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