arm. ‘Mr Praxton, don’t worry so. This gentleman means to help us and I believe his actions to be nothing but honourable.’ Turning to Nathaniel, he said by way of explanation, ‘Mr Praxton has a great fondness for my daughter and is concerned for her.’ Then, as if catching himself, ‘Please forgive my manners. These are my friends, Mr Walter Praxton and Mr Julian Battersby-Brown.’
Nathaniel acknowledged the introduction with a quick nod of his head. ‘Nathaniel Hawke, sir.’ He looked directly at Mr Praxton. ‘Viscount Farleigh is my brother.’
‘Lord Hawke!’ Mr Battersby-Brown uttered with reverence.
‘Please excuse me, gentlemen. I’ve an inclination to change my clothing.’ And with that he made off into the distance with some considerable speed.
Georgiana awoke to find herself tucked firmly into a vast four-poster bed. A fire leapt in the hearth and the room was quiet save for the crackles and spits that emitted from its warm golden flames. She remembered her arrival at the house with the fine young gentleman, but thereafter nothing. She wrinkled her brow in concentrated effort, but there was nothing except a haziness to recall. Sitting up, she became aware of the luxurious nightgown draped against her skin and that her hair was now dry, but tumbled around her shoulders. Just as her toes contacted the floor the door positioned in the far corner of the room swung open. In waltzed a petite lady wearing a fashionable dress of blue muslin.
‘Miss Raithwaite, you’re awake. Are you feeling better?’ Without waiting for an answer, the woman wafted towards her in a cloud of fragrant lavender. Her lively cornflower-blue eyes dropped to where the tips of Georgiana’s toes touched upon the carpet. ‘My dearest girl, what can you be thinking of? You must not attempt to get up just now. Doctor Boyd has said that you’re to rest, and rest you shall. You’ve suffered a shock and it’s likely to take you some time to recover.’ The lady chattered on.
Georgiana looked on in mild confusion.
‘Now, pop your feet back beneath those bedcovers and rest against the pillows. I’ll instruct Mrs Tomelty to bring you a little broth.’ She pressed a hand to her mouth in sudden consternation. ‘Oh, but whatever am I thinking of? You’ve not the faintest idea of who I am.’
‘I—’ Georgiana opened her mouth to speak.
‘No, my dear. It’s quite inexcusable of me. I’m Mirabelle Farleigh, wife to the brother of Nathaniel and Frederick, the two gentlemen who rescued you from your most unfortunate incident.’ She smiled sweetly at Georgiana and helped to rearrange the covers upon the great bed. ‘My husband is Henry, Viscount Farleigh.’
‘I must thank you, ma’am, for your kindness and for taking me into your home.’ Georgiana’s voice was husky.
Lady Farleigh’s golden ringlets bounced as she shook her head. ‘Think nothing of it, dear Miss Raithwaite. You’re very welcome.’ Her small pink mouth crinkled into a smile again.
‘You already know my name, ma’am?’ Georgiana’s brow lifted in surprise.
‘But of course, Nathaniel has told us all. And let’s dispense with all this “ma’am-ing”, please call me Mirabelle.’
Georgiana smiled at the small woman before her. ‘Thank you…Mirabelle, and, of course, you must call me Georgiana. But how did you come to know my name? Has my papa—?’
‘Forgive me, my dear.’ Lady Farleigh interrupted. ‘I’m ahead of myself as usual. Let me retell the story in full just as Nathaniel did.’
‘That would be very kind. Thank you, Mirabelle.’ Georgiana’s eyebrow twitched slightly, but she made no further comment as she leaned back against the pillows and prepared to listen.
Mirabelle settled herself into a chair close by the bed. ‘I had just visited baby Richard in the nursery when—’
A brisk knock rapped and not one, but two, gentlemen entered the bedroom.
Georgiana pulled the bedcovers higher to meet her chin and eyed them with suspicion.
Lady Farleigh gave a squeak of delight. ‘Nathaniel, Freddie! You’ve come to check upon poor Miss Raithwaite! What impeccable timing you have. I was just about to explain all about Nathaniel’s meeting with Mr Raithwaite, but now that you’re here I’ll leave all that to you. Miss Raithwaite is positively agog to know how we came to discover her name.’
An uncharitable thought popped into Georgiana’s mind.
Would Lord Nathaniel, whichever of the two men he happened to be, be able to squeeze a word in edgeways in the presence of the effusive Mirabelle? And then she had the grace to blush at her quite appalling lapse.
Nathaniel Hawke looked at the subtle play of emotions flitting so clearly across Miss Raithwaite’s surprisingly fine features. Curiosity followed suspicion, guilt trailed humour. Mirabelle’s chatter allowed him to study the girl with her pale skin and expressive eyes. Her long ebony-coloured hair splashed its dark luxury against the stark white of the nightgown, sweeping down to hang as two heavy curtains. Nathaniel experienced an urge to tangle his fingers in it. She was young, and a lady to boot. Two very good reasons why he should resist the compelling physical attraction he felt towards her.
Mirabelle had paused in her introductions and was pushing him forward with pride. ‘Nathaniel really is quite the hero despite his protestations.’
The grey-blue eyes glanced up to meet his…and stopped.
‘Miss Raithwaite, I’m glad to see that you’re somewhat recovered from your ordeal.’ He held her gaze, and smiled.
Georgiana’s mouth suddenly felt dry, and the room hot. Indeed, her cheeks burned uncommonly warm. ‘Sir,’ she managed to croak at the man standing before her. She owed him her life, of that she was certain. It was his strong arms that had pulled her from the river, his courage that had saved her from a watery grave. Those same dark eyes that had held such concern on the riverbank were now regarding her with amusement. The hair that had hung in sodden strands now sprang in mahogany-coloured curls around his rugged face. She should have proclaimed her gratitude from the very rooftops. But Miss Raithwaite, who had been raised to behave with the utmost decorum, suddenly found that it had deserted her, along with every other rational thought. For Lord Nathaniel Hawke was having a most peculiar effect upon her sensibilities. And she was certain that she did not care at all for such a situation.
The wicked smile crooked upon his face deepened as if he sensed the riot of emotion that roared within her. Dear Lord, surely he could do no such thing? The mere thought heightened the intensity of the two rosy patches glowing upon her otherwise pale cheeks. She cleared her raw throat and struggled to regain some measure of composure. ‘I’m very grateful to you.’ She glanced towards Lord Frederick standing further back. ‘I wouldn’t be here if it were not for you.’
Freddie smiled and stepped closer. ‘It was Nathaniel who went into the water to save you. My part was relatively minor in the whole affair.’ He looked towards his brother.
‘And where would both Miss Raithwaite and I be without your presence on the bridge?’ Nathaniel demanded. ‘I won’t take the credit for your part in the rescue.’ Turning once more to the girl, he offered an explanation. ‘Freddie pulled us from the water. Indeed, we both owe him our lives.’
Freddie’s face coloured in pleasure and he mumbled, ‘Nonsense.’
It
