Courting the Forbidden Debutante

by Laura Martin

  ‘I can’t remember, this all must have been twenty years ago. Why do you bring it up now?’

  ‘Why were you so sure the boy was guilty?’ Sam pressed on, ignoring the Earl’s question.

  ‘As I said it was a long time ago and a matter for the magistrates, not me. I didn’t determine the child’s guilt or innocence and I didn’t sentence the boy.’

  The Earl was being just a little too dismissive. The disappearance of expensive jewellery was not a matter easily forgotten, even eighteen years on.

  ‘But you did. It was your insistence that condemned him. Your influence that meant his sentence was particularly harsh.’

  ‘What’s your interest in the boy?’ Lord Westchester asked, his voice much less friendly than it had been a few minutes earlier. ‘What does it matter to you what happened to some little ragamuffin twenty years ago.’

  ‘Eighteen years, four months, eight days,’ Sam corrected quietly.

  Lord Westchester frowned in confusion.

  ‘That’s how long ago you falsely accused me of stealing your wife’s emeralds, gave an untrue statement to the magistrate, and lobbied for me to be transported for the crime.’

  Sam studied the other man’s face, seeing first disbelief, then anger and then a cold, calculating look. This was the true character of Lord Westchester coming through.

  ‘Get out,’ the Earl hissed. ‘Get out of my house.’

  Sam sat completely still as Lord Westchester levered himself from his chair and towered over him. It might have been a move that intimidated him eighteen years ago, but now he saw the Earl for what he really was: a cruel and immoral bully. Raising an eyebrow, he stared the older man down. Now he was going to get answers.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Sam said calmly. ‘Sit down and answer my questions.’

  ‘If you think...’

  ‘You forget what I saw you up to this afternoon. If that gets out your political campaign will be over and Mr Moorcroft will fall with you. Your influence, your chance to have the ear of the next Prime Minister, will be over.’

  ‘No one will believe you, a criminal from a family of servants.’

  Sam smiled, beginning to enjoy himself. ‘Perhaps, perhaps not. But you know the power of rumour in politics.’

  ‘I will not be blackmailed.’

  ‘Sit down,’ Sam commanded again, this time his voice ultimately authoritative. ‘All I want is answers. And if you don’t give me what I want I have a lot of free time to dedicate to ruining your reputation as a moral and upstanding family man. I will find all the maids you’ve ever pawed and subjected to your sweaty attentions and I will persuade them to come forward and tell the world what you expect of a pretty young thing working in your house.’

  ‘You wouldn’t.’

  ‘I would. I will, unless you tell me the truth. And I have all the time and plenty of money to dedicate to ruining the reputation that is so important in politics.’ Sam paused, checking he had got his point across. Slowly the Earl sat down in his chair, a look of defeat momentarily on his face. Sam knew it wouldn’t last. Men of Lord Westchester’s status could not be kept down for long. Their self-confidence had been bred into them and reinforced by decades of knowing they were at the very top of the food chain.

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘You set me up,’ Sam stated. ‘I didn’t steal your wife’s emeralds and you knew it at the time. Why did you blame me?’

  The Earl shrugged, refusing to look contrite even as he was confessing to ruining Sam’s young life. ‘It was convenient,’ he said simply.

  ‘Convenient?’

  ‘I was foolish enough to get caught up with one of the young housemaids. She found herself in some difficulty and when I refused to give her the money she desired to start afresh, she made off with Lady Westchester’s emeralds. My wife discovered the theft before I had time to replace the necklace, so I had to find a plausible scapegoat.’

  ‘You ruined my life because you were too mean to pay off the woman who was pregnant with your child?’

  ‘I didn’t like being threatened,’ the Earl said pointedly. ‘If she’d just asked for the money...but she demanded it, said she would tell my wife if not.’

  ‘I could have been hanged.’

  ‘Unlikely. A young boy and a first offence.’

  Unlikely but not impossible.

  ‘Did you feel any remorse?’

  The Earl sighed. ‘If you want the complete truth, I never gave you another thought once you were in the hands of the magistrate.’

  Sam felt slightly sick. His life had meant nothing to the Earl. He’d been chosen to be a scapegoat so Lord Westchester could keep another one of his tawdry affairs secret from his wife and then, once out of the way, he’d been promptly forgotten about.

  ‘Now is there anything else?’

  All in all their conversation had lasted less than five minutes. This had been the moment Sam had been building up to for so long and now it seemed like a complete anti-climax. For years he’d fantasised about confronting the Earl, about dragging a confession, and perhaps even some remorse, out of him and now it was over. Sam had expected to feel different, for the confrontation to have changed his life somehow, but he was still the same man with the same history.

  None of it mattered, he realised, not any more. Yes, the Earl had ruined his life, ripped him away from his family all those years ago, a family he would never see again. That mattered, of course, but getting this selfish oaf of a man to feel any remorse, that didn’t matter. Nor did his idea of revenge. Sam had flourished since finishing his sentence; he was a successful man running a successful business surrounded by good friends. And he’d been obsessing about the past instead of focusing on what he was blessed with in the present.

  ‘Nothing else,’ Sam said, standing. Suddenly he didn’t want to be in the same country, let alone the same room as this man any longer.

  ‘And you will keep quiet about my little indiscretion?’ the Earl asked. ‘It was a gentleman’s agreement after all.’ Sam would give up on his plan to reveal the Earl as a womanising cheater and ruin his political aspirations, but it wasn’t because of any agreement—it was purely for Georgina. The woman he loved. Eighteen years he’d spent plotting the Earl’s public shaming and now it didn’t seem important any longer. He had the chance at true happiness and that meant letting go of all the bitterness and focusing on the woman who’d made him see there were some things more important than old grudges.

  ‘You forget, Lord Westchester, I’m no gentleman.’

  Striding out of the room before the Earl could say another word, Sam found himself smiling. It was time to put the past behind him and focus on the future. And that future included Lady Georgina.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Feeling the tears streaming down her cheeks, Georgina stifled a sob. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to claw the noise back in, all the time conscious that her father sat in his study a few feet away with the adjoining door open half an inch. As well as she could hear everything that had gone on between Sam and her father, he would be able to hear her if she made too much noise.

  She couldn’t bear to face her father after everything she’d heard. It was almost inconceivable he’d behaved in the way he had, accusing an innocent young boy just to protect his own reputation. And taking advantage of the maids, young women who would find it hard to say no, that was downright disgusting. It was as if she didn’t know her father at all.

  As if in a trance Georgina stood and crept out of the library, all the time wondering if she would make it to the privacy of her bedroom before collapsing. Her heart was breaking, she had a ripping pain in her chest and her head was swimming.

  And Sam had used her. The man she had been about to give everything up for had used her. That first night a few months ago when he’d sought her out in the ballroo
m he’d been planning this all along, she realised. She’d merely been a way to get close to her father, nothing more, and she’d convinced herself he loved her.

  Georgina made it to her bedroom before collapsing onto the bed. She squeezed her eyes tightly together and tried to slow her breathing. Wave after wave of nausea washed over her body as a new thought spiralled out of control in her mind. Was she Sam’s way of getting revenge on her father?

  Her father—the man she’d loved unconditionally despite his often abrupt manner and temper that could be quick to anger. She couldn’t believe everything she’d heard about him, couldn’t believe that he had done something as terrible as he’d just confessed. Without any remorse he’d ruined a young boy’s life, all so his sordid little affair wouldn’t become public. She wondered if her mother knew about her father’s dalliances with the maids. The thought made her sick.

  Burying her face in her pillow, she couldn’t stop thinking about Sam—she raked over every look, every touch, every kiss. Surely it hadn’t all been a lie. He was a smooth and charming man, but she’d really believed the smouldering looks and the honeyed words had come straight from his heart. Never had she imagined she was nothing more than a way to get revenge on her father. She didn’t know if he’d set out to ruin her, to make her fall in love with him and give up her virtue before exposing her and humiliating her father at the same time, or if she’d just made it too hard for him to resist when she offered herself so wantonly.

  She looked up as there was a soft knock on the door. Swallowing back some of the tears, she stayed completely silent. She didn’t want a visitor, no matter who it was.

  ‘Georgina,’ Sam’s voice whispered through the thick wood.

  Slowly she saw the door handle turn and she fought to remember if she had clicked the lock when she’d first entered the room. As the door opened a crack she felt her heart sink. She didn’t want to see Sam now, she didn’t want to see him ever again.

  ‘Go away,’ she hissed as he stepped quietly into the room.

  He stiffened, obviously surprised to see her there at all when she hadn’t answered his knock.

  ‘Go away,’ she repeated, hearing the venom in her voice.

  ‘Georgina. What’s happened?’ Sam asked, closing the door softly behind him and crossing the room in a few long strides.

  ‘Leave me alone. You’ve done enough.’

  He shook his head and moved closer still, sitting on the edge of her bed and placing an arm around her shoulder. Quickly she shrugged him off and shifted away.

  ‘What’s wrong, talk to me?’

  Suddenly she felt all the humiliation and anger bubbling up inside her and fighting to get free.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, hearing the hysterical tone to her voice. ‘I loved you, Sam. I actually loved you. What a fool I am.’

  She saw the confusion on his face and saw him open his mouth, but realised she didn’t want him to explain. Her heart couldn’t be trusted; she’d fallen for him once and she was determined not to let herself succumb again.

  ‘I know everything,’ she said. ‘I heard you and my father.’

  As the look of panic crossed his features she realised she’d still been hoping she had somehow got it all wrong. The guilt on Sam’s face told her she did not.

  ‘You don’t understand...’ Sam said.

  Georgina felt herself harden. ‘What don’t I understand? That you only pursued an acquaintance with me to get close to my father, that every word that came out of your mouth was a lie? That I gave every part of myself to you and none of it was real?’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  She looked at him and felt herself soften momentarily at the pained look on his face. She knew he had suffered terribly all because of her father and in some ways could understand his desire for revenge, but she couldn’t forgive the fact that he’d used her to get closer to that goal. She reminded herself this was a man practised in deceit, he’d fooled her for two months, but she couldn’t let him fool her again.

  ‘It was real,’ Sam said quietly. ‘Every touch, every kiss. Every whispered word.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. I heard what you said to my father.’

  Sam reached out to touch her, but she shrugged him off.

  ‘I admit I did seek you out initially to find out more about your father,’ Sam said, his fingers resting just a fraction of an inch from hers. ‘He ruined my life, Georgina. I was convinced I needed to confront him, to make him suffer, to punish him for what he did to me.’

  Angrily she wiped the tears from her cheeks again. She would not cry any more for this man.

  ‘So you thought you would seduce his daughter, ruin me and humiliate him in the process?’

  ‘No,’ he said vehemently. Firmly he gripped her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. Georgina had no option but to look him in the eye. ‘No,’ he repeated, quieter this time, ‘that was never my plan, never my intention.’

  But he’d done it all the same.

  ‘I just wanted to get close to him, find an opportunity to confront him.’

  ‘Well, you’ve had it so you can go now.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  She looked up again and felt the tears start rolling down her cheeks again. ‘You’re still looking for a way to humiliate him.’

  ‘No. I couldn’t care less about your father or what he did to me all those years ago...’ He paused. ‘All I care about is you.’

  For a moment she felt her heart soar before she pulled it back to reality. She couldn’t trust a word that was coming out of Sam’s mouth. She didn’t know him, not the real him, and she couldn’t let herself be deceived again.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said, her voice hard and her expression unwavering.

  ‘I love you, Georgina.’

  She’d been wanting to hear those words for days and now they meant nothing.

  ‘I love you, Georgina.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  He took her face in his hands and she felt the irresistible pull she always felt when she was around him.

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘Stop saying that.’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Leave me alone, Sam.’

  ‘Never.’

  He caught her hand in his own and held it tight, refusing to let her pull away. Only once she looked up into those irresistible blue eyes did he let their hands drop.

  ‘I wanted to get close to your father,’ he said, ‘but that was before I got to know you. The last few weeks, all that we’ve shared, that’s been real.’

  Georgina found herself believing him. You couldn’t fake the way he looked at her, couldn’t fake how his eyes lit up when she entered a room.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Sam,’ she said more softly. ‘I can’t trust you. And I can’t give up my whole life for a man I don’t trust.’

  He held her gaze for well over a minute and in that time Georgina felt her heart breaking all over again. Even though she was beyond angry with him she couldn’t help feeling sad, too. This was probably the last time she would ever see him, the last time she would ever set eyes on the only man she would ever love.

  ‘Goodbye, Sam,’ she said when she could bear it no longer.

  Turning so he wouldn’t see her break down completely, she wondered if he would protest further, but ten seconds later she heard the door close quietly behind him.

  Georgina collapsed on the bed, burying her face in her pillows and letting all the pain and hurt flood out of her.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, when there were no more tears left to cry, she crossed to the small writing desk in the corner of the room and took out a sheet of paper. Now probably wasn’t the wisest time to make such a momentous decision, but she needed to draw a line under the episode in her life with Sam Robertson.
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  Your Grace,

  I would like to accept your offer of marriage. Please let me know when would be convenient to talk to my father.

  Yours,

  Lady Georgina

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘I’ve never seen him like this before.’

  ‘He’s barely eaten in a week.’

  ‘He’s like a man possessed.’

  Sam raised his head from the table where it had been resting in his hands and growled, ‘I can hear you. I’m hungover, not deaf.’

  It had been two weeks since he’d returned from the Westchester estate down in Hampshire. Two weeks since he’d last set eyes on Georgina, two weeks since she’d sent him away for ever.

  ‘Here,’ Fitzgerald said, handing him a glass of water. Crawford wasn’t far behind with a plate of warm, buttery toast.

  Mumbling his thanks, Sam tucked in gingerly, unsure if his roiling stomach would be able to keep even just the water down, but after a few bites he was feeling better already.

  ‘Do you remember that thug, Walter Ristwald?’ Crawford asked quietly as he took a seat next to Sam.

  ‘Warthog Walter?’ Sam said through a mouthful of toast. It really was good.

  ‘The very same.’

  Warthog Walter had been an unfortunate-looking man who’d presided over a gang of thugs on the transport ship he and Crawford had travelled to Australia on. Whereas most of the criminals transported were thieves or pickpockets, Walter boasted of more violent crimes. If he was to be believed, he’d raped and murdered his way through half of London. This was unlikely, seeing as he’d escaped the death penalty, but you never knew if a judge had been bribed or cajoled into a lighter sentence.

  ‘And you remember Annie?’

  How could he forget Annie? A sickly little thing, eighteen or nineteen years old, but with the intellect of someone much younger. They’d never found out what crime had resulted in her being on the filthy transport ship, but someone somewhere should have been losing sleep over sending such a poorly equipped girl out into the world to fend for herself.