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Court a beautiful debutante…
Or fulfill his quest for vengeance?
Part of Scandalous Australian Bachelors: When Sam Robertson returns to London after making his fortune in Australia, he has one mission—revenge on the earl who’d had him wrongly convicted and sent away years before. But upon meeting Lady Georgina, the earl’s daughter, Sam’s plan is thrown into disarray. Their admiration is mutual, but is his hunger for her stronger than his thirst for retribution?
LAURA MARTIN writes historical romances with an adventurous undercurrent. When not writing she spends her time working as a doctor in Cambridgeshire, where she lives with her husband. In her spare moments Laura loves to lose herself in a book, and has been known to read from cover to cover in a single day when the story is particularly gripping. She also loves to travel—especially visiting historical sites and far-flung shores.
Also by Laura Martin
Under a Desert Moon
Governess to the Sheikh
A Ring for the Pregnant Debutante
An Unlikely Debutante
An Earl to Save Her Reputation
The Viscount’s Runaway Wife
The Eastway Cousins miniseries
An Earl in Want of a Wife
Heiress on the Run
Scandalous Australian Bachelors miniseries
Courting the Forbidden Debutante
And look out for the next book
coming soon
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
Courting the Forbidden Debutante
Laura Martin
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-08869-5
COURTING THE FORBIDDEN DEBUTANTE
© 2019 Laura Martin
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk
Version: 2020-03-02
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For my boys,
you fill my life with love.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Extract
About the Publisher
Chapter One
‘It’s scandalous who they invite to these balls.’
‘I heard they were ex-convicts, recently returned from Australia.’
‘Surely not. Lord Gilham would have higher standards than that.’
‘A dear friend of mine told me they were fishermen, grown rich off the proceeds of smuggling,’ the first lady said in an exaggerated whisper, eliciting thrilled gasps from her companions.
Sam suppressed a smile. They’d been at the ball for less than five minutes and already the gossip was rife. He was surprised at how accurate this gaggle of middle-aged women were about their country of origin, at least. Despite spending much of his young life close to the sea, he’d never tried his hand at fishing before, or smuggling.
‘Enjoying yourself?’ George Fitzgerald asked as he clapped Sam on the back.
Surveying the room, Sam grimaced. This was not his world, not what he’d been born into. The cravat at his neck felt uncomfortably tight and the well-tailored jacket suddenly was too snug across the shoulders. Give him an open-necked shirt any day over the ridiculous garments the rich and powerful seemed to favour.
‘It’s certainly...different,’ Sam said.
‘Tell me about it.’
The two men stood side by side. So far no one had found the courage to come up and speak to them, despite the curious stares they were getting, but it would only be a matter of time.
‘These are your people, George. Shouldn’t you be off cavorting with the Lords and Ladies?’
Fitzgerald grimaced. He might have tenuous links to the aristocracy—his father was the second son of an impoverished baron—but George had spent his entire life in the wilds of Australia, raised on a farm. A very successful farm that made him one of the richest men in Australia but more at home around horses and hard work than the glamour of ballrooms and soirées.
‘Any sign of him yet?’ Fitzgerald asked.
Sam shook his head. The whole reason they’d secured the invitation to the Gilham ball was for Sam to start his search for the man who had ruined his life. Lord Westchester. Earl, influential member of the House of Lords and, in Sam’s eyes at least, the devil incarnate.
‘Boys,’ a high-pitched voice pierced the air, putting the two men at the centre of everyone’s attention again. ‘I’ve been looking for you for an age.’
‘Aunt Tabitha.’ Fitzgerald bent forward and kissed his aunt on the cheek, Sam doing the same on her other side.
‘Aren’t there supposed to be three of you?’ she asked. ‘Although maybe it is better to unleash you into society one at a time. The wicked widows won’t know which of you to seduce first.’
‘Crawford is off dancing with some doe-eyed debutante,’ Sam said, his eyes searching the room for their friend. Crawford had picked up the steps to the most popular dances quickly and easily and never seemed short of a partner on the dance floor. Sam was a little less of a natural, but he was agile and quick on his feet. As a result he could dance a waltz or a quadrille and fool a casual observer into thinking he’d been dancing all his life.
‘A man who doesn’t waste any time.’ Aunt Tabitha grinned, a far more salacious smile than should appear on the face of a respectable member of the ton. ‘Now, a little bird told me you are looking for a way to get close to Lord Westchester.’
Sam opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by Aunt Tabitha’s raised hand. He shot Fitzgerald a distrusting look.
‘Now, none of that,’ the older woman said. ‘I’m sure I don’t need to know why you need to gain an audience with the Earl, but that pretty young thing over there, the one in the blue dress, she is your ticket in.’
‘A relation of the Earl?’ Sam asked, his senses suddenly heightened.
‘His daughter. I’m sure a catch like that will have a full dance card already. But George tells me you’re a resourceful man. I’d wager my pearls you can find a way to steal her away from one of these bores for a dance or two.’
‘Lady Winston, you’re a gem,’ Sam said, stooping down and kissing her on the cheek.
Straightening up, he took a moment to square his shoulders, stiffen his spine and focus in on his prey. He rather thought this was how a general would feel when sighting his enemy on the battlefield.
He strode across the ballroom, ignoring the curious stares that followed him. Everyone wanted to know the truth behind the three mysterious gentlemen who had appeared in society as if by magic, but he would not be stopped by even the most persistent of enquirers.
The Earl’s daughter stood in the middle of an eager gaggle of men of varying ages, all of whom seemed desperate to see to her every need, even those she didn’t know she had. Sam paused for a moment, listening to the men clamour for her attention, and the young woman’s polite but uninterested replies.
‘Perhaps another glass of lemonade, Lady Georgina?’ a boy who couldn’t have been more than twenty suggested.
‘I’m perfectly fine, thank you, Mr Forrester.’
‘Would you care for some fresh air, Lady Georgina?’ another young man suggested.
‘I think our dance will be starting soon,’ a slightly older man said, eyeing the younger bucks with distaste.
The popular Lady Georgina smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and Sam knew instantly that she wouldn’t object to being taken away from her many admirers.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, his voice deep and low, clearing a space through the crowd that surrounded her. ‘Your mother asked me to find you. She has an urgent matter to discuss.’
Lady Georgina’s eyes snapped up and she regarded him with a half-smile on her face for a few seconds. She knew he was lying, knew it was a ruse to get her to himself for a little while, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to call his bluff. As her eyes met his Sam felt a frisson of excitement and a sudden burst of attraction. She was pretty, with thick, dark hair and deep green eyes set in a heart-shaped face with smooth, creamy skin, but it wasn’t until she looked at him that Sam understood the gaggle of suitors surrounding her. There was life in her eyes and Sam felt the pull, the unconscious urge to rush in and join her in whatever adventure she suggested.
‘Oh, I do hope it’s nothing serious,’ she said, raising a dainty hand to her mouth and trying to effect a worried expression.
‘Don’t overdo it,’ Sam murmured in her ear. He’d managed to manoeuvre most of the admirers out of the way and place himself firmly by her side. ‘Just a family matter,’ Sam said brightly. ‘I’m sure you’ll be back to...everyone very shortly.’
She placed the dainty hand in the crook of his arm and together they took a step forward. Through the thin material of her dress Sam could feel the heat of her skin and for an instant he wondered what it might feel like under his lips. Quickly he dismissed the thought. He’d only just met the woman and, more importantly, she was a means to get closer to his objective, not a suitable companion for a dalliance.
‘I say, shouldn’t I accompany you, Lady Georgina?’ a man of about Sam’s age said, his brow furrowed with suspicion. ‘Rather than this...stranger.’
‘What makes you think I’m a stranger?’ Sam asked, enjoying himself for the first time this evening.
‘Surely you don’t want to be going off with him,’ another man prompted. ‘You must have heard the rumours?’
‘Gentlemen, my mother has asked for me and Mr...’
‘Robertson,’ Sam supplied helpfully.
‘Mr Robertson has been kind enough to deliver her message and escort me to her. I’m sure I will be back shortly.’
Without a backwards glance Sam led Lady Georgina through the crowds, noting the curious looks from the assembled guests.
‘What’s your plan now, Mr Robertson?’ Georgina murmured in his ear.
‘Perhaps we could find somewhere a little more private,’ he suggested. Images of a deserted room, darkened except for the light of a few candles and Lady Georgina seductively draped across the arm of a chair popped into his mind. That wasn’t what he’d meant, but it was appealing all the same.
‘With the entire ballroom watching us? I have my reputation to think about.’ Sam wasn’t sure if he imagined the moment of hesitation, the slight blush to her cheeks as if she’d been imagining the same as him.
‘They do seem unnaturally interested in our every movement,’ Sam said, feeling at least twenty pairs of eyes on him at that very moment.
‘I think people are worried the big bad stranger might take advantage of innocent little me.’
‘Unlikely,’ he said, realising that he meant it. Lady Georgina might be the pampered daughter of an earl, used to having her every need seen to by a bevy of servants, but she was no shy and retiring innocent. She’d known he was lying about the message from her mother from the very instant the words had left his mouth, yet here she was on his arm, enjoying the break from the mundane for a few moments, those exotic eyes looking up at him with anticipation.
‘Perhaps the terrace?’ Lady Georgina suggested. ‘There will be plenty of couples taking the air, but it may be a little quieter.’
Sam led her on another loop of the ballroom and out on to the terrace. She was right, of course, there were couples dotted along the stone balustrade and strolling backwards and forward taking the air, but there were fewer eyes on them here. He realised suddenly how out of his depth he was in this world. It had never even crossed his mind that there would be a terrace for couples of withdraw to. The whole scene, the whole evening, was completely foreign to him. He felt more at home on horseback, galloping through the Australian countryside on a mission to find out why a remote well had dried up or scouting for valuable land for crops.
‘You’re quite the talk of the ballroom,’ Lady Georgina said as they paused at one end of the terrace.
‘All good things, I’m sure,’ Sam murmured.
She laughed and immediately Sam knew it wasn’t the laugh she reserved for her suitors. This was Lady Georgina’s true laugh. It lit up her face from her eyes to that perfectly pointed chin.
‘If all the rumours are to be believed, you’re a pirate, one of those ruthless corsairs based off the coast of Africa. You’re an ex-convict from the wilds of Australia. And you’re a French spy, eager to find a way to restart the war that ended six years ago.’
‘I am a busy man,’ Sam said, feeling 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 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.