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,