‘Mother,’ Georgina murmured, glancing at Mr Robertson, before realising that he looked more amused than offended.
‘It’s a beautiful country,’ he said, ‘You should visit one day.’
‘Mama is not keen on foreign travel,’ Georgina said quietly. For her part she’d always dreamed about seeing the world. It was an abstract dream for a woman of her class and upbringing. If she was lucky she might find herself honeymooning around Europe, but that would be the extent of her travels. Well brought-up young ladies did not go any farther afield than Italy. Despite that Georgina had always paused on the pages of books with pictures of exotic locations, places like Egypt and India, or the wilds of Africa.
‘I understand,’ Mr Robertson said. ‘It isn’t for everyone.’
He glanced at her then, as if seeing whether Georgina shared her mother’s view on travel. She felt her heart beat a little harder in her chest and had to concentrate to stop her face betraying her emotions. It wouldn’t do to let her mother even glimpse the slight fascination she had for this man. Georgina knew it was just because Mr Robertson was different and perhaps because of those dazzling blue eyes and rather captivating smile, but she couldn’t help wanting to get closer to him, to learn more about him. Of course she knew that could never happen; the differences in their stations in life meant they couldn’t even easily become friends. Nevertheless she hoped she would see Mr Robertson again.
‘I must take my leave,’ he said, standing. ‘Thank you for receiving me, Lady Westchester, Lady Georgina. I do hope we see each other soon.’
He’d behaved perfectly, ensuring he did not overstay his welcome, and despite her mother’s obvious reservations about the man Georgina did not think she could complain about his behaviour, just his origins.
‘You mentioned the Hamiltons’ music evening,’ Georgina said smoothly. ‘Perhaps we shall see one another there.’
It was bold, far too bold, but she wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to Mr Robertson yet. She wanted to hear more about Australia, hear more about his background, so she’d decided to drop a hint as to where she’d be later in the week and see if he took up the invitation.
‘Drowning your sorrows?’ George Fitzgerald asked as he clapped Sam on the back, flopping down into the free seat beside him. ‘Did the beauteous Lady Georgina turn you away?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Difficult types, these daughters of the nobility.’
‘She didn’t turn me away.’
‘Why the long face then?’
‘The Earl is in Hampshire and there’s not much chance of him making an appearance any time soon.’
‘Ah. I see.’ Fitzgerald drummed his fingers on the table before motioning to one of the serving girls for two more jugs of ale. ‘I take it you’re not giving up.’
‘No.’ Giving up was the furthest thing from his mind. ‘I’ll have to go to Hampshire, that’s all.’
He’d hoped to avoid returning to his home county. There were painful memories back in his childhood home that he didn’t wish to confront. The last time he’d been there, his mother and two younger sisters had been alive. Now he had no close relatives left in Hampshire, but the memories of his childhood and all he’d lost were based there and he had planned on leaving those ghosts to sleep.
‘You’ll struggle to even catch a glimpse of the Earl if you just turn up. You need an invitation.’
‘To go to Hampshire?’
‘To infiltrate the Earl’s estate.’
Sam tapped his fingers on the table and considered for a while. For years he’d sworn one day he would return to England and make Lord Westchester pay for stealing his childhood and ripping him from his family. As a young lad his fantasies of revenge were elaborate and often involved the old Earl falling to his knees, begging Sam for forgiveness. Now, older, and more worldly wise, Sam knew it was unlikely Lord Westchester would even remember the day he carelessly wrongfully accused a young boy of stealing. But he wanted the older man to at least acknowledge the wrong he had done and perhaps suffer in some small way, too.
‘These wealthy types often have house parties at their country estates, don’t they?’ Sam asked, his mind ticking through possibilities.
‘Yes,’ Fitzgerald said slowly, ‘I believe so, but probably not in the depths of winter.’
‘Doesn’t matter. I’m in no rush.’
‘And you’d have to be invited.’
Sam grinned. It would be a challenge. Lady Georgina liked him, that much he was sure of, but in the way you liked a rather exotic animal in a menagerie: interesting to study for a few minutes, but certainly not someone you allowed close. Then there was Lady Georgina’s mother. She’d judged him within seconds of their meeting and he knew he hadn’t come out favourably. His family were not one of the select few she approved of and as such she would regard him as unsuitable for her daughter to spend any time with.
Feeling the rush of anticipation at the idea of spending more time with Lady Georgina, he quickly tried to dampen the feelings. It didn’t matter she was the first woman in a long time to pique his attention, she was not the one for him. He had to focus, not allow himself to get distracted by those soulful green eyes and the sense that there was so much more to Lady Georgina than most of her suitors gave her credit for.
‘They might not even host a house party,’ Fitzgerald said, but nothing could dampen Sam’s enthusiasm.
‘I’m sure I can persuade the fair Lady Georgina it would be a splendid idea,’ Sam said.
Rolling his eyes, Fitzgerald clapped Sam on the back. ‘One thing you’ve never suffered from is a lack of self-confidence.’
‘No point going through this world not believing in yourself. Not many other people will.’
Sam didn’t quite believe that sentiment, despite voicing it. He’d been lucky enough to have someone believe there was more to him than his convicted criminal status. George’s father, Henry Fitzgerald, had taken both him and Crawford in to his family and given them a chance to build good lives for themselves in Australia. If it wasn’t for the older man they would probably both be travelling from farm to farm, selling their services as farmhands like hundreds of other ex-convicts, with no real base, no real purpose. Sam would be eternally grateful his life had taken a different turn.
‘Drink up,’ Fitzgerald said. ‘You don’t want to be spotted in such an insalubrious establishment if you want to be accepted by Lady Georgina’s crowd.’
He thought it unlikely anyone even acquainted with Lady Georgina would wander into the tavern, but drained the rest of his ale all the same. It looked like he was going to be in London for the foreseeable future and he had a lot to plan if he was going to secure invitations to all the events the Earl’s daughter would be attending. A little bribery of Lady Georgina’s household staff might smooth the way. At least that way he would know which events the Earl’s daughter would be attending.
* * *
Giving in, Georgina crossed to the window and peeked out from behind the curtains. Her bedroom looked out over the gardens of Grosvenor Square and often she would stand watching the exhausted nannies and nursemaids chasing their energetic charges along the perfectly kept paths. Today, however, she’d fancied she had seen Mr Robertson out there.
She looked for thirty seconds, peering from her hidden position, before feeling rather stupid and stepping out from behind the curtains.
Of course there was no sign of the enigmatic Mr Robertson.