Laura Martin - Courting The Forbidden Debutante

‘Why exactly are you so interested in Lord Westchester?’ Lady Winston asked, her face shrewd and her eyes narrowed.

‘It’s probably best you don’t know,’ Sam said, trying to make light of the situation with a grin.

‘You’re probably right,’ Lady Winston said with a sigh. ‘If you’re up to no good, the fewer people know about it the better.’

He was up to no good, but with good reason. Eighteen years ago Sam’s mother had been an assistant cook in the Earl’s household and on occasion took Sam to work with her to help with the odd jobs around the place. He had been accused of stealing Lady Westchester’s emeralds, and although there was no real evidence against him the Earl had used his influence to ensure Sam was convicted and sentenced to be transported to Australia. Soon after he’d started his sentence in one of the filthy hulk ships his mother and sisters had been struck down with a winter fever, meaning Sam not only lost his childhood and life in England, but also the chance to ever see his family again.

The Earl had become the focus of his anger over the years, especially as Sam was convinced he’d been framed by the older man, even though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Now he was back in England with the express purpose of exacting revenge and enacting a plan he’d been building for the past eighteen years.

‘If I have three hours before I may call on Lady Georgina, I think I will go out for a ride.’

Being newly arrived from Australia, none of the men had access to a horse and Lady Winston only kept enough to pull her ornate carriage. However, when she’d received word of their imminent arrival she’d arranged for them to hire a horse each for the couple of months they were planning on spending in London, declaring, ‘No gentleman should be without a horse.’ And no doubt cackling at her loose use of the word gentleman .

‘Don’t forget to change into your finest riding garb,’ Lady Winston called after him as he left the dining room.

Grumbling at the ridiculous way the English seemed to have a different outfit for each activity within the space of the day, he none the less changed into a pair of buckskin breeches, a long jacket and a pair of high riding boots. Although he had the strong urge to not conform with society, he didn’t want to stand out too much before he’d achieved his aim and got close to the Earl.

As he began to climb the stairs to his grand bedroom he found himself thinking of Lady Georgina. She should be nothing more than a necessary step in his plan for revenge, a way to get close to the Earl, but numerous times in the past twelve hours he’d found his thoughts slipping to the curve of her smile, the way her eyes had glimmered in the half-light on the terrace and the beautiful curves of her body. It would be no hardship to spend more time with her, but he had to keep reminding himself to focus. Eighteen years he’d waited for this moment—he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by a woman, even if she was the first woman to hold his interest for a very long time.

With a furtive glance over her shoulder Georgina slipped out the back door and into the yard where Richards, the young groom, was waiting for her. She shouldn’t be out at such an hour, especially after such a late night, but always after a ball she found it impossible to sleep. The music was still ringing in her ears, the sips of champagne still fizzing in her blood and the lights and bright flashes of opulent fabrics filled her mind every time she closed her eyes.

Her mother would no doubt scold her later for not trying to get at least get a few hours of sleep before the first of the visitors came calling. At least she’d stopped reprimanding Richards for accompanying Georgina on her early morning rides, acknowledging the young groom couldn’t do anything to stop the headstrong Georgina and was only accompanying her out of concern for her safety.

With practised ease Georgina pulled herself up into the saddle, preferring to test her own strength and agility rather than rely on a boost from the groom. It was another thing her mother scolded her for, chastising her for being unladylike, but Georgina reasoned you never knew when you would be stuck out on your own somewhere with no man to give you a boost. Being able to mount a horse alone would be a very useful skill.

Secretly she dreamed of adventures where she might go riding off into the wilderness with no groom, no entourage to accompany her. It was an impossible dream, but one she still allowed herself to harbour none the less.

‘Where would you like to go this morning, my lady?’

‘Hyde Park, Richards. We can give the horses a little exercise that way.’

She saw the young groom suppress a groan and had to hide a smile. They would head towards Rotten Row. Normally the popular riding spot was busy with the cream of society riding out for pleasure, dressed in their finest and eager to be seen. At this time in the morning, however, there would be a few other dedicated riders, but mostly grooms exercising their masters’ horses. By mid-morning there was an unwritten rule that you travelled down Rotten Row no faster than a sedate trot, but at eight in the morning no one really cared and often a more adventurous rider would be seen streaking past at a momentous gallop.

As always she took the lead, expertly guiding her horse through the streets until they reached the entrance of the park. Only once they were inside, riding over the familiar paths, did Georgina allow herself to relax. Luckily not many of her suitors had found out about her love of early morning rides through the park. If they did, no doubt she would be inundated with chance meetings and another of her little pleasures would be eaten into by the men who were only pretending to be interested in what she said.

‘Please don’t go too far ahead, my lady,’ Richards called from a few feet behind her.

At the moment they were riding close together, but from experience the young groom knew it was only a matter of time before Georgina leant forward and urged Lady Penelope, her beautiful grey mare, into a gallop and left Richards faltering behind.

Nodding in greeting to the few people out and about this early in the morning, Georgina slowly loosened her grip on the reins, signalling to Lady Penelope to start picking up the pace. As they began first to trot and then to canter Georgina threw her head back and marvelled at the feeling of wind through her hair, wishing she could unfasten it and wear it streaming down her back like a medieval princess.

Rotten Row itself was only just under a mile long and to Georgina it felt like a matter of seconds before she was reining in Lady Penelope to navigate the turn at the end. Richards was a couple of hundred feet behind her and even at this distance Georgina could picture his face, screwed up with concentration and effort. Knowing she shouldn’t be cruel she allowed her speed to fall to a much more sedate pace, giving the sweating groom a few minutes to catch up.

This end of Rotten Row was quieter, with some of the grooms preferring to stick to the Hyde Park Corner end, spending much of their time talking and catching up on the gossip about their masters rather than exerting the horses. However, as she turned, one lone rider was coming up past Richards.

Immediately she felt her body tense. She recognised him from his posture, the way he held himself. Of course he would be at ease on horseback; the man seemed to do everything naturally. Trying to suppress the bubble of pleasure at the thought of meeting Mr Robertson again, she wondered if he had contrived running into her while out riding. It was unlikely, she kept these early morning rides to herself, and it wasn’t as though many ladies in London kept a horse in the city, let alone made a habit of being out riding at such an early hour.