women liked a little gossip.
‘The Duke of Heydon is in attendance.’
Georgina’s mother gasped theatrically and placed a hand over her mouth.
‘Don’t tease me, Sarah.’
‘I wouldn’t, Elinor. Not on a matter so important. And rumour has it that he’s looking for a wife.’
‘Rumour would put every eligible bachelor as looking for a wife,’ Caroline murmured in Georgina’s ear.
‘He’s notoriously picky about his social appearances,’ Lady Westchester said. ‘I can’t imagine he would be out and about for much less than searching for a suitable bride.’
‘Probably looks like a goat,’ Caroline muttered, causing Georgina to giggle involuntarily.
‘Enough, girls,’ Lady Yaxley chastised them. ‘You—’ she stared pointedly at Georgina ‘—are in need of a husband. And you—’ she turned her gaze on her own daughter ‘—well, let’s just say I’d like grandchildren before I’m too old to appreciate them.’
‘He’ll seek you out,’ Caroline said quietly, her face turning serious. ‘You’re the daughter of an earl and quite the most desired woman in this room.’
‘Desired for my father’s connections.’
‘Not by all.’ Georgina followed her friend’s line of sight to where Mr Robertson had just entered the ballroom. She felt an involuntary squeeze in her chest as he smiled at something one of his two companions said, before offering his arm to the spritely Lady Winston.
Two weeks—that had been the length of time since she’d last seen him, riding off into the distance on horseback. To say she hadn’t thought of him would be a lie, a huge lie at that. She found herself looking for him at balls, searching the crowd at the opera, seeking out his face as she strolled through the park. True to his word he had not sought her out.
Which was a good thing, she had to keep telling herself.
She’d been the one to warn him to stay away, but part of her wished he hadn’t found it so easy to comply with her wishes.
‘Mr Robertson does not spare me a single thought,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m quite sure of it.’
Not a single letter, not a single glimpse in the last two weeks, yet she’d found herself thinking about him every single day. Perhaps imagining his beautiful Australia over breakfast, or finding herself remembering the light touch of his fingers on her hand just as she was about to fall asleep.
It was ridiculous, he’d never really given her any indication that he was interested in her in anything other than a platonic fashion.
‘We could move closer,’ Caroline whispered, ‘ensure he notices you.’
‘Certainl
y not.’ She wasn’t going to parade around in front of him like some desperate society miss just to gain his attention. ‘Let’s find this Duke, see if he really does look like an old goat.’
‘A goat?’ A deep voice came from behind her shoulder. Georgina closed her eyes and counted to five before turning, trying to stop her lips from quivering. ‘I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but goat was not one of them.’
She had to raise her chin to look him in the eye and immediately she knew this was the elusive Duke of Heydon. Tall, slim and handsome, with an air of confidence about him that put him in the upper ranks of the nobility.
‘Your Grace,’ she said, bobbing into a low curtsy, nudging Caroline to do the same.
‘Lady Georgina, if I am correct?’ She nodded. ‘And Miss Yaxley?’
‘A pleasure to meet you, your Grace.’ Caroline’s voice had a slight wobble to it, something Georgina had never heard before. One thing she loved about her friend was her ability to treat the lowliest mister in the same manner as she might the Prince Regent. Normally titles did not faze her.
‘Any particular type of goat, Lady Georgina?’ the Duke asked.
She shook her head, but managed to keep her eyes locked on his.
‘Shame, I’ve always been fond of those little mountain goats with the tufty beards.’
Surreal—that was the only way to explain the conversation they were having. Completely and utterly surreal.
‘I’m told I should ask you to dance,’ the Duke said, a little smile playing on his lips.
‘Oh? What are your feelings on the matter?’ Georgina finally found her voice. He was just a man, she reminded herself. A very powerful man who had overheard her liken him to a goat, but a man all the same.
‘I would very much like it if you would save me a dance this evening, Lady Georgina. And you, too, Miss Yaxley.’
Georgina was about to answer when she heard Caroline twitter, ‘Of course’, in a most peculiar voice. They’d been the closest of friends for near on a decade and a half and never had she seen her act like this.