gentleman. Only when they were safely out of sight did she realise quite how close she was standing to her companion.
‘Safe?’ he asked, moving to one side so he could check over her shoulder. He was close, his body barely a few inches from hers, and she could feel the heat of him emanating through the layers of his clothing. It wasn’t a contrived closeness, though—in fact, he barely seemed to register her and certainly wasn’t moving in to try to touch her or kiss her.
An unfamiliar disappointment started to uncurl inside Georgina. Most men would have used this situation to their advantage and, while normally that irritated her beyond belief, she realised with surprise that she wouldn’t have minded Mr Robertson moving in for a kiss. Of course she would have rebuffed him, but the attempt would have been nice.
‘We need to leave,’ Georgina said, pulling herself together. ‘Separately.’
He looked at her then, a gaze that seemed to take in every inch of her body, and she fancied she saw something change in how he was standing.
‘As you command, my lady,’ he said, executing a mock bow. ‘But only if you grant me one favour.’
With her heart pounding in her chest Georgina nodded, wondering when she had reverted back to a giddy eighteen-year-old.
‘Allow me to call on you tomorrow.’
She’d expected him to ask for a kiss and had been prepared to offer him her hand. Momentarily thrown, she found herself nodding before she’d thought through the request.
‘Then I will take my leave a happy man,’ he said, catching her hand in his own and planting a kiss just below her knuckles.
With a quick glance to ensure they were still alone Mr Robertson walked away, returning to the ballroom without looking back. Georgina still hadn’t moved when Caroline exited the retiring room two minutes later and quickly had to find her composure before her friend guessed something had happened.
‘Mercenary,’ Ben Crawford commented as he took a long slurp of tea from the delicate china teacup. In his hands the drinking vessel looked foreign and out of place, but Crawford didn’t seem to notice.
‘What’s mercenary?’ Sam asked, rising from his seat to help himself to another portion of smoked haddock from the serving plate on the sideboard. His normal breakfast consisted of porridge and some bread—it seemed a strange luxury to be eating fish for breakfast.
‘You are.’
Raising an eyebrow, he waited for his friend to continue, tucking into his breakfast while the silence dragged out.
‘I know you want to get your revenge on the old Earl, but compromising his daughter—that’s dark, even for you.’
‘I’m not...’ Sam began to splutter, then paused, swallowed his mouthful, took another sip of tea and continued to talk. ‘I’m not planning on compromising the daughter.’
‘You went halfway there last night. All I heard the entire evening was how scandalous Lady Georgina was acting over a ne’er-do-well stranger.’
‘I only danced with the girl.’
‘And led her off into dark corners.’
‘Hardly.’
‘They have different rules here,’ Crawford mused, his voice dipping. ‘No dragging your intended off over one shoulder and holding a pistol to their head until they capitulate into marrying you.’
‘Because that happened all the time in Australia.’ Sam paused, leaning back in his chair, rocking on the back two legs in a motion that he knew irritated his friend. ‘I’m not going to compromise Lady Georgina,’ he said firmly. ‘I merely need an acquaintance with her to gain me entry into her house and a little familiarity with the family.’
‘So you’re not going to punish the father by ruining the daughter?’
‘No.’
The thought had briefly crossed his mind, if he was being completely honest, but Sam, despite his past conviction, thought himself as an honourable man. It was one thing to seek vengeance against the man who had ruined his life, quite another to drag an innocent into it all merely because she was his daughter.
He hadn’t expected to like her. She was the daughter of the man who’d nearly destroyed him and he’d been fully prepared to have to pretend to enjoy her company to get close to her. But in reality he’d found her interesting and, in truth, perhaps a little too alluring. It was the way she’d looked at him with those intense green eyes, the heat he’d felt deep inside when his arm had looped around her waist, the overwhelming urge to kiss her he’d had to fight as they’d waited in the hall together. All in all he knew he shouldn’t like her, but he did, and it made him resolve not to involve her more than was absolutely necessary in his plans for revenge.
‘Did you get what you wanted?’ Ben asked, reaching out and tugging on his friend’s chair until all four feet were on the floor again.
‘Lady Georgina agreed to me calling on her today,’ Sam said, feeling inordinately pleased with himself.
When he, Ben Crawford and George Fitzgerald had decided to return to England, Sam’s main motivation had been revenge. He wanted to look Lord Westchester in the eye and confront the man about how he’d treated him eighteen years previously. Lord Westchester had been solely responsible for Sam’s false conviction for theft and his transportation to Australia. Now he would always be an ex-convict; that never left you. Nor did the years of back-breaking labour, the months spent in the filthiest conditions on the hulk ship or the grief of a ten-year-old boy being ripped from his home, his family and everything he held dear. The day he’d been sentenced had been the last day he’d ever seen his family. Meanwhile the Earl had been living his life of luxury and probably hadn’t given a second thought to the young boy he’d handed over to the magistrate all those years ago.
‘And you’re hoping the Earl is at home?’ Ben asked.
Nodding, Sam swung back on his chair again, balancing perfectly until he heard footfalls behind him.
‘You boys are up early,’ Lady Winston said as she entered the dining room.
They’d returned from the ball in the small hours of the morning, but the years of getting up before the dawn to work on the vast Australian farms meant neither Sam nor Crawford were in the habit of sleeping past seven o’clock and even that was a rare luxury.
‘Good morning, Lady Winston,’ Sam said, standing as the older woman waved a hand for both men to desist with the formalities.
‘Aunt Tabitha,’ she insisted, not for the first time.
‘Good morning Aunt Tabitha,’ Crawford said, placing a kiss on her cheek before returning to his seat.
‘George warned me about your charm,’ Aunt Tabitha scolded and Sam had to suppress a smile. Crawford was irresistible to the ladies, whatever their age. He had that easy-going confidence that meant they just seemed to fall into his arms.
