Courting The Forbidden Debutante. Laura Martin

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. There was absolutely no reason for him to be in her street, especially five hours after he’d paid his call.

      ‘Silly girl,’ she murmured to herself. She refused to behave like a lovesick fool.

      Forcing herself away from the window, she had just turned when the door opened and Caroline came flouncing into the room.

      ‘What are you doing?’ she asked suspiciously.

      ‘Nothing.’ Georgina felt her cheeks begin to colour at the lie.

      ‘Then why are you blushing?’

      ‘I was looking out the window,’ Georgina said.

      ‘For?’

      ‘For no one. Just looking.’

      For once she wished her friend was a little less astute. It was clear Caroline didn’t believe her and Georgina watched as she crossed to the window and spent thirty seconds peering out.

      ‘There’s no one there,’ she said eventually.

      ‘I know. I told you, I was just looking.’

      ‘Hmm.’

      ‘You looked like you had news,’ Georgina said, deftly changing the subject.

      ‘I do. I’ve been asking around, very discreetly of course, and your Mr Robertson is from Australia,’ Caroline said triumphantly.

      ‘I know.’ Georgina didn’t correct her friend and inform her that Mr Robertson might have recently sailed from Australia, but was actually originally from Hampshire.

      ‘How do you know? Hardly anyone knows anything about him.’

      ‘He told me himself.’

      ‘You’ve seen him again? Already?’

      ‘Don’t look so pleased,’ Georgina groaned. ‘He called on me today, that is all.’

      She left out their meeting in Hyde Park, knowing Caroline would be utterly fascinated and demand every last detail.

      ‘Anyway, he’s not my Mr Robertson.’

      Waving a dismissive hand, Caroline flopped down on the bed. ‘Tell me everything,’ she said dramatically.

      ‘There’s nothing to tell. He came to call, Mother was here, as was Mr Wilcox. We sat and talked for a few minutes, then he left.’

      Georgina didn’t add that she’d found it hard to banish Mr Robertson from her mind ever since his visit, ever since their encounter the previous night.

      ‘Will you see him again?’ Caroline asked.

      ‘I’m sure our paths might cross at some event or another. He is staying with Lady Winston.’

      ‘A relative?’

      ‘No, he’s a friend of her nephew.’

      ‘How wonderful,’ Caroline said dreamily, throwing herself back on to the bed and staring up at the canopy above.

      ‘He is just another acquaintance.’

      ‘So why were you looking for him out your window?’

      ‘I-I wasn’t,’ Georgina protested, but knew her stutter gave her away.