by Laura Martin
It had worked for her parents, it worked for so many couples. True, there were many unhappy marriages, rumours of affairs and mistresses, but Georgina suspected that was the same whatever the reason a couple first became linked.
A marriage arranged by and approved of by her parents was what she’d always been raised to expect, but now it was her reality she still couldn’t help but doubt whether she would ever truly be happy married to a man she barely knew.
In truth, she wasn’t sure if she would be happy being married at all. Of course she wanted a house of her own and children, but marriage meant giving up on her hidden dreams. No longer would she be able to hope for a life of adventure, of sailing off into the sunset, of a life where she got to make all the decisions. Once she was married she would have to honour and obey her husband for the rest of her life and Georgina found the idea more than a little suffocating.
‘The Duke is here,’ Caroline said, ‘looking rather dashing dressed all in black.’
‘Mmm,’ Georgina murmured as she fiddled with her hair again.
‘And I saw Mr Robertson with that handsome friend of his.’
Georgina tried not to react. She’d been surprised when her father had insisted Sam Robertson join their little party. Of course, her father had not been suggesting him as a potential suitor, but had said something about wanting to discuss Mr Robertson’s interest in politics in Australia. Georgina had even penned Mr Robertson a note asking him what he was doing, but in the end thought better of it and had thrown it away before it was sent. After their kiss in the study and then again on Hampstead Heath a couple of weeks ago she knew she had to try to forget about him, even if the memories were seared into her brain and she could see Sam’s face in her mind every time she closed her eyes.
‘He’s here as Father’s guest,’ Georgina said, trying to keep any emotion from her voice. Despite confiding almost everything in Caroline normally, she hadn’t told her about the kiss in the study or her foolish trip to the site of the duel the next morning. Her friend would probably urge her to live a little, to follow her heart while she still could, and Georgina knew she didn’t need any encouragement on that front. Her duty was to her parents, to behave like a respectable daughter of an earl, and that meant staying well away from Mr Robertson.
‘Your mother sent me to fetch you,’ Caroline said, briefly checking her own appearance in the mirror. ‘We shouldn’t keep her waiting too long.’
They walked downstairs arm in arm, Georgina glad of the steadfast support of her closest friend. Inside her chest her heart was hammering and she had to pause before she stepped into the drawing room. One of the men inside would be her husband in a matter of weeks.
‘Let’s play a game,’ Caroline whispered. ‘Let’s pretend the first man you set eyes on will be your future husband. Whisper his name to me when we’re inside.’
Georgina smiled, some of her tension already seeping away. It was hard to stay so agitated with Caroline around.
They stepped into the room and for a long moment Georgina found herself looking at her shoes, unable to bring herself to raise her eyes. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her mouth felt dry despite the glass of water she’d had just a few minutes previously.
Taking a deep breath, she raised her gaze, squeezing Caroline’s arm as she did so. Letting out a short laugh of relief, she felt her breathing settle and her heart slow.
‘Who was it?’ Caroline asked.
‘My father,’ Georgina whispered.
‘Well, you can’t marry him. Look again.’
She did, but it was impossible to tell who she’d seen first. Her treacherous gaze was drawn to Mr Robertson who was standing slightly to one side with his friend Mr Crawford. But it could have been the Duke she’d seen first, or Lord Rosenhall, it was hard to tell.
‘Georgina,’ her mother called, gliding through the crowd and gripping her daughter by the arm. ‘Give the Duke your attention tonight,’ she added in a whisper.
‘Yes, Mother.’ Really she had no choice. She had no doubt she would be seated next to him at dinner and, as the most eligible bachelor in the room, he would expect her mother to thrust them together on every occasion.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mr Robertson grin at her in that cavalier way of his and had to stop herself moving towards him. Normally so in control, Georgina found it difficult to resist the primal pull she felt towards him. She’d never experienced anything like it before and wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with it.
‘Unfair,’ she muttered to herself. Why couldn’t she feel this way towards someone suitable? The Duke, or at least a man who could trace his family origins back a century or two.
‘Go,’ her mother hissed, thrusting her into the centre of the room in the direction of the Duke.
Smiling serenely, Georgina pulled herself up straight and glided through the assembled guests. She could do this. Twenty-one years she’d been preparing for exactly this sort of situation, all she had to do now was remember everything she’d been taught.
As she made her way towards the Duke she couldn’t help but notice Mr Robertson moving as if to intercept her. She tried to ignore him, but found herself disappointed when he changed course and veered off slightly ahead of her.
‘Sly...’ she murmured as she watched him strike up a conversation with the Duke. Now she had no way of avoiding him.
‘Lady Georgina,’ the Duke greeted her, ‘and Miss Yaxley. You both look lovely this evening.’
‘Your Grace.’ Georgina sank into a low curtsy as was appropriate and felt Caroline do the same beside her.
‘A pleasure to see you both again,’ Mr Robertson said.
Slowly Georgina lifted her eyes to meet his. It would be rude not to greet him formally, but right now she didn’t trust herself entirely.
‘Mr Robertson was just telling me about life in Australia,’ the Duke said. ‘Fascinating place.’
‘I understand you are involved in politics,’ Georgina said, a little sharper than she intended to.
Mr Robertson threw his head back and laughed, a hearty chuckle that drew stares from around the room. Georgina could see her mother frowning out of the corner of her eye, but at the moment didn’t make a move to come over.
‘Aren’t we all?’ Mr Robertson asked, a twinkle in his eye that Georgina was trying not to notice. ‘As a landowner one has to decide how much living in a decent place matters to you. If it does matter, then surely it is our responsibility to put something back into that society, to help to shape and nurture it.’
‘An admirable sentiment,’ the Duke said. ‘We are all responsible for the country we live in. No man can say he isn’t interested in politics. It is the cornerstone of how we live, everything we do.’
‘We owe it to those less fortunate to care,’ Mr Robertson said quietly. ‘Those who do not have a voice or a vote.’
‘Women?’ Georgina asked sharply. There were a few fantasists among her circle who thought one day women might be allowed into the world of politics. Georgina did not believe it. In a world where a few rich and influential men held all the power, they weren’t going to share it without a fight.
‘Women, children, convicts, those men who do not have the right to a say in their own country,’ Mr Robertson said.
‘You would like to introduce a government to Australia?’ the Duke asked.
‘Perhaps one day,’ Sam said, ‘but we’re a long way off from that. The first step would be somehow trying to unite the colonies.’
‘Surely the Governor of each colony does a decent enough job?’ Georgina asked.
‘One man can be corrupted, paid to make a decision or to rule in a certain way,’ Sam said.
‘That’s why the House of Commons was created,’ the Duke said. ‘To wrest the power away from just the very rich few and share it among the many.’
‘
Do you object?’ Georgina asked, turning to the Duke. He was one of the richest and most powerful men in England.
He laughed. ‘Goodness gracious, no. I wouldn’t want the responsibility for running this country on my shoulders. It is enough trying to keep my own tenants happy.’
‘But some of the lords would rather the power was in their own hands,’ Sam said, ‘and some have embraced the new wave of politics and are busy making connections with the top politicians in the House of Commons so they still control as much as possible.’
‘Like my father with Mr Moorcroft,’ Georgina said. She knew that was why her father was such an avid supporter of the Whigs. By supporting Mr Moorcroft now he was hoping to have the man in his debt should he become Prime Minister one day.
‘Exactly,’ Sam said.
She should feel offended at his low regard for her father’s motives and character, but seeing as it was the truth it was difficult to be annoyed.
‘It’s interesting,’ the Duke said. ‘In a way Australia is a clean slate. You have an opportunity to build a system that really works there. Have you gained much support while you’ve been visiting London?’
Sam grimaced. ‘I find it best not to say too much about where I’m from—not everyone is welcoming when they hear you live in untamed Australia.’
‘How did you end up there?’ the Duke asked. His expression was curious and Georgina could see there was no malice in the question.
‘Convict ship,’ Mr Robertson said.
There was a pause, four long seconds and then five, before the Duke let out a hearty laugh and slapped Mr Robertson on the back.
‘You nearly had me believing you,’ the Duke said. ‘Remind me never to play cards against you.’
Georgina glanced at Mr Robertson for a moment. She didn’t know him well—despite the intimacies they’d shared she’d probably spent less than half a day in his company in total—but she’d have wagered her most precious jewels he’d been telling the truth. Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of the notion. Of course he couldn’t be an ex-convict, he was too refined, too suave and confident among the ton. And he was staying with Lady Winston, who might be a little unconventional, but she wouldn’t accept a common criminal into her home.
‘Please excuse me,’ he said with a bow. ‘I see my good friend Mr Crawford is trying to get my attention.’
As he stepped away, Caroline leaned in and whispered so quietly only Georgina could hear, ‘He can’t keep his eyes off you.’
Chapter Fourteen
Dinner had been uneventful. Sat at the very bottom of the table, next to a pleasant-looking but empty-headed young debutante, Sam had conversed about the weather, the decor of the room and the food, and by the end of the meal would have gladly given his right hand to escape the twittering attentions of Miss Lovett.
He’d steadfastly tried to ignore Georgina. She’d been seated near the head of the table next to the Duke, of course, with another eligible gentleman flanking her other side. Once or twice he’d caught her staring pensively in his direction, not trying to catch his eye exactly, but looking him over as if trying to figure something out.
He knew exactly what. His comment about the convict ship had, of course, been meant to be viewed as a joke, but now he could see it had been a dangerous comment to make. As soon as the words had left his mouth he’d seen Lady Georgina’s eyes narrow as if she were probing for any truth. Now she might not entirely believe he was an ex-convict, but the seed had been planted, which wasn’t what he’d planned at all.
The Earl, the man he should be focusing his attention on, was seated at the very head of the table, far too far away to hear what he’d been conversing about. As he watched the older man Sam felt his resolve hardening even more. Eighteen years ago this man had ripped him from his family and condemned him to a life of hard labour and harsh conditions. Then he’d gone back to his normal life and most likely completely forgotten the boy he’d been so cruel to. Even just destroying his reputation, and the chance of succeeding in his political aspirations, didn’t seem harsh enough punishment, but at least it would be a good start.
‘Come for a drink,’ Lord Westchester said, clapping him on the back as they rose from dinner, the ladies making their way out of the dining room first. The gentlemen were split, with a couple following the Earl to his private study and a few staying in the dining room where cigars and whisky had already been provided.
They were seated around the roaring fire, built up with thick logs to keep out the winter chill, but even in the comfortable armchairs with a fine whisky in his hand Sam found it hard to relax. He was conscious he was in the enemy’s lair and felt as though he would be exposed any moment, but so far no one had called him out as an imposter.
‘Confounded dinner parties,’ the Earl said with a scowl as he flopped into the free armchair closest to the fire. ‘Lady Westchester insisted on the whole weekend. Waste of time if you ask me.’
‘I thought the idea was for Lady Georgina to find a husband,’ Sam said mildly.
‘Girl has been dragging her feet for far too long,’ Lord Westchester said. ‘I’m determined the matter will be settled by Monday. But there would have been less invasive ways to go about it.’
Sam glanced at the Duke and Lord Rosenhall, the two other gentlemen invited into the Earl’s private study. They didn’t seem perturbed by the conversation and Sam wondered not for the first time at how unemotional everyone seemed to be around the subject of marriage. To the men in this room, and even to Lady Georgina, it was a business transaction. There was no consideration of love or compatibility, not really. It was all about who would make the best ally to the family.
Thinking back to when he was young he remembered his parents’ marriage. They’d never been rich, but had always had enough to survive on, and more importantly they’d truly cared for one another. They’d been happy and in love and that love had filtered down to Sam and his sisters, giving them a happy home to grow up in.
He’d never thought much about marriage. For so long his existence had been bleak that even now, after years of being a successful and free man, sometimes he doubted his good fortune could continue. He knew he had also always shuttered his heart, wary of getting too close to anyone after losing his family at such a young age.
Until now.
Shaking his head ruefully, he dismissed the image of Lady Georgina, lips parted, eyes closed, just inviting him in. Not only was the whole idea of this weekend to find her a suitable husband, once she found out about his history with her father he doubted she would want anything to do with him.
Still, a man was allowed to dream. And his dreams had been particularly vivid and particularly uncomfortable these past few weeks.
‘My wife has organised a hunt for tomorrow,’ Lord Westchester said, turning his attention to Sam. ‘I understand the ladies will be occupied with some other activity. After will be a good time to discuss your propositions in more detail.’
‘Of course, my lord,’ Sam said.
‘I had thought to discuss it tonight, but the travelling has exhausted me,’ the Earl said. ‘I will not be able to give you my full attention and the benefit of my years of experience working with the Whig party.’
‘I’m just grateful for your guidance,’ Sam said, even managing a smile. ‘You have been a most generous host already. I think I will retire myself so as to be fresh for the morning.’
He stood, inclined his head to the other men, and left the room, heading back upstairs to his bedroom. Sam felt Lord Rosenhall’s eyes on him as he departed. The Viscount, like many of the other guests, had watched him and Ben Crawford warily throughout dinner. With his sideways glances and none-too-subtle sneers he’d made it clear what he thought of two untitled, unknown men socialising within their circle. Sam had made a point of clapping him on the back on a few occasions just to make the man more uncomfortable. He didn
’t have time for people who were so shallow as to only judge a man for their ancestry.
* * *
Two hours later and the house had finally fallen quiet, the guests settled in their bedrooms after the dinner and drinks that followed. Sam sat on the windowsill, looking out over the gardens, wondering how best to approach the servants and enact the next step of his plan. He wanted to gather his evidence as quickly as possible—the house party only lasted three days and he didn’t want to hang around too much afterwards. Being back in Hampshire was just dredging up old and painful memories.
As he looked out over the frosty gardens he saw a flash of colour, even in the darkness. The moon was out illuminating the sky and as he peered down he saw the figure of a woman walking slowly over the grass. Immediately he knew it was Lady Georgina. The way she walked, the way she held herself—over the last few weeks it was as if he’d memorised every little characteristic and could identify her now from the shortest glimpse.
Before he could think through the consequences of what he was about to do, he found himself halfway across the room, picking up his coat on the way.
Outside he had to hunch his shoulders against the cold and quickly strode across the grass, following the direction he’d seen Lady Georgina disappear off into. He saw her a couple of minutes later, sat on a small, decorative bench staring up at the sky.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ he said quietly, trying not to alarm her.
Slowly she turned to him and he saw the tears on her cheeks glistening in the moonlight.
‘Georgina,’ he said, taking a step forward before hesitating. She motioned for him to come and sit at her side.