by Laura Martin
They were far enough away from the house so that anyone looking out the windows wouldn’t see them, so he took a seat next to her, feeling the warmth of her body despite the many layers she’d wrapped herself in.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she said softly.
‘Nor should you. You should be tucked up in bed.’
‘No, I mean you shouldn’t be here in Hampshire. It makes everything harder.’
He knew exactly what she meant. ‘I’m sorry. When your father invited me, I couldn’t find it in myself to say no.’
‘I have to choose one of these men to marry.’
‘I know.’
‘And all I keep seeing is you.’
‘I’m sorry.’
She turned to face him again and the despair he saw in her eyes was heartbreaking.
‘I’ve never minded,’ Georgina said after a long pause, ‘the idea of marrying someone I barely know. It’s what I’ve been brought up to expect and my father has allowed me to turn down quite a few proposals.’
‘But now it’s actually happening you feel hemmed in?’ Sam asked.
‘I wouldn’t have...’ She trailed off miserably. He knew their closeness over the past few weeks was making the inevitable harder for her. The whole situation was a mess. He wanted her badly, wanted to kiss her and comfort her and make her his own, but he needed to focus. For eighteen years he’d dreamed about getting revenge on the Earl, he couldn’t allow himself to become distracted by Georgina. Although if he were honest he was already distracted.
He wanted to wipe away the tears on her cheeks and pull her into his arms, but he knew that would only make things worse. Already he was the reason she was so reluctant to choose one of her perfectly decent suitors as a husband. He couldn’t ever give her anything more than heartbreak, but still he wanted to kiss her.
‘I’d never kissed anyone before you,’ she said quietly.
‘I’m no good for you,’ Sam said quietly. ‘I’m not of your world, not the kind of man the daughter of an earl can be with.’
‘I know.’
Leaning forward, he raised a hand and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks, feeling the velvety-soft skin under his fingertips. Even once the tears were gone he lingered, unable to pull his hand away, instead cupping her cheek.
‘Tell me something that will make this easier,’ she said quietly.
‘The rumours are true.’ Sam felt the words slip out before he could think through what he was saying.
‘The rumours?’
‘About my origins.’
‘You’re a convict? I don’t believe you.’
‘It’s true. A very long time ago I was sent to Australia as a convicted criminal. I served the first two years of my sentence on a ship on the Thames and the rest in Australia where I was lucky enough to be taken in by a kind man and his family. He showed me there was still some good in the world and gave me the tools to become the man I am today.’
‘And who is that man?’
‘As I told you before, I’m a wealthy landowner, I own and run the largest stud in Australia and I’m well respected among both the freedmen and the settlers. All of that was true.’
‘What did you do?’ Georgina asked quietly.
‘Would you believe me if I said nothing?’
She studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his face. ‘Nothing?’
‘I was accused of stealing.’
‘And that was enough to have you transported?’
‘It was a very wealthy and influential man who did the accusing. I was nothing, a nobody. Even though there was no hard evidence against me, this man’s word was enough.’
‘He believed you did it?’
Sam hesitated. He wasn’t entirely sure of the answer to the question. It was something that had been niggling away in his subconscious for more years than he cared to remember.
‘I don’t know. I’ve always wondered...’ He shook his head. It was more than just wondering. In the first few weeks after his conviction Sam had believed it was a genuine mistake. The Earl had seen the jewellery was missing and honed in on a boy he didn’t know and didn’t trust. But as time went on Sam had begun to doubt this version of events. Lord Westchester had been so firm in his accusation, so damning, that Sam had wondered if he had chosen a young boy with no connections and no one to stand up for him as a scapegoat. That was when his true desire for retribution had reared its head. A mistake was one thing, but to deliberately condemn a young boy of ten was just evil.
As time went on he’d begun to believe more and more that it had been a deliberate set-up. Oh, no doubt the jewellery had been stolen, but he believed the Earl had deliberately protected the real thief by accusing Sam. He remembered the calculating looks Lord Westchester had given him, the dismissive attitude when Sam had begged him to look for the true thief. Over the years he’d wondered if Lord Westchester had accused him to protect one of the maids he’d had a dalliance with, perhaps one who thought she deserved some kind of payment for the service she’d provided. He had absolutely no way of knowing if this was the case, but it was the only thing that made sense in his mind.
‘And you were convicted on just his word?’ Georgina asked.
‘Indeed. I had no one to stand up for me. My father had passed away, my mother was a mere servant. His word was good enough for the magistrate.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Ten.’
Georgina gasped and a hand flew to her mouth in shock. ‘You were a child.’
‘Not for long,’ Sam said grimly.
Up until the conviction he had been protected from some of the harsher realities of day-to-day life by his mother, but as soon as he was arrested he’d been entirely alone. He’d grown up fast out of necessity.
‘What sentence did you get?’
‘Six years for stealing. Initially I thought it would be served here in England and I was able to fool myself that six years wasn’t the end of the world. I’d be free by the age of sixteen, I could return to my family, perhaps build a life for myself.’
‘But they transported you?’
‘I didn’t even realise what was happening, I didn’t understand the sentence. It was only when they placed me on one of the hulk ships that my fate truly sunk in.’
‘And your family?’
Shaking his head, Sam took a moment before replying. ‘My mother and two sisters contracted a fever before my ship left for Australia. After I was arrested I never saw them again.’
Georgina slipped her hand into his and squeezed it tightly. ‘That’s awful. Truly awful. I’m surprised you ever wanted to return to England.’
Rallying, Sam turned to her and gave a small smile. ‘Sometimes you have to put old ghosts to rest before you can move on with your life. I found myself ruminating about the past far too often—the only solution was to see if I could lay it to rest.’
‘And that’s why you returned here?’
He wasn’t about to admit his main motivation was revenge.
‘I wanted to see my childhood home again, visit my parents’ and sisters’ graves. Try to remember the happier times instead of letting everything be overshadowed by what came next.’
‘Then you’ll return to Australia?’ Her voice was flat as she asked the question.
‘Yes.’ There was no point in lying. He didn’t have anything keeping him in England, only a woman he could never have and bitter memories.
‘And I’ll be married.’
They sat in silence for a long time until Sam realised she was shivering beside him. Without thinking he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in closer to his body. She resisted, but only for a fraction of a second, and then her chest was pressed against his, her cheek nestled in the hollow of his neck.
‘The Duke seems a good man,’ Sam said qu
ietly.
‘Don’t.’
He nodded. It wasn’t his place.
Suddenly Georgina sat up, her eyes searching for his. ‘You were born in Hampshire,’ she said. ‘That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?’
Not trusting himself to answer, he allowed her to continue.
‘I thought it was strange, tricking my father into inviting you down here, but it is so you could have an excuse to visit the area, isn’t it? To see your old home.’
‘Yes.’ It was easier her thinking that than the truth: he was trying to ruin her father, to show the world what an immoral old hypocrite the Earl truly was.
‘Your home is close to here?’
‘I grew up in a village called Little Abington.’
‘I know it. It’s only four miles away.’
‘That close?’ Sam knew exactly how close it was. It had taken him and his mother a little over an hour to walk the distance between their humble home and the Westchester estate.
‘We could...’ Georgina trailed off. ‘I don’t want to intrude, but I could accompany you if you would like to visit.’
‘I’m not sure your mother would approve.’
The mischievous smile on her face made her look like a naughty little imp and Sam had to hold himself back to stop the almost overwhelming urge he had to kiss her.
‘I’ve been sneaking out of the house under Mother’s nose for more years than I care to remember,’ Georgina said. ‘I’m sure a little trip could be arranged.’
‘With all your suitors here?’
She waved a dismissive hand. ‘As you said, the Duke seems perfectly decent. And if he doesn’t offer for me I can always fall back on Lord Rosenhall.’
‘With the meddling mother?’ Sam asked, remembering Georgina’s comments about her suitors from a few weeks earlier.
‘I’ve already got one meddling mother, I’m sure I can cope with a second.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘Mount up, gentlemen,’ the Earl called, already astride a huge horse that was stomping a hoof with impatience.
Sam looked around at his fellow guests, none of them looking too keen to be out at such an hour in the freezing temperatures. It was not yet ten, but the Earl had insisted on an early start time and, being their host, no one had dared to suggest to him he might like to make it later. Overnight a thin sprinkling of snow had fallen, not enough to cover the landscape entirely, but the ground was hard and unforgiving, and potential dangerous ruts in the earth were concealed, making the ride more dangerous.
For Sam the whipping, icy wind took him back to his childhood and he tried to work out how many years it had been since he’d seen snow.
‘My daughter the intrepid rider,’ the Earl called as Georgina rounded the corner on her beautiful grey horse, although all eyes were drawn to the majestic figure she cut in her royal-red riding habit. Sam had no doubt Lady Westchester had agreed to the hunt solely in order that the assembled suitors would see what a fine rider Georgina was and because she looked so damn attractive in a riding habit.
Only two other young women had decided to join them: Georgina’s friend Miss Yaxley, who was fidgeting astride a frisky bay mare, and a Miss Farley, a young woman who had an unfortunately large nose on an otherwise pretty face and who Sam had been informed did not have the dowry to make up for this small shortcoming.
‘Tell me,’ Crawford said, manoeuvring his horse so he could be heard only by Sam, ‘is the whole point of this actually to chase a fox?’
‘Apparently so.’
‘Seems a bit barbaric.’
‘Chasing a poor defenceless animal and then watching it get torn apart by dogs?’ Miss Yaxley said, inserting herself into their conversation. ‘That’s why I always root for the fox.’
‘I can’t really see the sport in it,’ Sam murmured.
‘One of the reasons I always insist on riding out,’ Miss Yaxley confided quietly. ‘I find my inferior female riding skills sometimes slows down the pace of the hunt, meaning it can give the fox chance to make his escape.’
‘Commendable,’ Crawford said.
‘And how about you, Lady Georgina?’ Sam asked as Georgina came to join them. ‘What are your views on the hunt?’
‘Horrible,’ she said decisively. ‘But Father will not be discouraged.’
As they spoke the barking of the dogs got louder and more frantic as if they sensed the hunt was about to begin. With a great flourish Lord Westchester called the assembled guests to attention before the horn was blown and the hunt underway. There was a hint of bloodlust in some of the men’s eyes as they raced off after the dogs, the thundering of hooves and wild barking just seeming to rile them up further.
Sam glanced at Crawford, shrugged and spurred his horse on, following the rest of the men out of the courtyard and on to the estate. They’d only ridden perhaps less than half a mile when the first horse stumbled. It was being ridden by Lord Rosenhall, one of the men Georgina seemed to be seriously considering as a future husband, despite his overbearing mother. The horses had followed the dogs into a dense patch of wood and Lord Rosenhall had misjudged the width of a stream. The water had frozen solid in the freezing temperatures and the horse’s hooves had scrabbled for purchase, but ultimately the animal had slipped and fallen.
Lord Rosenhall had been about halfway back from the front of the hunt and all the riders ahead of him had carried on oblivious to the slip, too intent on following the frenzied dogs who had caught the scent of a fox a few minutes previously.
Sam vaulted down from his horse and flung the reins to Crawford. They’d ridden together so many times he didn’t even need to look back to know his friend had caught them before he slowly approached the frozen stream and the distressed animal.
Lord Rosenhall had been thrown, but unfortunately not far enough to be clear of the horse, and one leg was trapped under the animal’s flank. He was groaning in pain as the horse repeatedly tried to stand on the slippery surface and each time slid a bit farther backwards.
‘Hush,’ Sam said, edging his way on to the frozen surface, cautiously stepping towards the fear-stricken man and animal. Gently he laid a hand on the horse’s nose and began muttering soothing sounds. In the course of his work he often had to calm scared or wild horses, and he found a firm but gentle approach the best. ‘Let’s see if we can get you out of here,’ he said.
Lord Rosenhall had fallen quiet and Sam spared him a glance to check the man was still alive. His face was screwed up in pain and deathly white, but the man seemed to be trying to follow Sam’s lead and keep quiet so he didn’t spook the horse any further.
Quickly Sam looked around, trying to find a safe path for the animal. A little to their left the stream turned a corner and there was a slightly shallower bank. The ice was still slippery, but it was worth a try.
‘You take the horse, I’ll take the man,’ Crawford said from over his shoulder. Sam nodded and gently began to coax the horse upright again, guiding it towards the shallower bank. He heard a loud groan as Lord Rosenhall was freed, but didn’t look back, trusting Crawford had everything under control.
After thirty seconds the horse was up the bank, stomping and snorting, but with no obvious injuries. Only then did Sam turn back to see what damage Lord Rosenhall had sustained.
Sam had been thrown from horseback more times than he cared to remember. It was a hazard of the job when you ran a stud. Once he’d broken his arm, an agonising injury that had kept him from riding for near on six weeks. On the other occasions he’d been lucky, knowing when to fall and roll and when to grimly cling on and try to make for softer ground. He knew how dangerous horses could be; they outweighed their riders several times over and could kill instantly if a hoof met with the wrong part of a man’s body.
Lord Rosenhall was pale and drawn, unable to support himself entirely and clinging on to Crawford grimly, his
face drawn with pain.
‘I’ll take him back,’ Crawford called. ‘You see to the horse?’
Sam watched as Crawford, Miss Yaxley and Miss Farley, who had also been at the rear of the hunt, prepared to return to Westchester Place. Georgina hesitated, hanging back as Lord Rosenhall was boosted on to the front of Crawford’s horse and the party retraced their steps.
‘I probably should inform my father of what happened,’ she said, her eyes wide as she approached him.
‘No,’ he said, catching her hand. ‘You’re not riding anywhere on your own with the conditions like they are.’
‘I’ve ridden in the snow plenty of times.’
‘Then more fool you. Icy surfaces and uneven terrain can unseat even the most proficient rider.’
He felt a pang of panic at the idea of Georgina being the one thrown from her horse, stuck under the beast as it panicked and kicked.
‘You think I’m a proficient rider,’ she said, a faint smile on her lips.
‘You have some talent,’ he said.
‘A compliment indeed coming from the only horseman in Australia.’
‘Do you need help to mount, Lady Georgina?’
‘A few weeks ago you called me Georgina.’
‘A few weeks ago you kissed me,’ Sam said.
Her cheeks pinkened at the memory and he wondered how bad the consequences would be if he just gave in and kissed her again.
‘Is that the price?’ she asked. ‘A kiss and in return you’ll call me by my name.’
‘A fair trade.’
If she’d leaned in then, he would have been powerless to stop himself, but she stood exactly where she was, biting her lip and looking like the most beautiful woman in the world. It was beyond foolish, this notion that anything could happen between them, but right now Sam wasn’t thinking about the future. He wasn’t thinking about his plans to seek revenge on her father or her impending nuptials with some yet undecided suitable gentleman. All he was thinking about was her lips, her body, the way her skin felt under his fingertips.
‘Georgina,’ he murmured, stepping forward. She smiled at him and not for the first time he wondered if he should just give up the idea of avenging his younger self and find a way to make her his. Not just for a day or a week, but for ever. It was a tempting thought, but unrealistic.