by Laura Martin
Georgina shook her head. ‘He might have dismissed a ten-year-old boy, but you’re a man of influence now, it would be much harder to dismiss you.’ She paused, throwing him a sideways glance as if trying to assess his reaction. ‘You said he was an influential man—I’m guessing he was at least a member of the gentry. I do know most of those families, as well as the titled ones, of course. Perhaps I could arrange a meeting.’
‘No,’ Sam said quickly and a little too abruptly. He needed to change the subject before Georgina found out the truth. She might act meek and mild for her suitors, but Sam knew she was shrewd and intelligent. He’d have to tread carefully or she would find out their whole acquaintance had been orchestrated to allow him to get close to her father.
Grimacing, he pictured her reaction. It wasn’t pretty. However he imagined it she was hurt and betrayed by his deception and irate that she’d been used in such a way.
For now he pushed these thoughts from his mind. One day soon Georgina would find out about his lies and the idea of losing her was almost too much to bear. But he was so close, so near to achieving his aim. For eighteen long years he’d fantasised about the moment he got to confront the Earl and in some small way have his own revenge. He couldn’t give up now, not even for the woman riding beside him.
‘Today I don’t want to think of him,’ he said quickly. ‘I don’t want him to intrude on the memories of my mother and sisters.’
Next to him he saw Georgina nod and then, coaxing her horse closer to his, she reached across and placed her gloved hand over his.
Chapter Seventeen
Watching him closely, Georgina saw the host of emotions flitting across Sam’s face. Little Abington must have changed considerably in eighteen years, but she could tell Sam was seeing it how it used to be rather than how it was now. He looked past the new houses on the edge of the village, making his way directly to the church that stood proudly in the very centre.
They paused just outside the graveyard, looking over the low stone wall before dismounting.
‘Would you like me to come in?’ she asked. He shook his head, handed her the reins of his horse and pushed open the gate. He only took a couple of steps before stopping. She could see he hadn’t reached any graves yet, instead he looked frozen in place as if unable to continue. Georgina had never lost anyone she was really close to—of course her grandparents had passed away many years earlier and a distant aunt when Georgina was no more than a child—but she’d never had to deal with the loss of a parent or sibling. Looking at Sam’s face, she couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult it must be to lose your entire family.
The seconds ticked by and still he didn’t move. Georgina quietly dismounted, tied both reins to an overhanging branch and stepped into the graveyard. Only once she was by Sam’s side did he look up and notice her.
Throughout their acquaintance Georgina had never known Sam to hesitate, he’d always done exactly what he wanted when he wanted, but right now she could see through the confident public persona to the man underneath.
Gently she slipped her hand into his and felt his fingers curl around her palm. He looked down at her then and she wished she could wash away all the years of hurt and suffering that she could read on his face.
‘Come on,’ she said softly, ‘let’s go together.’
He stepped forward, weaving through the graveyard until he stopped in front of a simple stone with four names engraved on it. Thomas Robertson, Marianne Robertson, Anne Robertson, Betty Robertson. Georgina felt the tears spring to her eyes as she watched Sam crouch down in front of it and place a hand on the top of the gravestone.
For a moment she had to look away, feeling uncontrollably sad for the little boy who had lost his freedom and his entire family within the space of a year. She doubted he’d had much chance to grieve in the early days. If the stories about the hulk ships and the conditions convicted criminals were transported under were to be believed, he would have needed his entire focus to be on surviving.
Wishing she’d brought some flowers to place on the graves, she glanced at the hedgerows, but it was the middle of winter and there were no wildflowers blooming. In a couple of weeks she would return with something cut from the garden.
After a few minutes Sam stood, his face unnaturally stony, but Georgina could see the tears in his eyes.
‘You loved them very much, didn’t you?’ she asked.
‘I did.’
Silently she wrapped her arms around him, feeling his head droop and rest on her shoulder. They stood together for a long time, neither moving, neither saying anything, but Georgina could feel the beating of his heart and rise and fall of his chest which was peculiarly reassuring.
‘Shall we return?’ he asked eventually.
‘Is there anywhere else you’d like to visit?’
He shook his head and Georgina got the impression the memories the visit was raking up were a little too painful. They walked back through the graveyard hand in hand and, before they remounted their horses, Sam turned to her, brushing a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.
‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice low and grave. ‘I don’t think I could have done that without you.’
Not many men of Georgina’s acquaintance would admit such a thing. Without another word he took the reins from her and vaulted up onto the back of his horse.
As they rode Georgina kept stealing little glances at Sam. He was deep in thought, a frown etched on his forehead and his mouth set into a hard line. She could tell he was thinking of the man he thought responsible for ruining his childhood and ultimately causing the deaths of his mother and sisters.
An unfamiliar sensation started to creep over Georgina. She suddenly felt protective of Sam, wanted to take away some of his pain. A part of her wanted to confront the man who had done this to him, to fight for some sort of peace to be restored inside Sam’s mind.
You’re falling for him, the little voice in her head whispered. Georgina tried to banish it. She wouldn’t deny she found him physically attractive and, when he turned to her with those sparkling blue eyes and that beguiling smile, she wanted to throw herself into his arms, but that was physical. On an emotional level they were friends, nothing more. It might be an entirely inappropriate and ill-considered friendship, but a friendship was what it was.
You want him, the voice taunted. Georgina shook her head, trying to get the image of Sam as her husband out of her mind. It was an impossible dream; she had to marry someone respectable, someone rich, someone titled. Someone her parents would approve of. If she didn’t, if she did something foolish and ran off with Sam, then she had no doubt they would disown her. They might love her, but she was under no illusion that she would be cut from her parents’ lives instantly and entirely. Everything she’d ever had, everyone she had ever known, would be wiped away in an instant.
But what if it was worth it? No, she couldn’t think like that. She had to believe that an arranged marriage to a suitable man she did not love that allowed her to keep her friends and family, her position in society, would be better than throwing all that away for one man. Even if she did feel a warmth deep inside her whenever he looked at her.
They arrived back at the main gates and Sam quickly dismounted and took her hand.
‘Thank you,’ he said, squeezing her hand. They both wore thick gloves to protect them from the cold, but Georgina fancied she could still feel his warmth through the layers.
As he looked up into her eyes Georgina felt her heart begin to pound in her chest and she knew, in that instant, that if he asked her to run away with him she would.
Instead he raised her gloved hand to his lips, turned it over, and placed a kiss on the bare skin of her wrist, where the material of her riding habit didn’t quite meet her glove. Before she’d had chance to recover he’d let go of her hand, mounted his horse, and disappeared through the gates and down the w
inding drive, leaving her to enter the estate from a different direction.
* * *
‘Fancy a game?’ Crawford asked, holding up a pack of cards in his hand.
As a rule Sam didn’t ever play cards against Crawford if money was involved; his friend had an unbelievable talent when it came to most card games that left his opponents heavily out of pocket. However, a game where there was no money at stake would be a good way to take his mind off the events of the afternoon.
They were sitting at the little table in Sam’s room, dressed and ready for dinner, but neither of them too keen to rush downstairs to start socialising with their hosts or the rest of the guests.
‘How was it?’ Crawford asked quietly.
‘Pretty damn terrible.’
‘You glad you went?’
Sam shrugged, unable to put into words how it was cathartic to finally see his mother’s and sisters’ resting place, but how it had also been like a dagger to the heart. When he’d first stepped into the graveyard he had frozen and, without Georgina’s intervention, without her reassuring presence by his side, he doubted he would have been able to continue.
Crawford leaned over, clasped him on the shoulder, and squeezed. Over the years the two men had gone through so much together and often, like right now, no words were needed between the two men; it was enough to know that he was there.
‘How much did you tell the lovely Lady Georgina?’ Crawford asked after a few minutes of playing cards in silence.
‘I told her what happened all those years ago, nearly everything except the name of the man who accused me. She suggested she facilitate a meeting with the man who was responsible for everything.’
‘I take it she doesn’t know that was her father.’
Sam shook his head grimly.
‘Sam,’ Crawford said, his voice filled with concern, ‘you know I wouldn’t normally meddle...’
It was true, they were all grown men, all perfectly capable of making their own decisions and their own mistakes. They made it a habit not to interfere in each other’s life decisions, only to be there to support and help if needed.
‘But I’m worried about you. I’m worried about all of this.’
‘It’s just bad memories,’ Sam said.
Crawford shook his head. ‘You’re falling for that girl,’ he said bluntly.
Sam looked up in surprise. He’d expected his friend to start talking about how revenge wasn’t the answer to his problems, how it wouldn’t really change anything, wouldn’t give him the peace he was looking for. All things that Sam had thought himself on the journey over here and the time they’d been in England. Over and over he’d questioned whether it was really worth pursuing the Earl, whether it would solve anything. Deep down he knew even after he confronted the old man nothing would change, not really, but Sam had to do this for himself. For the scared little boy who’d been torn from his family at the age of ten and the mother and sisters he never saw again.
‘Georgina?’ he asked, trying to buy himself some time.
‘You’re falling for her,’ Crawford repeated.
‘I’m not.’
‘Trust me, I know the signs.’ It was true that his friend was rarely without a woman or two as a willing companion, but Sam didn’t think Ben had ever been in love. Surely he would know about it. ‘You can’t stop thinking about her, she invades your dreams, she influences everything you do.’
All those things were true. But it didn’t mean he was in love.
‘What’s going to happen when Lady Georgina finds out you only befriended her to get close to her father?’
Sam stared at the cards in his hand. He’d pondered the same thing over and over again and the answer was simple: she’d never forgive him.
‘Or when you humiliate her father, expose him for the man he is?’
‘She won’t ever speak to me again,’ Sam said quietly.
‘And you’re willing to sacrifice what you have with her for a revenge that won’t even make you feel much better?’
‘I don’t have anything with her,’ Sam murmured. ‘She has to marry someone influential, someone with an impressive title, not a convicted criminal from Australia.’
‘Nonsense,’ Crawford said with a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘She doesn’t have to do anything. You could elope, you could whisk her back to Australia and live a full and happy life with her.’
It was a tempting idea, but one that could never be.
‘I couldn’t ask her to give up everything, to leave everyone she’s ever known behind.’
‘And that, my friend, is love,’ Crawford said quietly.
Closing his eyes, Sam tried to banish the dangerously appealing idea of whisking Georgina away from his mind. He couldn’t do it to her. She’d been born into a life of luxury and privilege. Raised to be a countess or even a duchess, he couldn’t ask her to give that all up to be the wife of an ex-convict in the wilds of Australia.
‘Think about it,’ Crawford said, rising from his seat and placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder for a second. ‘No point you both being unhappy. And once you’ve revealed who you really are and why you’re here, there will be no going back.’
* * *
Sam had stayed sitting in the same place for at least twenty minutes after his friend had left the room, contemplating his words. Crawford was an idealist, despite everything that had happened to him in his life. He sailed through the world, approaching everything with optimism that generally meant he got what he wanted. If this was his dilemma, Sam knew that his friend would abandon all thoughts of revenge and work on ensuring that they would live happily ever after.
Enough, he told himself. Nothing had changed. To think he, a servant’s son who’d been transported for stealing, had a chance with the most eligible young lady in England was laughable. He would do better to stick to his original plan and try to get some closure on the old wounds her father had inflicted on him.
* * *
‘Perhaps you’d care to step outside for some air,’ the Duke said, offering Georgina his arm.
She smiled sweetly, almost politely declining straight away. Up until very recently her policy had been to never step outside alone with a gentleman. She’d only broken the rule twice and that had landed her in this situation where she was being pushed to marry to save her reputation. Then she caught her mother’s expression out of the corner of her eye and remembered that she was meant to be trying to get the Duke to propose.
‘That would be lovely,’ she said.
It was bitterly cold out and Georgina paused before stepping through the glass doors to motion to one of the footmen to fetch her warmest cloak. Only once she was securely wrapped up did she take the Duke’s arm and step out on to the terrace.
‘How are you enjoying the party, your Grace?’ Georgina asked.
‘It is diverting, although a shame about what happened to poor Lord Rosenhall.’
‘Indeed.’ Georgina realised guiltily that she hadn’t spared a thought for the injured lord since visiting him earlier in the afternoon.
‘It’s cold, Lady Georgina,’ the Duke said, turning to face her, ‘so I will get straight to the matter in hand.’
Georgina’s heart plummeted. She’d received enough marriage proposals to know when a man was about to ask for her hand.
‘I find myself approaching forty and my life is not what I expected it to be. I have my estates, my political commitments, and, of course, the title, but I had always imagined having a family by now. A wife to share my life with and children to carry on the family name.’
This was exactly what she should want. To be the wife of a duke was an honour and she knew almost every other single young woman of her acquaintance would be jumping with joy at the direction of this conversation. Instead she found herself wanting to run away before he could say any more.
‘We do not know each other well, of course, but over our last few meetings I have got the impression that we would suit one another...’ He paused, searching her face as if looking for confirmation. ‘That is, as long as you do not have your eye on someone else.’
She glanced up sharply, wondering if he had heard the rumours about her and Sam.
‘I like you, Lady Georgina, and I’m sure I could give you a happy life, a contented life.’ He picked up her hand and kissed her lightly across the knuckles. Georgina smiled weakly. He was right, he probably could give her a contented life. With his fortune and title she would want for nothing and her first-born son would be the next Duke.
‘Take a day or two, consider my proposal,’ he said with an indulgent smile. ‘I want you to be sure in your decision. If you agree, we can approach your father at the end of the weekend.’
Unable to trust her own voice, Georgina nodded. If her mother were here she’d be pushing Georgina to accept immediately—he was a duke, after all. And she probably would accept him, but she needed a little time first, time to come to terms with the fact that she would be marrying a man she did not love when there was a man she was starting to fall for staying in the same house. She would be choosing wealth and status over love and she needed at least a couple more days to fully accept that.
Chapter Eighteen
Throughout dinner he’d found himself staring at Georgina time and time again. It was ill advised, he knew that, and the direction of his attention had earned him some black looks from Lady Westchester, who’d spent most of the meal staring at him.
He’d planned to make a speedy exit and retire to his room straight after the meal, but Lord Westchester had gripped him by the arm and guided him towards the older man’s study. Two hours Sam had listened to him sermonising on the immorality of the poor, two hours of clenching his teeth and biting his tongue. Throughout his mind kept wandering, kept trying to escape the toxic opinions, but the Earl didn’t seem to notice. He had his captive audience and that was all he cared about. On more than one occasion Sam had been sorely tempted to ask about the poor maids the Earl had pushed himself upon, whether they would agree that Lord Westchester had an upstanding and moral character.