Regency Debutantes: The Captain's Lady / Mistaken Mistress. Margaret McPhee
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what would have happened without the quick actions of the two gentlemen. We would have lost you for sure.’
‘I’m sorry to have caused such distress, Papa, but—’
‘And how did you come to fall into the river? Do you know no better than a child?’
Georgiana lowered her eyes. ‘I …’ She paused. ‘There…’
Mr Praxton stepped forward, looking immaculate in his green coat. ‘I’m sure Georgiana has had ample time to consider her folly in strolling so close to the river’s edge. She’s given herself a nasty fright as well as the rest of us, and is not likely to repeat the same mistake again.’ He touched a hand to Edward Raithwaite’s sleeve. ‘Mr Raithwaite, I beg of you, don’t be too hard on the girl.’
‘You’re too damned soft with her, Praxton,’ the old man growled, then spoke to his daughter once more. ‘Do you hear how Mr Praxton pleads your excuses? And what have you to say in your defence?’
Walter Praxton threw a long-suffering smile at Lady Farleigh. The indulgent suitor to perfection.
It did not escape Georgiana’s notice. Neither did Lady Farleigh’s subtle knowing nod.
Her body tensed in anger. Walter Praxton was a conniving knave. And it seemed he had hoodwinked them all. Well, if he thought her fool enough to stay silent over the precise cause of her winter plunge, he had another think coming. ‘Papa, I have no excuses, only reasons. As they are of a delicate nature, I would prefer to discuss them with you in private.’
Mr Raithwaite looked at her knowingly. ‘Mr Praxton has already spoken to me of the matter, and, much as I cannot pretend that I’m happy with your behaviour—’ he stroked his chin ‘—I understand that young women are somewhat excitable in response to such declarations.’
‘Exactly what has Mr Praxton revealed?’ Georgiana’s grey-blue eyes glittered dangerously, her temper soaring by the minute.
‘Georgiana!’ He glanced apologetically at Lady Farleigh. ‘Have a care with your manners. Now is clearly not the time to discuss the matter.’ His countenance was turning ruddier by the minute.
‘Oh, please do excuse me, Mr Raithwaite, Mr Praxton, Georgiana,’ Lady Farleigh said. ‘I’ve just recalled a pressing matter downstairs.’ Mirabelle fluttered out of the bedroom and straight to the library to apprise her relatives of the news that the delectable Miss Raithwaite had indulged in scandalous behaviour with Mr Praxton. And who could blame her with such a thoroughly handsome beau?
Georgiana looked from her father to Mr Praxton and back again. ‘Lady Farleigh has left us. Surely we can speak of the matter now.’ Her teeth gripped firmly together.
‘You’re trying my patience, girl. When will you learn to leave things be? Is it not enough that you’ve…that you behaved in such a way? Your mother would be shocked to hear of it. Mr Praxton and I have decided that Mrs Raithwaite should not learn of your actions prior to this afternoon’s incident. We informed her only of the betrothal.’ Mr Raithwaite nodded sagely.
She could feel the steady pulse beating at her neck, pumping the anger throughout her body. ‘I don’t know what untruths Mr Praxton has told you but be assured, Papa, that I’ve done nothing dishonourable. I’m neither compromised nor ruined, and marriage to Mr Praxton is not necessary. You may tell the truth to Mama.’
‘Enough!’ Mr Raithwaite said. ‘I’ll hear no more. Mr Praxton has confessed the truth of those stolen kisses. As a gentleman, he felt it his implicit duty to do so.’ His cheeks bulged a puce discoloration. ‘He will make you a good husband, Georgiana.’
Walter Praxton was fairly glowing with angelic piety. ‘I’m afraid Miss Raithwaite has stolen my heart, sir.’ He sighed and glanced down at the rug.
Mr Raithwaite looked at him strangely. ‘Then you had best take more care of her. She is not yet your wife, Mr Praxton.’
Their eyes locked for a few silent moments before the younger man inclined his head in subtle compliance.
The elderly hand moved to stroke the grizzled beard. ‘That said, I believe the wedding should be convened with some haste.’
The blood beat strongly in Georgiana’s ears. How could her stepfather take the word of an acquaintance over hers? Did he truly judge her character so lightly? ‘Papa,’ she tried again.
Edward Raithwaite turned a steely eye upon his stepdaughter. ‘Say no more, Georgiana. It’s clear that your experience this afternoon has adversely affected your mind. I trust that a good night’s rest will return you to your senses. I’ll have the carriage sent round to collect you tomorrow.’
‘Adieu, Miss Raithwaite, until tomorrow.’ Mr Praxton bowed.
Together the two gentlemen turned and left the room.
An irate Georgiana stared at the door that closed so firmly behind them. Her jaw clenched with determination and her fingers stole to worry at the lobe of her ear. If Papa thought the affair settled, he was to be grossly disappointed.
It was some time later that Georgiana heard the discreet knock at the door and found Nathaniel Hawke entering the bedroom for the second time that day. The Italian fell limply from her fingers, pages fanning open to lose the sentence she had been forcing herself to concentrate upon just moments before. She glanced up to find him walking purposefully towards her with a large tray in his hands. The elderly and rather rotund Mrs Tomelty hobbled in his wake. Setting the tray down upon the table positioned beside the bed, he gestured towards the cook. ‘Mrs Tomelty has made you some of her famous broth. If you would care to try a little, I can personally vouch for its healing properties.’
Georgiana’s gaze flicked from the strong tanned fingers that curled around the handles of the tray to the dark warmth of his eyes. Lord Nathaniel had brought her the broth, in person! Unwittingly a crinkle of suspicion crept across the bridge of her nose. She wetted her suddenly dry lips and looked at the cook.
‘That he can, miss,’ beamed Mrs Tomelty. ‘Could never get enough of my broth, could Lord Nathaniel. Always had to have a bowl full to the brim every time he fell out of a tree or come off his horse. Never known a little ‘un like him for getting himself into mischief. Why, I remember the time him and Lord Henry were swimming, bare as the day they were born, in the—’
‘Thank you, Mrs Tomelty,’ said Nathaniel rather forcefully.
A smile tugged at the corners of Georgiana’s mouth. Suddenly the tall, athletic gentleman standing only a few feet from where she lay in bed didn’t seem quite so intimidating.
Mrs Tomelty moved forward to pat Georgiana’s hand. ‘Now, duck, you eat that up, and it’ll do you the world of good. I’ll be just over there in that chair by the fireplace so that there won’t be no problems ‘bout Lord Nathaniel bein’ in a young lady’s bedroom.’ The elderly servant remained blissfully unaware of the ghost of a grimace that flitted across Nathaniel’s face. She hobbled the distance to the fireplace, eased herself into the rose brocade chair, and made herself comfortable.
‘Please forgive my intrusion, Miss Raithwaite. I know that I should not be here, but I wished to speak to you…alone…to reassure myself that you are well.’ There was a slight uneasiness about him, as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t know quite how to go about saying it.
Georgiana’s suspicion should have escalated, but it didn’t. Instead, it fizzled away to be replaced with an intrinsic trust. Has your experience with Mr Praxton taught you nothing of gentlemen? the little voice inside her head insisted. But something outside of logic and common sense assured her that the man standing before her now was nothing like Walter Praxton. Mr Praxton revolted her, but Lord Nathaniel…A shiver tingled up her spine and she deliberately turned her mind from that vein of thought. ‘I am very well, thank you, my lord,’ she managed with a politeness of which Mama would have been proud.
He was looking at her as if he knew the words that tripped from her