Ann Lethbridge - Regency Society

If Georgie was involved with these people, he would be best to stay close to her. His instincts told him that she was innocent—and yet she had decoded the message in the poetry book. It was that first clue that had been instrumental in alerting other members of the intelligence service that a plot was afoot. He believed that the near-fatal attack on him had been because of his involvement in the affair, but he had not seen the face of his attacker for it had been covered by a muffler and only a pair of cold eyes had been visible.

Looking into those eyes briefly, Richard had known that his life was in the balance. It was merely the sound of approaching voices that made his attacker run off before his work was done. From somewhere he had found the strength to stumble the few yards to his home, and Henderson had done the rest…with the girl’s help.

Richard frowned. If his manservant were to be believed, Georgie had done well. He’d never had cause to doubt Henderson and must therefore be grateful to her for her contribution, and she was certainly entitled to the benefit of the doubt.

Richard knew that he had been feverish, and wondered what he had said in his muddled state. Had he mentioned his work for the government…or had he spoken of more intimate things? He knew that in the fever he had thought of Justin, his cousin. He felt the sharp grief strike at his heart, because the memories were still painful. Justin had been clever, a bright future his for the asking, but he had been led astray, his mind corrupted by opium and wine. He had sunk lower and lower, beyond the reach of his studious father, until at the last they destroyed him…those evil men who had drawn him into a web of bitter despair.

Richard had been away fighting and had known nothing of it until he returned. At his uncle’s behest he had gone looking for the cousin he loved as a brother, but when he found him it had been too late. Justin had been living in squalor, lying amongst his own filth in a disgusting house, his mind destroyed, his body wasting with a disease that could not be cured. Richard had taken him to a place of safety, staying by him until the last, holding him as he choked on his own blood. The memory haunted him, would never leave him. It had made him the man he was, harsh, stern, living only for his work.

The girl was an interruption, nothing more. Yet she had touched something that had been dead, something deep inside. For a moment as she stood there smiling down at him, he had wished that he had the strength to take her in his arms and kiss her until those wonderful eyes turned smoky with desire. It was ridiculous, for, even had she not been a lady, he was as weak as a kitten. However, she had stirred his heart in a way that no one had for years—and he found that he could not simply desert her.

He sighed and closed his eyes.

There was nothing much he could do for the moment. It would be a few days at the least before he could think of getting up, let alone taking a long journey.

Chapter Three

‘But that is so silly,’ Georgie said, looking mutinously at Mrs Jensen. ‘Why will you not allow me to carry that tray up to Captain Hernshaw? I have nothing else to do and I am sure you have other jobs you could be doing.’

‘The master says it is not fitting that a young lady should wait on him in his bedchamber, and I agree with him, miss.’

Georgie scowled at her and walked away, finding her way to the front parlour where she usually sat unless she joined Henderson in the servants’ hall below stairs. He had taken pity on her a few times these past days, playing cards with her to help pass the time. But he was often busy with his duties, and since Georgie had been banned from her host’s bedchamber she was feeling bored and frustrated. More than once she had considered leaving this house and setting out on her own, but the lack of funds meant she would need to walk all the way to Yorkshire, which she knew was impossible, or hitch a ride—and that was too dangerous.

‘Oh, damn him,’ Georgie muttered. She wandered round the room at a loss for something to do, and ended up standing in front of the window. As she glanced down into the street, she saw a man crossing the road towards the house and flinched back. Was he coming here? Did he know she was staying here? Surely he couldn’t?

She felt a thrill of horror as the knocker sounded. He was coming here! She opened the parlour door and listened, poised for flight and hearing the sound of Jensen’s voice as the man inquired for Captain Hernshaw.

‘I am sorry, sir,’ Jensen said. ‘Captain Hernshaw is not available at the moment. If you would like to leave your card, I shall tell him you called.’

‘Very well. You may tell your master that I shall hope to hear from him. Good day.’

‘Good morning, sir.’

Georgie crept to the top of the stairs as Jensen placed the calling card on a silver salver on the hall table. He went off to the rear of the house and she ran down the stairs, picking up the card. She read the few words printed there: Raoul Thierry of Westbury House, Thraxton Morton, Yorkshire. On the back were scrawled the words: ‘We may be of some use to each other if we could meet, Thierry.’

What could he want with Captain Hernshaw? Had he learned that Georgie was staying here? She frowned over the card and then slipped it into the pocket of the jacket she was wearing. She dare not take the risk that he would come here to meet Captain Hernshaw while she was here. She would keep the card for now and give it to Captain Hernshaw when he delivered her to her great-aunt’s house.

Georgie went quickly up to her own room. She glanced at herself in the small mirror on the dressing chest, her melting brown eyes wide and fearful. Henderson had found her some clothing that fitted her much better than Captain Hernshaw’s. She looked like a very young boy until she took her cap off, letting her luxuriant hair tumble down over her shoulders. She knew that anyone who saw her dressed this way would think her shameless. She was slender and the short buff-coloured coat covered her breasts, which would otherwise have given the game away, but when she took it off they were noticeable beneath the soft linen. It was after she had wandered into the captain’s bedroom looking like this that he had banned her from visiting him.

‘Have you lost all sense of modesty, Georgie?’ he had asked, sounding annoyed. ‘Dressed like that with your hair loose—it is too provocative and not the attire for a gentleman’s bedchamber, even if he is still as weak as a kitten.’

The look he had given her then had made Georgie blush. She had replaced her cap, but the ban had not been rescinded. She was barred from visiting him in his bedchamber and as yet he had not attempted to come out, though it was more than a week.

How much longer would he be confined to his bed? Her restlessness had increased since catching sight of the visitor that morning. She thought that Captain Hernshaw did not know him, for he had not reacted to the name when she mentioned it, though it was obvious that Raoul Thierry wanted to meet him. It was imperative that they did not meet until after Georgie had reached her great-aunt’s house!

How much longer must she stay here! If only he would lend her enough money to pay for her fare, but she knew that it was useless to ask. He was determined not to let her go alone and so she had no choice but to wait for him to recover.

Some days later, Georgie was curled in a large wing chair when the door opened and she sensed someone looking at her. She glanced up, her heart jerking as she saw Captain Hernshaw. He looked as powerful as ever, his strong shoulders clothed in a coat that fitted him closely, his breeches pale and elegant with only a slight thickening at the thigh to show that he had recently been wounded and still wore a bandage.