Courting the Forbidden Debutante Read online

  ‘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 was joking, but the expression on his face told her he wasn’t. It was tempting, oh, so tempting. Just the thought of being held close by his strong arms, being smiled down upon with those lips that never seemed to stop smiling, but Georgina knew she had to have more willpower than that.

  ‘I cannot disappoint Mr Wilcox,’ she said, pulling away.

  ‘Even though you want to?’

  Before she could stop him, Mr Robertson had pulled her into his arms and manoeuvred them into a free spot on the dance floor among the other couples getting ready to dance the waltz. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Mr Wilcox striding towards them, stopping as he saw Georgina in the arms of another man, taking her first steps as the music began.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Georgina hissed.

  ‘Dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room.’

  ‘I told you I was engaged for this dance. With someone else.’

  Mr Robertson shrugged, managing to complete the movement and continue to hold her in the correct position without missing a step.

  ‘I wanted to dance with you, Lady Georgina, and I find not much is achieved in this world if you are content to stand back and wait your turn.’ Normally she would shy away from a man with quite so much self-assurance, but it suited the man in front of her and she found herself pulled in by his easy manner and strong arms in equal measure.

  He was a good dancer, certainly not a natural, but managed to twirl her round with a practised ease. She wondered how a proficiency at dancing a waltz fitted in to any of the rumours about his origins, but then as he gripped her a little tighter all thoughts of corsairs and French spies left her mind.

  ‘You’re a good dancer,’ he said as he executed a turn, taking the opportunity to pull her in another inch closer.

  ‘I’m an adequate dancer,’ she corrected. It was true, she could remember the steps, seldom stomped on her partner’s toes and was able to keep a conversation going throughout the less energetic dances, but she would never be one of those debutantes. The ones who sailed across the dance floor with barely any effort and looked as though they were skating across ice, their movements so smooth.

  ‘You’re a difficult woman to compliment,’ he murmured, silencing her protest with a stern look. ‘Not because it is difficult to find things to compliment you on, but you do argue back rather a lot.’

  ‘Not normally,’ Georgina said under her breath. Normally she accepted compliments with a small smile and a demure downcasting of her eyes. Her many suitors often extolled the beauty of her hair, her eyes, the curve of her mouth, and Georgina found it all rather ridiculous, but normally it was easier just to accept the compliment rather than get into a discussion about why her eyes weren’t like two shimmering emeralds.

  ‘You owe me,’ Georgina said, hastily changing the subject.

  ‘I owe you?’

  ‘Now I will have to find a way to make it up to Mr Wilcox for missing his dance.’

  ‘Lucky Mr Wilcox.’

  Georgina ignored the provocative remark and pushed on. ‘So as my reward I want to know the truth about you.’

  ‘Whether I’m a French spy or an evil criminal?’

  ‘Exactly. Who are you, Mr Robertson?’

  He leant in closer, far too close for propriety, but Georgina couldn’t bring herself to pull away. All eyes would be on them, and she knew by midday tomorrow her mother would be aware that Georgina had danced a little too closely with an unsuitable gentleman, but still she let his breath tickle her ear.

  ‘If I tell you, that would ruin the intrigue,’ he whispered, ‘and then you’d have no reason to want to see me again.’

  Georgina felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine. Mr Robertson was hardly a suitable suitor, her parents might not even allow him to come to call on her, but he was refreshingly different. And different was alluring when you’d been courted by most of the eligible bachelors in London and still found
them hard to distinguish from one another.

  The music stopped and Mr Robertson held on to her for just a moment longer than was proper, then leaving her feeling bereft, pulled away and bowed formally.

  ‘I think someone is trying to get your attention,’ he said, indicating into the crowd of guests.

  ‘Lady Yaxley, my chaperon for the evening.’

  ‘No doubt to scold you on your choice of company.’

  ‘It has been a pleasure, Mr Robertson, but now I must take my leave.’

  ‘Until next time, Lady Georgina. I hope it will not be too long an interval.’

  Chapter Two

  ‘Georgina, you must be more careful in the company you keep,’ Lady Yaxley scolded her as they took a slow walk around the ballroom. ‘And running off and abandoning those nice gentlemen like that. Your poor mother would have a seizure if she knew.’

  Georgina had to stifle a smile as Caroline peered over her mother’s head and rolled her eyes. When Lady Yaxley got started on the subject of propriety and good manners it was best to let her scold until she ran out of steam.

  ‘The rumours about that man, Mr Robertson, you would not believe. It is entirely inappropriate for you to ever speak to him again. Perhaps if you keep your distance now the damage will be minimised.’

  ‘Mama...’ Caroline groaned.

  ‘You’re no better, young lady. Don’t think I didn’t noticed you crossing nice Mr Fielding off your dance card. That is unacceptable.’

  ‘His breath is worse than a pile of manure,’ Caroline informed Georgina over her mother’s head.

  ‘This is no laughing matter. Three seasons you girls have been out and neither one of you married off.’

  ‘Not from lack of proposals on Georgina’s part,’ Caroline teased.

  ‘Yes, your father has been rather indulgent,’ Lady Yaxley said disapprovingly.

  Georgina had known the Yaxleys for her entire life. Born just days apart, she and Caroline had been destined to be friends. Their families lived on bordering estates and there were no other titled families for forty miles in each direction. It had been luck that meant they were perfectly suited to one another and from the age of five had been inseparable. Lady Yaxley was more like family than merely her friend’s mother, but that did mean Georgina was scolded by the older woman as if she were another errant daughter.

  ‘Mother, isn’t that Lord Westcott trying to get your attention?’ Caroline said, nodding to the other side of the ballroom.

  Watching in amazement, Georgina smiled as her friend caught the Baron’s eye and raised a hand in greeting, directing her mother’s gaze just as the Baron returned the gesture, making it seem as though he was the one who initiated the contact.

  ‘I need a trip to the retiring room,’ Georgina said quickly, to save them from having to talk to Lord Westcott. ‘Caroline, will you help me straighten out my dress?’

  Lady Yaxley gave them a suspicious glance, but nodded for the young women to take their leave.

  ‘Now tell me,’ Caroline said, linking her arm through Georgina’s. ‘Tell me everything about Mr Robertson.’

  They made their way through the ballroom and out of the double doors at the end, keeping up the pretence of heading for the retiring room, knowing Lady Yaxley’s eyes would be on them until they were out of sight.

  ‘There’s nothing much to tell,’ Georgina said with a shrug, realising it was the truth. Although she’d spent at least twenty minutes in the man’s company she didn’t really know any more about him than anyone else in the ballroom. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I’m not being coy.’

  ‘You went outside with him,’ Caroline declared. ‘You never go outside with anyone.’

  Paranoid about being caught in a compromising situation with a man she didn’t want to marry, Georgina had a rule about not being alone with a gentleman, ever.

  ‘We weren’t alone,’ she mumbled. ‘There were plenty of other couples taking the air.’

  ‘I’ve known you far too long, Georgina Fairfax. Don’t play coy.’

  ‘He was very forward,’ Georgina said, trying her best to sound disapproving rather than impressed. She didn’t want to be a stereotypical empty-headed young woman who was swept away by the first man to break with convention.

  ‘Did he try to kiss you?’

  ‘No.’ He hadn’t tried to kiss her, and Georgina realised she felt a little disappointed. He had looped an arm around her to pull her into the waltz and then at the end of the dance held on to her for just a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary, but Georgina wasn’t sure whether that had been deliberate or just a sign that he hadn’t spent much of the last few years honing his ball etiquette.

  ‘He hasn’t danced with anyone else. Just stood there with his friend, surveying the room in that brooding fashion.’

  ‘You sound smitten,’ Georgina said suspiciously.

  Her friend sighed. ‘I’m fed up, Georgie, fed up of the balls and the dinner parties and the operas. Fed up of boring young men pretending to want to get to know me when in reality all they want is an introduction to you.’ She waved off Georgina’s protests. ‘If a dashing French spy or an Australian convict asked me to run away with him, then I probably would. Don’t you want adventure? A little excitement?’

  Caroline had made her debut at the same time as Georgina, and people had started to whisper that three years was a long time to go without even a single marriage proposal. Georgina knew her friend was more than worthy of the bachelors of the ton and, with a substantial dowry and her family connections, there really should have been at least one proposal. Some times Georgina wondered if Caroline deliberately discouraged any proposals to allow her to remain free and unmarried a little longer, but mostly dismissed the idea. They’d been raised to be wives and mothers—even Caroline wasn’t so rebellious to actually want to be an old maid.

  Still, Georgina could see the appeal of being left alone to live the life you wanted, with no husband to dictate what you could and couldn’t do. Far too often she found herself daydreaming about a life where she got to make her own decisions, from the small things about where to reside to the bigger things such as leaving everything behind to travel the world. It was a dream that was so far-fetched Georgina knew it could never happen, but in quieter moments she still found herself thinking of a life where she was her own mistress.

  ‘Indulge me,’ Caroline said as they exited the ballroom and started to make their way through the hall towards the retiring room. ‘Tell me every last detail about him.’

  ‘About whom?’ A deep voice sounded behind them, making both young women jump.

  Even before she turned Georgina knew who it would be. His voice was unmistakable, clear and sharp, but without the refined tones of the hundred other men at the ball who’d attended one of the three most prestigious schools in England.

  ‘Mr Robertson,’ Georgina said, turning slowly, ‘may I introduce my dear friend Miss Yaxley.’

  ‘A pleasure to meet you, Miss Yaxley.’

  ‘We were just talking about you, Mr Robertson,’ Caroline said, and inside Georgina groaned. She loved her friend more than anyone else in the world, but some times she wished Caroline wouldn’t blurt out everything that was in her head. ‘Although Georgina is being a little reserved.’

  ‘Unlike you,’ Georgina muttered under her breath, giving Caroline a dig in the ribs.

  Mr Robertson gave her an amused look. ‘May I escort you somewhere, ladies?’ he asked. ‘And perhaps on the way I can answer some of your questions.’

  ‘I am just popping to the retiring room,’ Caroline said quietly. ‘But, Georgina, why don’t you go with Mr Robertson and I will come join you in a moment.’

  With her mouth parting in disbelief, Georgina shot a warning look at her friend.

  ‘I’ll only be a minute or two,’ Caroline said cheerfully, w
alking away.

  Left alone with Mr Robertson, Georgina turned on him suspiciously.

  ‘Were you following me?’ she asked.

  ‘Do many men follow you?’

  ‘Not so brazenly,’ she muttered, feeling completely set up by Caroline and needing to take her annoyance out on someone.

  ‘I find it pointless to be subtle,’ Mr Robertson said, with that confident smile lighting up his face and causing Georgina to lose track of her thoughts for a moment.

  ‘Evidently.’

  ‘You lied to me,’ he said, leaning in a little closer. Georgina felt her pulse begin to quicken as his arm brushed innocently against hers.

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘You said a woman should never be alone with a man...’ he paused ‘...yet here we are.’

  Quickly Georgina looked around the hallway. Damn him, he was right. They were alone, not out of any machinations on her part, but alone all the same. If some particularly nosy matron caught them here in the hall together, then rumours would start to fly. No matter that a few minutes ago there had been more than half-a-dozen people escaping from the heat of the ballroom, milling around the spacious hallway, now it was just she and the mysterious Mr Robertson.

  ‘You should leave,’ she said, keeping one eye fixed on the door from the ballroom. ‘Before anyone catches us together.’

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, not making a single move to depart. ‘What would happen if we were found alone out here?’

  ‘My reputation would be ruined and my father would marry me off quickly and quietly to any man that would have me.’

  ‘We can’t be having that,’ Mr Robertson said, taking her gently but firmly by the arm and pulling her around the corner just as two elderly women exited the ballroom, discussing the musicians as they headed in the same direction Caroline had disappeared in.

  Georgina found she was holding her breath, hoping they wouldn’t pause and glance in the opposite direction and see her pressed into a corner with an entirely inappropriate gentleman. Only when they were safely out of sight did she realise quite how close she was standing to her companion.