Regency Debutantes (18 page)

No fault of her own?
Georgiana’s sooty long lashes batted in astonishment. Who was it, then, that had cut her hair, dressed her in Francis’s clothes and forced her upon the mail to Fareham? Didn’t he realise that it was all her own fault? ‘Captain Hawke.’ She held her hand up to still his flow, gentlemanly and eloquent though it was. ‘I fear that you’re ascribing an innocence to me that’s quite unwarranted.’

Nathaniel, who had been on the point of delivering his
fait accompli,
stalled, regarding her with an expression of shock. Had Walter Praxton then stolen more than a few kisses that day in Hurstborne Park? It was like a kick to the gut. He hesitated over the words to express himself. ‘You…you’re no longer an innocent? Are you trying to tell me that you’ve…that you and Mr Praxton—?

‘Dear God, no!’ Georgiana’s face flushed scarlet. ‘However could you think such a thing?’ She made to step back from his looming figure, caught her legs against the chair and stumbled. In an instant his arms enveloped her, saving her from the fall, pulling her upright and against the length of his muscular body. He held her, a peculiar expression of relief on his face, before setting her back on her feet and retreating to the far end of the cabin.

‘Then what do you mean, Miss Raithwaite?’ Everything about him was static and still, the calm before the storm.

Exasperation and embarrassment lent an edge to Georgiana’s retort. Why was it that each time she tried to remedy a situation she only succeeded in making it worse? ‘I’m merely trying to tell you, Captain Hawke, that we are in this ridiculous situation because of my actions and my actions alone.
I
ran away from home.
I
disguised myself as a boy, and I didn’t exactly hide myself from the officers of the Impress Service. No sir, I cannot, in good conscience, stand here while you describe me as the innocent victim. The terrible truth is that the fault is mine.’ She turned stormy eyes to his, raised her voice in impassioned plea. ‘Please believe me when I say that I had no thought that matters would unfold as they did. I didn’t mean to ruin you, Nathaniel.’

He stepped towards her boldly, disbelieving. ‘
You
have ruined
me?’

She shook her head and lowered her eyes. ‘I’m sorry sir, that you’ve suffered when your only crime has been to help me.’

‘Georgiana …’ his voice gentled and he was so close she could feel his breath upon her hair ‘.you seem to be under a mis—’

‘No, Nathaniel. Don’t make excuses for me. My reputation is ruined. I know that.’ She raised her head and looked him directly in the eye. ‘I’m prepared to live with the consequences of my actions. But please believe me when I say that I didn’t mean to risk your position, sir.’

He watched her intently. ‘You’ve no idea of how your life would be affected if you were found aboard this ship, unchaperoned amidst all these men. A ruined reputation is easily said. It’s not so easy, Georgiana, to live with. To be ostracised by society, shunned by respectable women and subjected to the worst kind of attention from those who would call themselves gentlemen.’

‘I will bear it.’

She felt his forefinger touch her chin, tilting her face up to his. ‘You need not. There is another way.’

The muscles tensed beneath his fingertip. ‘Not for me, there isn’t.’

He could see the stubborn determination in those clear grey-blue eyes, knew that she would never accept him for her own sake. Nathaniel had no intention of allowing her wilful pride to condemn the rest of her life. And in that moment he knew just the ploy to use. If Georgiana thought her presence a threat to his career, then who was he to correct the misunderstanding? ‘There’s only one thing that we can do, given the circumstances. I know that you don’t want to, but it’s with both our welfares in mind that I ask it.’

The breath stilled in Georgiana’s throat. Everything
stopped, or so it seemed, except the loud rhythmic thud of her heart.

Rich dark eyes held hers with a burning intensity. His fingers moved softly to caress her cheek. ‘Will you do me the honour of accepting my name in marriage?’

In that split second Georgiana’s world turned upside down. He wanted her for his wife? She felt suddenly light-headed. ‘M-marriage?’ she uttered faintly.

‘Indeed.’ His breath was warm upon her face. His eyes watchful, waiting.

She was conscious of the gentleness of the long fingers that had stilled upon her skin, of the sheer strength of the man, and his determination to do what he thought was right. ‘Would it set matters right with the Admiralty?’ They stood so close yet without touching, save for the featherprint of his fingers on her cheek. Across that small space the heat of his masculinity scorched the full length of her body, pulling her like a magnet. ‘I mean—’ she glanced away ‘—how could you be saved simply by marrying me?’

‘Saved by marriage.’ The words were soft, whispered almost as if he were thinking them aloud. His fingers moved to stroke her silken ebony locks.

She stood entranced, unable to move.

‘To have a woman steal unknowingly upon a ship, disguised as a boy, and subsequently employ her as a ship’s boy, having her sleep each night within one’s own cabin is enough to condemn any captain. But if that same captain were to wed his betrothed in a distant British base, and transport that lady back to England as his wife, then that is an entirely different
matter. It would, of course, be frowned upon, a slap on the wrist and all that. Nothing more. My captaincy would be safe.’

The explanation made sense. ‘I see,’ she replied a little breathlessly. The proximity of Nathaniel Hawke’s large and manly body seemed to be having rather a strange effect upon her. She struggled to retain a modicum of her common sense before it all deserted her.

His deep melodic voice sounded again. ‘I wouldn’t be the only one to benefit from a matrimonial arrangement. When I thought to wed you, Georgiana, it was not only the salvation of my own reputation that I had in mind.’

‘No?’ What, then, did he have in mind? Some measure of the same affection that she felt for him?

‘A good marriage would remedy any blight on your reputation.’ He smoothed her hair behind her ear, his fingers slipping down to capture the soft lobe that she worried so frequently at. ‘I know that I’m not your choice, Georgiana.’ He thought fleetingly, and with considerable discontent, of Walter Praxton. ‘But I would endeavour to make a good husband.’

The shimmering grey-green lights within her eyes dimmed, and she looked away to hide her disappointment. It was clear that her fondness was not returned.

When she still did not answer, he prompted, ‘So, Miss Raithwaite, will you consent to marry me?’

‘To save us both?’ she questioned in a small flat voice, so unlike her own.

‘That’s certainly one way of putting it.’

She raised her chin a notch. ‘Then, sir, my answer must be yes.’

But the bleakness in her eyes did not escape Nathaniel’s notice.

Since the prisoners had come aboard Nathaniel had confined Georgiana to the night cabin. Soon they would reach the British station at Gibraltar, where he meant to deposit the
Ville-de-Milan
and
Coruna,
and both their crews. Such a net of prizes would at least secure a decent financial recompense for them all. And he would see to it personally that his men were amply rewarded. Only when his precious French cargo had been unloaded would he be truly at ease. Nathaniel dared take no chances when it came to Georgiana. She would not be safe until they were married.

Married. He still did not fully understand how it had come to this. A mixture of honour and guilt and determination to prove his father wrong. But he had to admit that the prospect of marrying Georgiana was not altogether unattractive. Indeed, the more he thought on it, he could see that it would have a significant number of positive advantages. The girl was intelligent, and could engage him in interesting conversation more than any other female he knew. And, although she was shy, she was certainly in possession of a wicked sense of humour. For all her youth she seemed to have a certain maturity of spirit that appealed to him. Not to mention her attributes of a more physical nature. There had been a tension between them since first he’d pulled her from the River Borne, a thread of attraction that bound him to her in ways he could not hope to understand. He wanted her, all of her, from the ripple of her laughter to the endearing way she worried at her ear lobe, from her strength of courage to the fire in her eyes. Yes, indeed, marriage to Miss Raithwaite would be no bad thing.

Captain Hawke was definitely in a good mood. First there was the humming, followed by the marked spring in his step and his uncommon lightness of spirit. Lieutenant Anderson eyed him with mounting suspicion.

‘Does Master Robertson show no sign yet of a possible recovery?’ the first lieutenant enquired with concern.

Captain Hawke appeared supremely unaffected by his nephew’s unfortunate condition. ‘No, none whatsoever, Mr Anderson. Such a pity.’ He leafed through the pages of the book before him. ‘Have you spoken to the purser yet? I want to be sure that we’ve adequate provisions for our journey back to England. Plenty of lemons and vegetables. I don’t want the men succumbing to scurvy. Perhaps some extra livestock to bring a bit of relief from the salted beef.’

‘All is in order with Mr Tufton. He’s produced his lists of provisions to procure and all his records are up to date and accurate. May I be so bold as to suggest that you speak to the surgeon?’ John Anderson shuffled his boots together rather uneasily.

‘Regarding the food rations?’ A perplexed look crossed Captain Hawke’s face. ‘Shouldn’t think he’s got too much to say on the matter, as long as the men are reasonably well fed.’

The lieutenant examined a spot on the toe of his boot. ‘No, sir. I was thinking more for the boy. He’s been unwell for some days now.’

‘Oh,’ replied his commanding officer, in rather hearty tones, ‘no need for that. Running a bit of fever. Nothing serious enough to bother Mr Belmont with. Now, as to those repairs on the gun deck …’ and the captain continued in his chipper tone.

A knock sounded at the door.

‘Enter.’

‘Ah, Captain Hawke. I was just wondering whether young Robertson is feeling any better?’

Nathaniel barely raised his eyes. ‘No improvement yet, Mr Fraser. You’ll be the first to know if there’s any change.’

The elderly valet’s head shook in disbelief. ‘Poor wee laddie. Sick to the bottom of his stomach. And him being such a help to Mr Belmont on the gun deck an’ all.’

‘Sickness, you say, as well as the fever?’ the lieutenant piped up.

The pale eye widened. ‘Has the lad a fever on top of the terrible vomiting? You never said so, sir.’ Mr Fraser was looking accusingly at the captain.

When Nathaniel raised his head it was to find one and a half pairs of worried eyes trained upon him. Heavens above. What was their sudden fascination with George Robertson? ‘Mr Anderson,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘Mr Fraser, Master Robertson has a slight fever and a little sickness. It is nothing to overly concern yourselves with. The boy is fine.’

By the time Nathaniel was
en route
to visit Mr Tufton, the purser, his good mood was wearing a trifle thin. Not only had he been visited by both the surgeon and his mate, to enquire as to the rumour they had heard concerning ship’s boy Robertson and his failing health, but Lieutenant Pensenby, yes, Cyril Pensenby, had accosted him on the quarterdeck to ask of the boy’s welfare. Had his whole crew become obsessed with George Robertson? What the hell was going on?

It was a large captain of somewhat surly disposition that finally reached the orlop deck and the purser’s store. ‘Mr Tufton,’ he began.

The purser, a short, extremely round man, was squashed within the dimly lit, caged store, directly between the sacks of flour and oatmeal and the small wooden casks of suet and butter. ‘Captain Hawke. Am I pleased to see you, sir. Couldn’t help wondering how the young lad Robertson was faring. Heard he’s been a
bit poorly of late.’ An aroma of dried fish and vinegar filled the air as Mr Tufton moved forward.

The captain turned a jaundiced eye on him. ‘I’ve suddenly remembered a most pressing appointment elsewhere. I bid you good day, Mr Tufton.’

He had almost made it back safely to his day cabin, striding past the numerous bodies busy in cleaning and checking the great long guns, when a gruff voice assailed him. ‘Captain Hawke, beggin’ your pardon, sir. It’s about the lad, George. Has the swelling spread? Will he lose the leg?’

Nathaniel stared wordlessly at the huge figure of Burly Jack, before managing to mutter, ‘The leg?’

‘Aye, sir, the bad leg, like, what’s got the swellin'.’ The big man wrung his hands together. ‘He’s a good lad, even if he is your nephew, sir.’ He winked broadly, ‘But I’ll mention nothin’ of that to the others.’

Captain Hawke decided to accept this comment in the vein in which it was offered. ‘His legs are quite uninjured, although he does have a mild fever and sickness, nothing serious. Why are you so concerned about him?’

Able seaman Grimly looked the captain level in the eye. ‘Lad got lifted by the Press Gang when he was trying to help me. George charged in when they set about me. He didn’t care nothin’ for his own safety. Like I say, he’s a good lad, a loyal lad.’

It was a very pensive Nathaniel Hawke that returned to his cabin.

Georgiana sat alone in the night cabin. The book sagged heavily in her hands. She closed it with a snap before standing to stretch out her back. It had been some days since she had agreed to become Nathaniel Hawke’s wife, yet her feelings on the matter had not changed. He was kind, courageous and caring. Never one to shirk responsibility he would do what he knew to be the right thing, in spite of every adversity.
He made her laugh, never spoke to her in the condescending manner of which her papa and Mr Praxton were so fond, and was possibly the most attractive man she had ever set eyes upon. Quite simply, she loved him. She’d known it from the moment the French guns had fired. It was strange how the risk of death brought a clarity to one’s feelings. Indeed, had she not secretly wished to marry such a man as he, even at their first acquaintance in Farleigh Hall? That meeting now seemed a memory from the long distant past, so much had happened in the interceding weeks. Too much. Now her wish had been granted and she was to marry Captain Hawke. Betrothed to such a man, a glorious man, who gladdened her heart and warmed the blood in her veins. She sighed and wriggled her arms in an attempt to regain sensation in her numbed fingers.