the easy smile spread over his lips. ‘I wonder I have enough time for so many pursuits.’
‘And you managed to fit in a visit to this humble little ball.’
‘No doubt to further one of my nefarious goals.’
She laughed again, attracting curious glances from another couple who were strolling past slowly. Quickly she composed her face into a more serious expression, but Sam had caught a glimpse of the woman underneath.
‘What are you doing here?’ Lady Georgina asked.
* * *
For a moment she thought he might answer her, but instead he flashed her that dazzling smile that was a little too distracting for anyone’s good and winked.
‘Running errands for your mother,’ he said.
‘Now I know that is nonsense. My mother is tucked up in bed with an awful headache, with no plans to surface until at least midday tomorrow.’
‘Ah, I see my little lie has been uncovered,’ Mr Robertson said, treating her to that lazy smile again that Georgina knew had melted many hearts over the years. He was handsome with dazzling blue eyes set in an open face with the widest grin she had ever seen. He exuded charm and had that easy confidence of someone who is sure of who they are and what they want. It was difficult not to like the man on first impressions, but as Georgina’s insides did a little flip she knew spending too much time with him would be dangerous—he was the sort of man young women lost their heads over.
‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ she said, resolutely trying to avoid his eyes in case she found herself unable to look away.
‘Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to make your acquaintance?’
It would be easy to take the compliment, far too easy, and even easier to let his charm and beguiling smile lull her into doing something she might regret. She’d never understood before how young ladies allowed themselves to be ruined, how they forgot everything they had been told time and time again about stepping into dark corners with men who could not be trusted, but right now she felt the fizz of anticipation deep inside her and knew it would be all too tempting to do something she might regret. Quickly she rallied and set her face into a serious expression.
‘Then you should have had someone introduce you,’ she said primly.
‘But you forget, I’m a pirate, a French spy and an ex-convict, I have barely any connections in English society and no one to introduce me to a beautiful young woman at a ball.’
‘Yet here you are,’ Georgina murmured.
It was curious, how he and his two friends had just waltzed into society, rumours bouncing off them left and right, without anyone really knowing who they were. One of the more believable pieces of gossip was that one of the young men was related to Lady Winston, which would explain their easy entrance to the ball, but other than that Georgina didn’t know what to believe.
‘Tell me,’ Mr Robertson said, leaning casually against the stone balustrade, ‘Do you like all the attention from your little crowd of admirers?’
Georgina sighed. She’d been out in society for three years after making a rather late debut at the age of eighteen and ever since she’d been followed around by a persistent group of men. Every ball, every evening at the opera, she would find herself with too many glasses of lemonade, too many offers of an escort, too many eager faces ready to do her bidding at the snap of her fingers. At first she’d enjoyed the attention—what young woman wouldn’t?—but after a few weeks she’d realised why they were quite so attentive.
‘Sometimes I think I might marry the next man who asks just to be rid of them,’ she said, surprising herself with her honesty.
Throwing his head back, Mr Robertson laughed, drawing curious looks from the other couples on the terrace.
‘It sounds terribly conceited, I know,’ Georgina said quickly.
‘You think they’re after you for your family connections?’
‘And my dowry.’
Georgina knew she was pretty enough and her mother had ensured she was tutored in all the things women were supposed to be accomplished in; she could play the piano and sing like a lark, she could organise a household with military precision and she could paint a vase full of flowers with any type of paint, but all of these things were just little bonuses. The real prize was being married to the daughter of an earl, an earl who was one of the most influential men in England.
‘You’ve turned down marriage proposals?’ Mr Robertson asked.
Nodding, Georgina felt the heat rise in her cheeks when she thought of quite how many men she’d turned down. Her father hadn’t minded, not at first, but she knew soon his patience would wear out. The next well-connected, titled gentleman who asked for her hand in marriage would be pushed upon her whether she liked him or not.
‘I should be getting back,’ she said, taking a step towards the glass doors.
A hand on her arm stopped her instantly. It was warm and firm and made Georgina want to throw caution to the wind.
‘Surely a couple more minutes couldn’t hurt,’ Mr Robertson suggested. ‘Or will your father be looking for you?’
‘My father?’ Georgina asked, frowning.
‘You said your mother was home in bed...’
‘My father never attends these sorts of events. I came with a friend and her mother.’
There was a flash of something in Mr Robertson’s eyes. For an instant it looked like disappointment, but whatever it was the look was gone quickly and replaced by the relaxed amusement Georgina was already beginning to associate with her companion.
‘Then there really is no reason we shouldn’t tarry a little longer.’
‘You forget my reputation, Mr Robertson. If I am not back in the ballroom within the next couple of minutes, all fashion of rumours will begin to spread.’
‘I find rumours are best ignored.’
‘But some of us are unable to ignore them. A young woman is only worth as much as her reputation. It has been lovely talking to you, Mr Robertson, but I must return to the ball.’
With a small bow he offered her his arm and led her back towards the glass doors. As they stepped inside Georgina felt the collective stare of the guests upon her. It had been foolish allowing Mr Robertson to lead her outside in the first place, foolish to want a break from the monotony of a ball she felt as though she’d attended a thousand times. Now there would be whispers, nothing too malicious, she was the daughter of an earl after all, but whispers all the same.
‘They’re striking up for a waltz,’ Mr Robertson said, his lips surprisingly close to her ear.
‘I think I’m meant to be dancing with Mr Wilcox,’ Georgina said, glancing around the room to see if she could spot her next companion.
‘Dance with me.’
She laughed, thinking he
