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Nathaniel’s arms tightened around her. ‘Your throat will be sore for a few days yet, but there should be no lasting damage. Don’t speak until you’re able.’
Her blue-tinged lips tightened and she nodded.
He stared down at her for a moment longer, then sprang into action. ‘Freddie, take the girl up on your horse and transport her to Mirabelle. Whoever she is, we cannot leave her here, and the sooner she’s dried and warmed, the better. Wrap your coat around her for the journey.’
His brother nodded, clambered on to his horse and reached down for the woman.
‘I’ll be right behind you.’ And so saying, a shivering Nathaniel Hawke set off across the grass in his wet-stockinged feet to retrieve his boots, his coat and his trusty steed.
It was just as his toes squelched down inside the highly polished leather that he heard the shout.
‘Excuse me, sir. You over there!’
Nathaniel looked up to see a robust grey-haired gentleman waving from the opposite bank. Two well-dressed men hovered at his side.
‘Young man!’ Mr Raithwaite shouted louder still.
‘How may I help you, sir?’ Nathaniel stood tall and, oblivious to his sodden state, executed a small bow in the man’s direction.
Edward Raithwaite peered through the spectacles perched on the end of his nose. ‘Your appearance suggests that you have just suffered an encounter with the river.’
Nathaniel resisted the reply poised so readily upon his tongue. Rather, he pushed his weary shoulders back and affected to be polite. ‘That is indeed the case, sir. Have you an interest in the matter?’
‘Yes, sir,’ the corpulent man replied. ‘I’ve lost my daughter. Silly chit walked too close to the river.’ He glanced towards the young man behind him with blatant irritation. ‘Mr Praxton here tried to help, but unfortunately the water took her before he could pull her out.’
Nathaniel’s gaze sharpened with interest.
The young man pushed forward. ‘Mr Raithwaite’s daughter fell into the river about a mile upstream. Considering your appearance, we wondered if you might have tried to assist the young lady.’ He gripped the older man’s arm. ‘Her father is most distressed.’ Belatedly adding, ‘This is Mr Edward Raithwaite of Andover.’
‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, sir, and can put your mind at ease. I pulled a girl from the river not fifteen minutes ago.’ Nathaniel shrugged into his coat. ‘Suffering from cold and shock, but no worse hurts that I could see.’
Mr Raithwaite’s elderly head sagged and he pressed his hand to his brow. ‘Thank the Lord!’
The handsome man spoke again. ‘We must be sure that it is Miss Raithwaite. Was she dark-haired and slender, wearing a yellow walking dress?’
Something in the tone grated against Nathaniel’s ear. ‘I believe the lady matched your description.’ He eyed the man with disdain and turned to address his further comments to Mr Raithwaite. ‘My brother has taken Miss Raithwaite to Farleigh Hall. It’s situated nearby and she’ll be well tended.’ He climbed upon his horse and looked directly over at the small group of gentlemen. ‘You’re welcome to attend your daughter there, sir.’
Mr Raithwaite nodded and mumbled a reply. ‘Got to see to the ladies first, then I’ll come over.’
‘You sent her to Viscount Farleigh’s residence?’ The voice was curt and heavy with suspicion.
Even Mr Raithwaite turned to look at the man by his side.
‘Indeed.’ Nathaniel raised an enquiring eyebrow.
‘Why?’
Mr Raithwaite cleared his throat and touched a restraining hand to the golden-haired man’s arm. ‘Mr Praxton, don’t worry so. This gentleman means to help us and I believe his actions to be nothing but honourable.’ Turning to Nathaniel, he said by way of explanation, ‘Mr Praxton has a great fondness for my daughter and is concerned for her.’ Then, as if catching himself, ‘Please forgive my manners. These are my friends, Mr Walter Praxton and Mr Julian Battersby-Brown.’
Nathaniel acknowledged the introduction with a quick nod of his head. ‘Nathaniel Hawke, sir.’ He looked directly at Mr Praxton. ‘Viscount Farleigh is my brother.’
‘Lord Hawke!’ Mr Battersby-Brown uttered with reverence.
‘Please excuse me, gentlemen. I’ve an inclination to change my clothing.’ And with that he made off into the distance with some considerable speed.
Georgiana awoke to find herself tucked firmly into a vast four-poster bed. A fire leapt in the hearth and the room was quiet save for the crackles and spits that emitted from its warm golden flames. She remembered her arrival at the house with the fine young gentleman, but thereafter nothing. She wrinkled her brow in concentrated effort, but there was nothing except a haziness to recall. Sitting up, she became aware of the luxurious nightgown draped against her skin and that her hair was now dry, but tumbled around her shoulders. Just as her toes contacted the floor the door positioned in the far corner of the room swung open. In waltzed a petite lady wearing a fashionable dress of blue muslin.
‘Miss Raithwaite, you’re awake. Are you feeling better?’ Without waiting for an answer, the woman wafted towards her in a cloud of fragrant lavender. Her lively cornflower-blue eyes dropped to where the tips of Georgiana’s toes touched upon the carpet. ‘My dearest girl, what can you be thinking of? You must not attempt to get up just now. Doctor Boyd has said that you’re to rest, and rest you shall. You’ve suffered a shock and it’s likely to take you some time to recover.’ The lady chattered on.
Georgiana looked on in mild confusion.
‘Now, pop your feet back beneath those bedcovers and rest against the pillows. I’ll instruct Mrs Tomelty to bring you a little broth.’ She pressed a hand to her mouth in sudden consternation. ‘Oh, but whatever am I thinking of? You’ve not the faintest idea of who I am.’
‘I—’ Georgiana opened her mouth to speak.
‘No, my dear. It’s quite inexcusable of me. I’m Mirabelle Farleigh, wife to the brother of Nathaniel and Frederick, the two gentlemen who rescued you from your most unfortunate incident.’ She smiled sweetly at Georgiana and helped to rearrange the covers upon the great bed. ‘My husband is Henry, Viscount Farleigh.’
‘I must thank you, ma’am, for your kindness and for taking me into your home.’ Georgiana’s voice was husky.
Lady Farleigh’s golden ringlets bounced as she shook her head. ‘Think nothing of it, dear Miss Raithwaite. You’re very welcome.’ Her small pink mouth crinkled into a smile again.
‘You already know my name, ma’am?’ Georgiana’s brow lifted in surprise.
‘But of course, Nathaniel has told us all. And let’s dispense with all this “ma’am-ing”, please call me Mirabelle.’
Georgiana smiled at the small woman before her. ‘Thank you…Mirabelle, and, of course, you must call me Georgiana. But how did you come to know my name? Has my papa—?’
‘Forgive me, my dear.’ Lady Farleigh interrupted. ‘I’m ahead of myself as usual. Let me retell the story in full just as Nathaniel did.’
‘That would be very kind. Thank you, Mirabelle.’ Georgiana’s eyebrow twitched slightly, but she made no further comment as she leaned back against the pillows and prepared to listen.
Mirabelle settled herself into a chair close by the bed. ‘I had just visited baby Richard in the nursery when—’
A brisk knock rapped and not one, but two, gentlemen entered the bedroom.
Georgiana pulled the bedcovers higher to meet her chin and eyed them with suspicion.
Lady Farleigh gave a squeak of delight. ‘Nathaniel, Freddie! You’ve come to check upon poor Miss Raithwaite! What impeccable timing you have. I was just about to explain all about Nathaniel’s meeting with Mr Raithwaite, but now that you’re here I’ll leave all that to you. Miss Raithwaite is positively agog to know how we came to discover her name.’
An uncharitable thought popped into Georgiana’s mind.
Would Lord Nathaniel, whichever of the two men he happened to be, be able to squeeze a word in edgeways in the presence of the effusive Mirabelle? And then she had the grace to blush at her quite appalling lapse.
Nathaniel Hawke looked at the subtle play of emotions flitting so clearly across Miss Raithwaite’s surprisingly fine features. Curiosity followed suspicion, guilt trailed humour. Mirabelle’s chatter allowed him to study the girl with her pale skin and expressive eyes. Her long ebony-coloured hair splashed its dark luxury against the stark white of the nightgown, sweeping down to hang as two heavy curtains. Nathaniel experienced an urge to tangle his fingers in it. She was young, and a lady to boot. Two very good reasons why he should resist the compelling physical attraction he felt towards her.
Mirabelle had paused in her introductions and was pushing him forward with pride. ‘Nathaniel really is quite the hero despite his protestations.’
The grey-blue eyes glanced up to meet his…and stopped.
‘Miss Raithwaite, I’m glad to see that you’re somewhat recovered from your ordeal.’ He held her gaze, and smiled.
Georgiana’s mouth suddenly felt dry, and the room hot. Indeed, her cheeks burned uncommonly warm. ‘Sir,’ she managed to croak at the man standing before her. She owed him her life, of that she was certain. It was his strong arms that had pulled her from the river, his courage that had saved her from a watery grave. Those same dark eyes that had held such concern on the riverbank were now regarding her with amusement. The hair that had hung in sodden strands now sprang in mahogany-coloured curls around his rugged face. She should have proclaimed her gratitude from the very rooftops. But Miss Raithwaite, who had been raised to behave with the utmost decorum, suddenly found that it had deserted her, along with every other rational thought. For Lord Nathaniel Hawke was having a most peculiar effect upon her sensibilities. And she was certain that she did not care at all for such a situation.
The wicked smile crooked upon his face deepened as if he sensed the riot of emotion that roared within her. Dear Lord, surely he could do no such thing? The mere thought heightened the intensity of the two rosy patches glowing upon her otherwise pale cheeks. She cleared her raw throat and struggled to regain some measure of composure. ‘I’m very grateful to you.’ She glanced towards Lord Frederick standing further back. ‘I wouldn’t be here if it were not for you.’
Freddie smiled and stepped closer. ‘It was Nathaniel who went into the water to save you. My part was relatively minor in the whole affair.’ He looked towards his brother.
‘And where would both Miss Raithwaite and I be without your presence on the bridge?’ Nathaniel demanded. ‘I won’t take the credit for your part in the rescue.’ Turning once more to the girl, he offered an explanation. ‘Freddie pulled us from the water. Indeed, we both owe him our lives.’
Freddie’s face coloured in pleasure and he mumbled, ‘Nonsense.’
It seemed that Nathaniel was determined to share the glory.
‘Thank you both.’ Miss Raithwaite smiled shyly.
Freddie’s cheeks grew redder.
So his brother had noticed Miss Raithwaite’s attributes. The girl was undeniably fetching, but as the daughter of the owner of several coaching inns, she was strictly off limits to both of them. Neither marriageable material nor otherwise. He had best have a word with Freddie.
‘Miss Raithwaite,’ he continued, ‘before leaving Hurstborne Park I had the good fortune to meet your father and his companions. Naturally they were concerned about you, and I reassured them of your safety. Your family know that you’re here and will call as soon as possible.’
‘Oh,’ Georgiana Raithwaite said in a small voice. The memory of Mr Praxton’s outrageous actions appeared with clarity. Having survived the river, she now felt that her biggest ordeal was yet to come. Just for a moment a look of horror and desperation flitted across her face before she masked it once more with polite indifference. ‘Thank you, my lord, you’re most kind.’ She settled her wounded hands together in a demure gesture. Only Nathaniel noticed just how white her knuckles shone.
Nathaniel Hawke swirled the brandy around the finely engraved balloon glass. ‘Our Miss Raithwaite didn’t seem to regard being reunited with her family as entirely favourable. Did you see the expression upon her face when I mentioned her father?’
‘Mmm.’ Freddie regarded him quizzically as he lounged back in the winged chair. ‘You think there’s more to the matter than meets the eye?’
‘Perhaps. We shall discover soon enough.’
Gravel crunched from the drive and a carriage emptying its passengers sounded through the library window.
‘Mr Raithwaite,’ Freddie said distractedly. ‘Georgiana’s a fine-looking girl, don’t you think?’
Nathaniel’s face became somewhat grim. ‘Don’t get drawn down that line, little brother. There’s no dalliance to be had there. Miss Raithwaite is a coaching-inn owner’s daughter, albeit a wealthy one. Our father would most heartily disapprove, and you don’t want to risk becoming as black a sheep as me.’ He twitched an eyebrow, and offered an imitation of the Earl of Porchester’s voice, ‘Think of the scandal, dear boy, the scandal.’
Laughing, the brothers departed the library and went to meet Mr Edward Raithwaite.
Georgiana’s back scarcely felt the soft plumpness of the pillows supporting it. Nor did she notice the cosy warmth of the finely-stitched quilt covering the length of her body. Mirabelle had lent her a dressing gown and sent her own maid to dress her hair so that she might feel more comfortable with receiving visitors. But none of the small woman’s kindness could obliterate the uneasy feeling in the pit of Georgiana’s stomach. She stretched a smile upon her mouth and turned to face her stepfather.
‘Georgiana, thank goodness you’re safe and well. Your poor mother is distraught with worry. She’s taken the headache and been forced to bed,’ Mr Raithwaite chided his stepdaughter, but his relief was plain for all to see.
‘Poor Mama, I didn’t mean to worry her.’
‘Quite so, quite so.’ He nodded. ‘I dread to think 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.
