‘I have tried to be sensible for both our sakes,’ Richard said. ‘I may be killed…anything could happen…’

He reached out for her, his hands taking her by the arms. For a moment he stared at her, his face working as he tried to suppress his feelings. He was in no position to form an attachment! He groaned, lowering his head to kiss her.

As his mouth covered hers in a hungry, demanding kiss, Georgie shivered, resisting for one moment before melting against him.

He drew back, looking down at her. ‘I am not made of ice, Georgie, though you may think it. Seeing you dressed as a youth…being with you in that carriage…I have wanted to do this for so long. Wanted more! You must know that I am deeply attracted to you?’

‘Richard…you seemed to shut me out…’ Georgie’s head was spinning because everything had changed so suddenly.

‘And I should. I must,’ he said, releasing her, his face twisting with emotion. ‘I had no right to kiss you like that, Georgie. I am not free. There are things I must do—things I have done—that make this impossible. I want you, desire you as any normal man would, but I cannot ask you to be my wife.’

Anne Herries, winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association ROMANCE PRIZE 2004, lives in Cambridgeshire. She is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers.

Recent novels by the same author:

THE UNKNOWN HEIR

A DAMNABLE ROGUE*

MARIANNE AND THE MARQUIS†

MARRIED BY CHRISTMAS†

MARRYING CAPTAIN JACK†

*Winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association ROMANCE PRIZE †The Horne Sisters

and in the Regency series The Steepwood Scandal:

LORD RAVENSDEN’S MARRIAGE

COUNTERFEIT EARL

and in The Hellfire Mysteries:

AN IMPROPER COMPANION

A WEALTHY WIDOW

A WORTHY GENTLEMAN

Author Note

When Captain Richard Hernshaw has an important package stolen from him in the back alleys of London, he gives chase and catches the urchin. Instead of handing him over to the law, however, he takes Georgie off to a decent inn and feeds him. Richard is in for a series of shocks before the night is out—not least the discovery that Georgie isn’t exactly what he thought. They are plunged into an adventure that may bring danger to them both, and happiness seems far off for THE HOMELESS HEIRESS.

I hope you will enjoy this tale of Regency fun and games as much as I enjoyed writing it for you!

THE HOMELESS HEIRESS

Anne Herries

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Chapter One

Captain Richard Hernshaw paused, glanced back into the menacing darkness of the narrow alley behind him and frowned. He was being followed. The instinct he had acquired over several years working for the British government as a secret agent was on full alert. He knew that he had taken a risk by agreeing to meet his contact here in the rookery of these terrible slum streets, but the man would not dare to show his face elsewhere, for he was a rogue and perhaps worse. The meeting had gone well and Richard had what he’d come for, but, since leaving his contact, he had picked up a shadow. The question was—who was following him and why?

He needed to know the answer to that question, because of the papers he was carrying, which were important and could hold the answer to a mystery that he and other colleagues had been investigating in recent times. It was feared that an attempt on the lives of several prominent men in the government, even that of the Regent himself, was being prepared, and Richard believed that the names of the ringleaders were in the documents he carried inside his coat pocket. If the person following him knew that he had them, he might be in danger—of losing both the papers and his life.

Better to attack than be attacked! Richard turned the corner, and pressed his back against the wall, waiting for whoever it was to catch up with him. His suspicions were proved correct, for an instant later a small, dark shadow came hurtling round the corner. He stepped out, and grabbed the rascal’s arm, gripping it tightly.

‘Let me go!’ a voice cried in a tone halfway between anger and fear. ‘Watcha think yer doin’?’

‘That is exactly what I was about to ask you,’ Richard said, his gaze narrowing as he looked down at the rather grubby face of a street urchin. He smiled as he saw the indignant look in the youth’s eyes. ‘You have been following me for a while now, lad. I don’t like being followed unless I know why.’

The youth rubbed his hand under his nose and sniffed hard. ‘Weren’t doin’no ’arm, sir,’ he said defiantly. ‘Let me go or I’ll kick yer!’

‘You would be sorry if you did,’ Richard replied. He hesitated, his hold slackening a little as he considered. A lad like this might be after his purse, but he was far from the sinister enemy he had imagined. A smile was beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth when the youth lunged at him, kicked him in the shins and wrenched free, setting off at a run back the way he had come. ‘Damn you!’

Richard realised instantly that he had been robbed. The boy’s hand had gone inside his jacket, removing the package he was carrying seconds before the toe of his boot connected with Richard’s leg and caused him to loosen his hold enough for the lad to break free. He felt a surge of annoyance—how could he have fallen for a trick like that?

Richard yelled and set off after the boy at once. He was angry that he had been so careless, but there had been something almost angelic in the boy’s face and he had been lulled into a sense of false security. Damned fool! It was the oldest trick in the book, using a boy to take your enemy off guard. He could see the lad ahead of him, running for all he was worth. He moved fast, but Richard was a match for him, his longer legs and superior strength making it inevitable that he would catch the boy. And then fortune stepped in. In his haste, the lad had not seen the rubbish on the pavement. As his foot touched the rotting filth left there by some careless trader, his heel slid and his legs suddenly went from under him, sending him tumbling into the gutter. He was getting to his feet when Richard arrived, clearly none the worse for his tumble.

‘Watcha want ter make me do that fer?’ he complained bitterly. ‘I ain’t done nuthin’, sir. Honest I ain’t.’

‘You stole something from me,’ Richard said, holding out his hand. ‘Give it back and don’t try another stunt like that or you will get a good hiding. Do you hear me?’ His strong hands hauled the youth to his feet. He gave him a little shake. ‘Did you hear what I said, boy?’

‘Me name’s Georgie,’ the lad said and sniffled. ‘I ain’t ’ad nuthin’ ter eat fer days. I only wanted a few coins. If yer hadn’t grabbed me, I wouldn’t ’ave done it.’

‘Indeed?’ Richard’s eyebrows rose as he looked at the lad. ‘Georgie, is it? Well, Georgie, had you asked I might have given you a shilling, but you deserve that I should hand you over to the law…’

The lad produced the package, holding it out to Richard, who took it and replaced it in his coat pocket. The seal was still intact. It would have meant little to anyone who did not have the code and was able to decipher it, but he could not be sure the lad was not working for someone.

‘Let me go, sir,’ Georgie said, putting on the wheedling tone again. ‘I swear I’ve never done nuthin’ like that afore and I’m hungry…’ He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. ‘I didn’t mean no ’arm…’

‘What you meant was to steal from me,’ Richard replied with a stern look. ‘But I have the packet back and, if you are truly hungry, I shall feed you.’

‘Give me a shilling, sir, and I’ll trouble you no more.’ Georgie’s hand shot out.

Richard was on the point of putting his hand into his pocket when something made him hesitate. There was something about the urchin that did not ring true, though for the moment he could not place it.

‘I’ll not give you money,’ he said. ‘But I shall feed you. We’ll go to an inn I know. Not here. I don’t trust the service in these drinking dens. I’ll take you somewhere we can both enjoy a meal.’

The lad hesitated and for a moment Richard thought he would try to run away, but then he shrugged his shoulders. ‘All right, if that’s what yer want, sir.’

‘Come with me then,’ Richard said, taking hold of his arm. ‘And don’t try to run away, Georgie—no funny tricks, do you hear? This package is important to me, but it would be of no use to you. Try stealing from me again and I shall not be as forgiving next time.’

‘Don’t go on about it,’ the lad said, glaring at him. ‘And you’re hurting my arm. I shan’t run orf. I give yer my word.’

There was a touch of unconscious pride about the lad then that alerted Richard’s suspicions. Somehow he was certain that Georgie—if that was his name—was not an ordinary street urchin. There was more here than met the eye. He slackened his hold of the lad’s arm a little, but made sure it was sufficient to bind him to him as they left the last of the mean streets behind. The lighting here was better, and, glancing at the boy’s profile, Richard knew that his suspicions were right. Just what had he discovered here? If he knew anything at all, this lad had not been born to these poor streets of the London slum. Was he a runaway from school or a tyrant father? He was almost certain that the accent was a sham, for it had slipped once or twice. Just what was Georgie up to?

‘Where do you go to school?’ he asked.

‘Don’t go,’ the lad replied. ‘Ain’t never bin, sir.’

He was not telling the truth; Richard’s instinct never lied. His curiosity deepened. The boy was clearly very young, and, despite what he had done, Richard felt it his duty to try to help him if it were possible. He knew only too well to what depths of degradation some unfortunates were forced to sink in these stinking alleys. A grim expression dwelled briefly in his eyes as he remembered. He would not think of that now! It was behind him. He had buried himself deep in his work to forget and he would not allow that past tragedy to haunt him.

The lights of a respectable inn were just ahead of them, a lantern shedding a bright yellow glow over the pavement. More lanterns lit the archway that led behind to the inn yard, but Richard headed for the main door. He felt Georgie’s hesitation, the slight resistance, and looked down.

‘There’s nothing to fear here, Georgie. You may not be used to such places, but we shall be served, never fear.’

‘I ain’t frightened,’ the lad replied. ‘You don’t need ter hang on to me any longer. I shan’t run away. I ain’t frightened of yer no more. Besides, I’m starving!’

‘Well, they serve decent food here,’ Richard replied. He glanced at the lad’s face as they went inside. Now he could see the delicate profile and the pale complexion. Georgie was very slight and he found it difficult to assess his age. At first he had thought him a child of perhaps twelve or thirteen. His height was below Richard’s shoulder and he had felt the thinness of the lad’s body as he held him after he slipped on the rubbish. Looking at his face in the light, he thought now that the lad must be older—fifteen, perhaps.

‘Yes, sir?’ The host came bustling up to them, a smile on his face that dimmed somewhat as he saw the boy. ‘Captain Hernshaw, isn’t it? I believe I’ve had the honour of serving you before, sir?’

‘On a couple of occasions,’ Richard replied easily, ignoring the host’s expression. ‘You serve excellent chops, landlord, and a good pie. My young friend here is hungry and so am I. We shall have the best of whatever you have on offer this evening.’

‘Yes, sir. Would you be wanting the parlour, sir?’

Richard hesitated. He sensed tension in his companion and wondered what the lad could be thinking. ‘Yes, Goodridge. We shall have the parlour, if you will spare it to us.’

‘Just as you wish, sir. Will you want wine or ale?’

‘You may bring me some wine,’ Richard said. ‘Do you have any cordial that you might prepare for the boy? He is my groom’s lad and he has been helping me with the horses. I am afraid he has got himself into something of a state.’

‘Ah.’ The innkeeper nodded as he was enlightened, relief in his eyes. ‘Boys will be boys, sir.’

Georgie eyed him resentfully as they went into the private parlour, but said nothing until the innkeeper had left, shutting the door behind him.

‘Whatcha want ter say that fer?’

‘I thought it best to concoct some tale lest our host imagined something for himself. I do not wish to acquire a reputation for molesting young boys.’ Richard smiled wryly. ‘In case you had some such suspicion yourself, you may rest easy that my tastes do not lie in that direction.’

‘Oh…’ Georgie’s dark eyes studied his face for a moment, searching, all too wise and yet naïve at the same time. ‘I didn’t think it. I’ve met that sort afore and you ain’t. I’ll vouch for it if he turns up rough.’

‘Thank you,’ Richard said, a note of sarcasm in his voice. ‘If I need your help, I shall ask for it.’

‘No need to be so superior,’ Georgie said. ‘I was just offering…’

‘Thank you,’ Richard replied, a slight smile on his lips. Something in Georgie’s manner at that moment had confirmed what he had been thinking for a while now. This was no street urchin! He wasn’t sure why Georgie had tried to steal from him or why he was living rough, as he clearly was from his appearance. There was dirt on the delicate features and the lad’s clothes were disgusting. He smelled unpleasant! ‘I think we should call a truce, don’t you—just for long enough to eat our supper.’

Georgie didn’t answer but went to the fire, standing in front of it and holding his hands to the flames. He rubbed them together, shivering as if he had just realised how cold it was outside, but he did not speak. He continued to look into the flames when the door opened, admitting the innkeeper’s wife and a maid with two large trays filled with plates of food.

‘Come and eat, boy,’ Richard said. ‘This food smells delicious.’

The lad turned, stood looking at the food for a moment and then came to the table. He sat down on the bench, reaching for a plate of lamb chops. He took one and began to eat it with his fingers, tearing at the tender meat with his teeth—very white teeth for a street urchin, Richard noticed! He ate that chop and reached for another, demolishing that in much the same way, and licking the fat from his fingers—slender, delicate fingers.

‘That’s enough,’ Richard said when the second chop had gone down in a hurry. ‘Eat properly now and slower. If you haven’t eaten for days, it will make you sick if you stuff too much down at once. Try some of the pork pie. It is delicious.’ He cut a slice for himself, putting some pickles on to his plate and breaking a bit of the bread.

Georgie watched and then did the same. He began to eat small pieces of pie with a little relish, buttering his bread. He had small, smooth hands, Richard noticed. Now that he was eating properly he appeared to have table manners too. He sipped his lime cordial and appeared to have no fault to find with the taste.

Richard smiled inwardly. The lad had come from a good home. What had caused him to flee that home for a life on the streets he could not tell, but thought it would be worth discovering. When Georgie put down his knife and sat back, clearly having eaten his fill, Richard drank a little of his wine and observed in silence for a moment.

‘Better?’ he asked at last. His brows arched as the boy nodded. ‘Want to tell me about it?’

‘Whatcha mean?’ A look of uncertainty came into the lad’s eyes.

‘Your accent is false,’ Richard said. ‘You don’t always use slang and it slips from time to time. I don’t think you were reared in the slums, George. So where have you come from and why?’

‘You really want to know?’ The boy looked at him oddly. ‘Why?’

‘Because I should like to help you if I can. A life of thieving is not for a lad like you. I think you have run away from your home or your school—why?’

‘I ran away from—’ Georgie said and caught his breath. ‘I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t believe me.’ He got to his feet abruptly. ‘Thanks for the food…’

Richard stuck out his leg, preventing the lad from passing. ‘Sit down and tell me the truth.’

‘No! You can’t make me…’ Georgie tried to push past. Richard leapt to his feet and grabbed him. As he did so, Georgie’s disreputable cap came off and long dark locks came tumbling down, framing a face that now looked decidedly feminine. Richard gave a grim nod of satisfaction. He had thought something was wrong! This was no fragile lad but a girl! ‘Oh…’ Georgie put up her hand, trying frantically to hide her hair, giving a very unladylike oath. ‘Damn it! I thought you promised to let me go…’

‘And I may—if you give me a satisfactory answer. Who are you and what were you doing in that slum?’

She hesitated for a moment and then gave a reluctant sigh. ‘My name is Georgie Brown and I worked as a lady’s maid,’ she said, sitting down again. ‘I ran away from my place because my lady’s son would not stop pestering me. He kept trying to kiss me and…well, I couldn’t stay there any longer so I took some old clothes and ran off.’

‘Surely you had family who would have taken you in?’ Georgie shook her head. He arched his brow. ‘Friends? Another employer?’

‘I couldn’t ask for a reference, because she would have blamed me…she wouldn’t have given me one…’ Georgie’s eyes dropped, her hand clenching nervously in her lap. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to be at the mercy of—’ She broke off on a choked sob.

Richard’s gaze narrowed. ‘Why live on the streets and try to steal from people? Surely you cannot want to live this way?’

Georgie sniffed, a suspicion of tears in her eyes, but she was obviously trying not to cry. ‘I had some money, but it was stolen from me the first day I got to London. I thought I could find myself a job and I had enough money to live decently for a while, but…’ The tears were trickling down her cheek despite her efforts to stop them. She rubbed the sleeve of her disreputable jacket over her face, streaking the dirt. ‘After my purse was stolen, I did not know what to do and no one would give me money or food.’

‘So you thought you would turn to pickpocketing for a living?’ Richard smiled oddly. ‘Unfortunately, you chose me for your first victim—or was I the first?’

‘I stole some fruit from a stall and…and a kerchief from an elderly gentleman, which I sold…’ Her cheeks were uncomfortably red now. ‘Don’t look at me like that! I was hungry!’

‘Yes, you were,’ Richard agreed, watching her face thoughtfully. He wasn’t certain that she was telling him the whole truth even now, but he was prepared to go along with it for the moment. ‘Are you sure you have no family? If they live in the country, I could help you get there.’

Georgie hesitated for a moment and then shook her head. She had bundled her long hair back under her cap and her tears had dried. ‘Let me go now. You gave me supper, but you promised to let me go.’

‘I have no hold on you,’ Richard said. ‘But I know someone who might take you in. She is elderly and needs someone to look after her—and she might take you for my sake.’

‘I’ll be all right.’ Georgie eyed him suspiciously, clearly not quite trusting him. ‘I’m not sure.’

‘Well, I am leaving,’ he replied. Getting up from the table, he threw some coins down for the serving wench. ‘You can come with me or find your own way…it’s your choice.’

Georgie didn’t answer, though he noticed that she followed him from the room, waiting a few feet away as he paid the host for their supper. Richard refrained from looking at her as he went out of the inn, standing for a moment under the street lantern, its smoky light spilling a yellow pool on the pavement. Some gentlemen were approaching the inn as he turned away, feeling the press of Georgie’s body suddenly, as she appeared to take shelter from something or someone. He said nothing until they had left the inn behind them, but he noticed that she looked back over her shoulder several times, seeming nervous.

‘What is it?’ he asked a short time later. ‘What frightened you after we left the inn?’

Georgie hesitated. ‘Did you mean it when you said you would help me get to the country?’

‘I never say what I don’t mean.’

‘Then will you—please? I have to leave London. I can’t stay now…’ She took a deep breath, her eyes filled with a silent appeal. ‘Please help me. I’m frightened…’

‘Yes, I can see that,’ Richard replied and frowned. She hadn’t been frightened earlier, but she was now. ‘Do you want to tell me why?’

Georgie shook her head, saying nothing. Richard sensed that he was being drawn into something that would cause him a great deal of trouble he could do without and yet there was an unconscious appeal in those eyes that tugged at his heartstrings, reminding him of something…someone else. He had failed that person through no real fault of his own, but he would not let that happen again.

‘Very well, I’ll take you with me,’ he said, reaching a decision. ‘I’ll give you a place to sleep and some decent clothes and then we’ll see. If I’m going to help you, you have to trust me. I promise you I shan’t harm you, but I can’t help you either—unless you tell me the truth.’ He sighed as he saw her face close down. She wasn’t ready to trust him yet. ‘Well, keep your secrets for the moment, child. You will at least sleep in a decent bed this night, and perhaps tomorrow you may feel like telling me the real story.’

Georgie glanced at the stern profile of the man walking beside her. He was tall and strong, his face attractive rather than handsome and just at the moment he looked annoyed. She supposed he was within his rights to be angry with her, because she had kicked him in the shins and she had stolen that packet from him. Most men would have cuffed her round the ear or sent for the watchman, but he had taken her to a decent inn and fed her. On the face of it he seemed trustworthy, but Georgie had learned in a hard school and she knew that people were often not what they seemed. She wanted to trust him, needed to be able to trust someone, because the last two weeks of living rough had shown her that she wasn’t very good at looking after herself.

She hadn’t thought much about what she was doing when she ran away. In her innocence she had thought it would be easy to fend for herself for a while—just until she thought about what she ought to do next—but losing her purse the very first day had changed everything. She had been so naïve, taking her money out to pay for food and just holding the purse loosely by the strings rather than tucking it away again. The man who had snatched it had been so quick that she had had no idea of his intention and he was away with it before she could recover from the shock. Since then she had been roaming the streets, wondering how she could earn or steal enough money to survive, and she had been desperate when she saw him…Captain Hernshaw, the innkeeper had called him.

What kind of a man was he? Georgie wondered. He looked like a military man, and, considering his title, he probably was—but he was nothing like the officers she had met in the past. There was something hard and wary about him, an air of being alert at all times…and the look in his eyes could send shivers down her spine. One part of her was telling her she ought to run now while she had the chance, because he would make a bad enemy and when he discovered she had lied to him he would be angry. But she’d seen him when they left the inn and it had sent shock waves through her, because she knew what would happen if he found her.

She had shrunk closer to the side of the man she had felt her protector, her fear very real until they were well away from him. Should she confess the whole truth to Captain Hernshaw, throw herself on his mercy and trust in him to help her? He was a stranger to her! If he knew the truth, he might try to take advantage. It was difficult to know who she could trust…if indeed she could trust anyone.

Georgie shivered. They were approaching a row of terraced houses in an elegant square. At least it was a respectable address, a place where she might be able to hide for a few days while she recovered her strength and took stock of her situation. She stayed close to her protector as he rapped at the door, which was opened by a gentleman of advanced years dressed in discreet black.

‘Ah, there you are, sir.’ The faded blue eyes flicked to Georgie’s face, but he gave no sign of curiosity. ‘You are early this evening, Captain Hernshaw.’

‘Yes, Jensen,’ Richard replied with a faint smile. ‘As you say I am early, though I may go out again later. Has Mrs Jensen retired yet?’

‘No, sir. She is in her sitting room. Shall I tell her that you require her services?’

‘She may attend me in the front parlour at her convenience. I wish to place this young lad under her care.’

‘Young lad in her care?’ For a moment Jensen’s face froze, but in seconds he had recovered. ‘Yes, of course, sir. I shall tell Mrs Jensen immediately. Is there anything else you require, sir?’

‘Well done, Jensen,’ Richard said and Georgie saw a gleam of appreciation in his eyes. ‘Nothing throws you, does it? No, I require nothing further. It is my intention to go out again once I have this small matter in hand.’

‘Just as you say, sir.’

The manservant went off. Georgie followed her protector into a parlour of medium proportions. It was furnished with heavy mahogany pieces that gave it a stately air, rather ponderous and definitely the home of a man who lived alone. There were cabinets filled with objects that looked to be of a scientific nature made of brass or steel, and two large globes on stands were placed one at either side of the window. A desk stood beneath the window, so that the light fell on it, and was cluttered with what looked like old pieces of bone to Georgie.

‘Are you a scientist?’ she asked, looking at her rescuer curiously.

‘No, but my uncle was,’ Richard replied. ‘He left this house to me and I have done nothing with it, as you see. Uncle Frederick never married. He left me his estate because I was his favourite and—’ He broke off, a look of pain in his eyes. ‘I shared some of his interests at one time, but I have been away for some years.’

‘Oh…’ Georgie picked up one of the pieces of what she now saw were fossils. ‘What is this?’

‘A part of the thigh bone of a dinosaur,’ Richard replied. ‘My uncle studied fossils of all kinds. I have no particular interest in bones myself, but I hardly ever use this house, except when I stay in town. I prefer the country and of course I have been away.’ He frowned at her. Here in the brighter lights of his house, he saw that she looked older than he’d first imagined, not truly a child. ‘You can’t be interested in any of this. Will you not tell me who you really are and why you ran away?’

‘I…’ Georgie began. She was still uncertain whether to trust him with the whole story and was relieved when someone knocked at the door. She saw his quick frown, but he did not hesitate.

‘Come in, Mrs Jensen.’

An elderly woman entered. She was plump, white-haired and looked approachable, though a little surprised and anxious. It was obvious that she did not know what to make out of the tale her husband had clearly been telling her.

‘There was something I can do for you, sir?’

‘Yes, Mrs Jensen,’ Richard replied. ‘I want you to help this young lad. He is in some trouble and I have rescued him and brought him here for his safety. He has eaten, but needs to bathe and requires more suitable clothes and a bed of his own to sleep in. Do you think you can help me out please, Dora?’

‘Yes, of course, sir.’ Dora Jensen gave him a look of such adoration that Georgie knew at once that the woman had known Captain Hernshaw many years and trusted him completely. ‘The poor little mite. I’ll take him away now, shall I, sir?’

‘Yes, if you please.’ He turned to Georgie. ‘Dora was my uncle’s housekeeper for many years, and we have known each other since I was in short coat s. She will look after you, Georgie. I have to go out again on business, but I shall see you in the morning. We shall talk further then.’

‘Yes…thank you,’ Georgie said, giving him an uncertain smile. ‘You have been…kind.’

He nodded to her, but made no further comment. Georgie saw the housekeeper was looking at her expectantly and she went to her dutifully, following her from the room and up the stairs.

‘We always keep a couple of rooms ready in case the captain decides to invite a guest to stay, though he doesn’t trouble us much,’ Mrs Jensen told her as she looked back, making certain Georgie was just behind her. ‘I often say to Jensen that things hardly changed when the old gentleman died.’

‘Was that Mr Frederick Hernshaw?’

‘Sir Frederick,’ Mrs Jensen corrected. ‘He was a gentleman of learning, quiet and scholarly. He sometimes had a few of the dons to dinner—university men like himself—but never ladies. There has not been a lady in this house for as long as I can remember…’ A speculative expression came to her eyes. ‘That brings me to you, young sir—if it isn’t rude of me to ask. Who are you and how did you come to meet the captain?’

Georgie took a deep breath, then smiled. ‘It is a long story, Mrs Jenkins. Captain Hernshaw doesn’t know it all yet, but if you promise to keep it to yourself I shall tell you a part of my secret.’ She swept off her disreputable cap, letting her long dark hair cascade over her shoulders. Her melting brown eyes met the housekeeper’s astonished look bravely. ‘I shall not deceive you, Mrs Jensen. I am not as I presently appear,’ she said, and then tucked her hair back under her cap.

‘Well, bless my soul,’ Dora Jensen said. ‘You’re a lady, miss! I thought there was something odd as soon as I laid eyes on you. You looked like a girl, but in your present dress it seemed unlikely—if you don’t mind my being blunt. It isn’t quite proper for a young lady to be in an unmarried gentleman’s house.’

‘No, you are quite right,’ Georgie said. ‘But when I tell you that I was near to starving when he found me, you may find it in your heart to look kindly on me.’

‘Never fear that I shan’t,’ Mrs Jensen said in a gentle tone. ‘I know a lady when I see one and something tells me you are in terrible trouble.’

‘Yes, I am,’ Georgie replied and her bottom lip trembled. ‘I am in such a mess—and I’m frightened, that’s why I came here to the house of a stranger. He gave me food and promised to help me, but he doesn’t yet know the real story, though he does know I am a girl.’

‘You never told him lies, miss!’

‘Yes, well, I couldn’t tell him the truth, not at first,’ Georgie said, warming to her new friend. ‘But I am in terrible danger. And I can’t tell you any more, because…well, I just can’t!’

‘Well, I never,’ Dora said and shook her head. ‘That is a shocking thing, miss—if you are telling me the truth?’

Georgie crossed her fingers behind her back. It was nearer to the truth than she had confessed to Captain Hernshaw, but still not the whole story. But she was afraid that if he knew the real story her protector might refuse to believe her and pack her off back to her family—and that was something she was determined to fight at all costs.

‘I wouldn’t lie to you, Mrs Jensen. I just can’t tell anyone the whole story.’

‘I hope you wouldn’t,’ the housekeeper said, her eyes going over her. ‘I am not sure what we ought to do with you, miss, and that is the truth. There are no young girls in this household and my clothes would fall off you.’

‘Oh, I don’t want to dress like a girl,’ Georgie said hastily. ‘I couldn’t stay here if people knew it was me—and I might be recognised if I went out in a girl’s clothing. I have been into fashionable society, you see. I should have no reputation left if people knew I was here in this house. Can’t you find me something suitable to wear—a youth’s clothes, perhaps?’

‘Well, I don’t know, miss.’ Dora looked doubtful. ‘This is a house of menservants for the most part, because it was always a bachelor’s home; there are no boys—but the captain might have something.’

‘You could always wash my things.’ Georgie looked down at herself doubtfully.

‘That I will not,’ Dora said decisively. ‘Those things are for the rag bag if I have my way. You can wear one of the master’s bathrobes. I’ll ask Henderson to find you something—he’s the captain’s valet and he served him when they were both in the army.’

‘Oh…’ Georgie hesitated. ‘Yes, I see…well, it will have to do for the moment. But you do see it is better if people think I’m a boy, don’t you?’

‘Yes, miss,’ Dora said, though she was still doubtful. ‘Well, here’s your room, miss—or perhaps I should call you master?’

‘Call me Georgie. It is my name and it could be for a boy or a girl, couldn’t it?’

‘You’re a rare one,’ Dora said and shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to make of you, and that is the truth, but the master put you in my care, and I’ll do the best I can by you. Now, this is your room, and I’ll send Henderson up with the bathtub. I’ll bring the hot water myself. Make yourself comfortable, Master Georgie, and I’ll be back soon.’

Georgie thanked her and went inside the room. It was a bedchamber of handsome proportions, though once again it was furnished in heavy dull furniture, the curtains and bedclothes in sombre shades. Very masculine and not at all what she had been used to all her life, but much better than the streets.

She sat down on a stool near the window and looked out as the door closed behind Mrs Jensen. At least she was safe here for the time being. No one would think of looking for her in this house. It had given her a shock to see him when she left the inn with Captain Hernshaw and she had been glad of her new friend’s protection. She closed her eyes for a moment, because she was feeling sick and frightened. To be so near to that man! It had made her feel very nervous, though it was unlikely he would have recognised her dressed in her filthy clothes. Yet the fear that he would had been very strong, because she would rather die than be taken back to her home and forced into a life that she knew would be unbearable.

She had run from her aunt and uncle, and they were in collusion with another person to rob her of what was rightfully hers. Not by murdering her, but by marrying her to a man she hated.

She would never marry him! Never, never, never! She would much rather be dead than his wife. For a moment the tears were very close, but she held them back. The worst of her ordeal was over now. She was no longer hungry or cold and could put the memory of her time on the streets behind her. She must think hard about what she was going to do next, because her situation was still precarious.

Her head came up as she heard a knock on the door and she called out that whoever it was might enter. A man of about three and thirty came in carrying a large metal tub, which he placed down in front of the fireplace. He then knelt down, striking a tinder and putting the flame to the dry kindling, which caught with the help of a little work with the bellows.

Georgie wandered over to watch him. He glanced up at her and she saw the fearful scar on his cheek. Instead of flinching, she felt an immediate sympathy for him and smiled, hoping that he would see his disfigurement did not cause her revulsion.

‘Thank you, that is very kind of you, sir.’

‘Call me Henderson,’ he told her, his dark eyes narrowed. ‘I’m the captain’s valet now. I served with him in the army. He saved my life when I was wounded, and he gave me a job. Mrs Jensen tells me you’re here because he rescued you too.’

‘Yes…’ Georgie hesitated because she wasn’t sure what else the housekeeper had told him. ‘I need something to wear, Henderson. Has the captain got anything suitable?’

‘His things will be too big for you, but I’ll find you something,’ he promised. ‘The captain’s things will do for tonight, young master, though you couldn’t go out in them.’

‘Thank you, but I do not wish to go out just yet,’ Georgie said. She glanced over her shoulder as Mrs Jensen entered, carrying a jug of water. She was followed by a younger footman carrying two cans of water, which he poured into the bath, before throwing her a curious glance on the way out.

‘You can leave us now, Henderson,’ Mrs Jensen told the valet, who had the fire going nicely. ‘I’ll help the lad.’

‘I’ll find you something to wear,’ Henderson promised and went off, leaving Georgie alone with the housekeeper.

‘You’d best lock the door until you’ve done,’ Mrs Jensen said with a frown. ‘If we’re to keep your secret for the time being, you don’t want anyone walking in without warning. I’ll bring you a robe—there’s one in the armoire that belonged to one of the guests and was left behind. Make sure you put it on before you open the door, and keep a towel round your head. You don’t want anyone guessing the truth.’

‘No, I don’t,’ Georgie agreed. ‘Thank you so much, Mrs Jensen. I wasn’t sure what you had said to Mr Henderson.’

‘I told him no more than he needed to know,’ Dora replied. ‘But he’s no fool. I doubt it will take him long to work it out for himself.’

Georgie nodded. She locked the door after the housekeeper left and then stripped down to her skin. The sight of steam issuing from the bathtub was enticing, because she hadn’t been able to wash since her flight from her uncle’s house and the water smelled nice, as if it had been perfumed. She sighed with pleasure as she stepped into it and sank down into its warmth; it was just right, not too hot or too cold. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against a towel and relaxed. It felt so good! She had missed being able to indulge in the luxuries she had known all her life and had hated being dirty. How could people live that way? The answer must be that they had no choice, as she’d had none after her money was stolen.

A single tear trickled down her cheek, because until two years previously she had been the cherished only child of indulgent parents. The tragic carriage accident that had robbed her of both mother and father in one go and cast her into the arms of her mother’s older brother had changed her life completely. At first her aunt and uncle had seemed kind enough, but as she approached her nineteenth birthday, and the fortune that would soon be hers, she had noticed a change in their manner towards her. It was just a look, a conversation that ended abruptly as she entered the room, and then one morning she had overheard them discussing her.

‘He says he will settle the debt if we give him the girl,’ her uncle Henry Mowbray had said as Georgie hovered outside the parlour door. ‘I am deeply involved with him, Agatha. If I refuse he could ruin me—and he will. Believe me, he will!’

‘You should never have been drawn into his schemes,’ Aunt Agatha said harshly. ‘She is nothing to me, of course, but even so…that man gives me the shivers. I do not like this, Henry. Are you sure there is nothing else you can do?’

‘He wants her and the money, but at least he is willing to let the debt go. If I refuse, he might snatch her anyway—and he could ruin me in more ways than one.’

‘But that man…he frightens me, Henry. And she is little more than a child. I do not like the sound of this.’

‘Well, he says it is her or what I owe him, and you know I cannot pay.’

Georgie had run away swiftly as her uncle walked towards the door. She knew that she must not let him realise she had overheard their conversation, because he might decide to lock her in her room until he could force her to marry that man! And she was certain she knew exactly who he meant. She’d seen him looking at her when he visited her uncle and he made her feel as if she wanted to scrub herself all over! She would never marry him, whatever they did to her.

Georgie had left her uncle’s home that very night, determined that she would find a place to hide until she came into her fortune. Once she had it, she could set up home somewhere and pay a respectable companion to live with her. Her plans had been vague to say the least, and she had been acting on instinct when she took the mail coach for London, with some idea of visiting her father’s lawyers at the back of her mind, but when she lost her purse everything had changed. Her priority then had been to stay alive until she could work out what to do for the best, and now she was here in the home of a gentleman she had met for the first time that evening!

She had been fortunate, she knew that instinctively. There were worse perils on the streets of London than she had yet encountered, and, if she played her game skillfully, Captain Hernshaw might help her. She had to decide what to do for the best. There was one person who might help her, though she was reluctant to approach her great-aunt, who had always seemed remote and distant—but it might be the best way in the circumstances. It would perhaps have been best to seek her help in the first instance, but she had acted on impulse, afraid of the consequences if she delayed.

Georgie stayed in the bath until it began to get cold, then got out and dried herself, before putting on the striped soft velvet robe that the housekeeper had put out for her. It was so big that it kept falling off her shoulders and she had to hitch it up with the belt so that she didn’t trip over it all the time, but it felt warm. She went over to the dressing chest, looking at herself in the small mirror that hung from a stand above. Her dark hair was hanging about her shoulders, still slightly damp and curling in wisps as it dried, a complete giveaway of her true sex. She bit her lip, because she knew that she wouldn’t be able to hide the truth for long with her hair this way. She hadn’t wanted to cut it, but now she felt driven to do so.

She opened the top drawer of the military chest that formed part of the furnishings and saw a pair of scissors lying there. Her hand reached for them, hesitated and then grasped them determinedly. If she wanted to escape detection, she would need to be brave. She took a handful of her hair and held it up above her head, positioning the scissors. There was no help for it, her hair must go!

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ a voice said and Georgie turned to see that Henderson had entered the room via what must be a dressing room. She hadn’t realised that there was another door until this minute. ‘Proper shame to hack off all that lovely hair, if you ask me.’

Georgie got to her feet, staring at him in dismay. ‘I locked the door…’

‘I used the adjoining one, though I waited until I heard you moving about, miss. I did knock, but you didn’t hear me.’

‘I was lost in thought.’ Georgie stared at his face. ‘You knew I was a girl all the time, didn’t you? Did Mrs Jensen tell you?’

‘I sort of guessed it,’ Henderson agreed. ‘I’ve seen delicate young boys, and you might pass for one in poor light, but anyone looking at you now would know for sure. I’ve brought you some clothes—and a cap, so you can hide your hair.’

‘I think it should come off,’ Georgie said. ‘Would you help me, Henderson? I’m not sure I can do the back.’

‘I’ll cut it if you really mean it,’ the valet told her, ‘but I think it is a wicked shame, miss.’

‘You must call me Georgie,’ she said. ‘If anyone discovers the truth…I am in such terrible danger, you see. There is…someone who wants to…harm me.’ It was all she could tell him, as much as she dared to say for now. Tears stood in her eyes as she looked at him.

‘Not if I was near enough to stop him,’ Henderson said and scowled. ‘You should tell the captain, Georgie. He wouldn’t stand for it.’

‘But I can’t impose on him,’ Georgie replied. ‘He has already helped me. I have to get to my great-aunt’s house. She lives in Yorkshire and is the only person I can trust.’

‘You talk to the captain. He will help you get where you need to go,’ Henderson said, looking doubtful. He came towards her, looking at her long hair and the scissors. ‘Are you sure you want to cut this?’

‘Yes—’ Georgie began, but her next words were lost as she heard shouting and then someone knocked frantically at her door. She sprang to open it and Mrs Jensen almost fell into the room. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘It’s the master,’ the housekeeper cried, clearly in a state of shock. ‘He has been badly hurt, miss, and not far from the house. He just staggered in, covered in blood. He’s soaked in it! I never saw the like in my life. He needs you, Henderson!’ Her hands were trembling. ‘Nothing like this ever happened when the old master was alive. I can’t abide the sight of blood. I never could.’

‘Where is he?’ Henderson barked at her. ‘Pull yourself together, woman! I am going to need help.’

Mrs Jensen was shaking and in terrible distress. ‘They carried him to his bedchamber. I can’t help you. I’m sorry, but I just can’t…’

‘I will,’ Georgie said at once. ‘I’m not afraid of a little blood. Go to him, Mr Henderson, and I’ll follow as soon as I am dressed.’

‘Oh, miss,’ the housekeeper said, forgetting discretion in her distress. ‘The poor master. We’ve sent for the doctor, but he looks in a bad way.’

Chapter Two

Henderson went off without another word or a look in her direction. Georgie scooped up the clothes he had left for her and turned her back on the housekeeper as she dressed hastily in breeches and shirt that were far too big for her. She rolled up the sleeves of the shirt and legs of the breeches, tying them round the middle to hold them in with a neckerchief the valet had brought, then scraped her hair up under the cap.

‘Show me where,’ she said and Mrs Jensen stared at her, clearly still in shock. Her wits had gone begging and she looked dazed. ‘Mr Henderson will need help if Captain Hernshaw has been badly hurt.’

‘Yes, come this way,’ Dora said, coming out of her trance. ‘I’ll show you, but don’t ask me to help, because I shall faint at the sight of it. I never could stand blood, and that’s a fact!’

‘We can manage,’ Georgie said, understanding that she felt bad because of the way she had reacted. ‘My aunt was just the same. When my uncle had a shooting accident, I was the one who patched him up until the doctor—’ She stopped abruptly, because she had already said too much. She hadn’t intended to mention her uncle at all!

‘I thought…’ Dora shook her head, because the sight of her master stumbling into the house in such a state had shattered her nerves and she did not know where she was. She had assumed Georgie was alone in the world but now it seemed she had an aunt and uncle. However, it wasn’t her business, and there was no time to think of anything but Captain Hernshaw for the moment. ‘You had better come at once.’

Georgie followed her swiftly along the hall to a set of double doors at the end, which led into the master suite. She went in, leaving Mrs Jensen to hover outside. The first room was a sitting room, which she noticed seemed less dark and dull than the rest of the house, and might have been refurbished recently, but there was no time to stare, for a voice summoned her from what was clearly the bedroom beyond.

‘In here!’

Hurrying to answer Henderson’s call, Georgie found him bending over the figure of his master. There was blood everywhere and he was frantically trying to press down on an open wound in Captain Hernshaw’s shoulder and directing the footman to do the same to another wound in the captain’s thigh.

‘What can I do?’ Georgie asked, going to the bed.

Henderson glanced up. ‘Not going to faint on me?’

‘No, I shan’t do that,’ she replied. ‘Can I do that while you attend to the wound in his thigh? It looks as if it is the worst. Shall you stitch it or apply a tourniquet until the doctor arrives?’

‘We don’t have time to wait,’ Henderson replied tersely. ‘Unless I can close that wound, he will bleed to death.’

‘You’d better do it, then,’ Georgie said. ‘I’ll apply the pad to his shoulder and the footman can hold him down for you. He will likely come to his senses and fight you when you start.’

‘You’ve had some experience of this,’ Henderson said, giving her a knowing glance. He moved the footman to one side and looked at the deep wound to his patient’s thigh. ‘I’ll sew it roughly for the moment to stop the blood. It won’t be pretty, but it may save him.’

‘Get on with it,’ Georgie said, pressing down as hard as she could on the secondary wound. ‘Otherwise he will certainly die. No one can lose this much blood and live.’

Almost an hour later, Georgie looked down at the man lying amongst the stained sheets. His face was very pale and she thought he was completely out of it now, for he had fought them so hard when the cauterising iron was applied to his thigh that Henderson had had to knock him out with a strong dose of laudanum, forcing it down his throat as he raged at them in his agony.

She shuddered, because she knew that he had come very close to death that night. The experience had been far worse than when her uncle was shot in an accident, and she was feeling weak after their efforts to save his life. Even now there was no guarantee that he would live. It was likely he would take a fever or his wound might turn bad, as wounds so often did, the poison going inward.

‘You look terrible,’ Henderson said, glancing at her in concern. ‘You should go to bed, Georgie. I can mange him now.’

‘He will take a lot of nursing,’ Georgie replied, frowning. She did not know why, but she was reluctant to leave the man lying there so still and pale. ‘I’ve seen something like this before. It wasn’t as bad as this, but bad enough. Your master could still die of a fever—and he has lost a lot of blood.’

‘Yes, I know. I’ll have the doctor to him, but I don’t see what else we could have done.’

‘You did everything any doctor would have,’ Georgie said. ‘Did you learn that in the army?’

‘My father was an army surgeon,’ Henderson said. ‘It was his wish that I should take it up, but I wanted to be a soldier. I soon learned that my father’s skills were necessary out there and I made it my business to learn all I could—from him and from books.’

‘You saved Captain Hernshaw’s life.’

‘If he lives.’

‘If he lives,’ Georgie agreed, because she knew the outcome was still in doubt. ‘I’ll go to bed now, but I’ll come back later so that you can rest.’

He nodded his head, not bothering to answer. Georgie left him to finish clearing up the mess they had created. She was feeling so very tired. Everything had happened so fast that she hardly knew what had happened. But as they fought for Captain Hernshaw’s life she had known very clearly that she did not want him to die!

As she walked back to her room, Georgie was thinking about the man she had helped to tend. Seeing him lying there, his life in danger, had affected her more than she would have expected. She had only known him a few hours, but already she was praying for his recovery. She did not know why, but for some reason it was very important to her that he should live.

Georgie had fallen asleep almost as soon as her head had touched the pillow. When she woke again it was to see the first rays of the morning light creeping in at the window. For a moment she lay, stretching, feeling relaxed, and then suddenly it hit her and she recalled all the events of the previous night. She had slept in her clothes in case she was needed, and sprang out now, hurrying along the hall to Captain Hernshaw’s apartments. As she went in she saw that Henderson was applying a cloth to the patient’s forehead and went to him.

‘How is he?’

‘Feverish, I think,’ Henderson replied. ‘The laudanum kept him quiet most of the night, but he is starting to fight now.’

‘You’ve been up all night,’ Georgie said. ‘I meant to come, but I slept too soundly. Give me the cloth. I can do that and you should rest.’

‘Yes, I need an hour or two,’ Henderson agreed. ‘The doctor came and gave me some medicine for the fever. I’ve given him one dose and he shouldn’t have more for two hours. If I’m back, I’ll give it to him, but the measure is one spoonful, no more.’

‘Yes, I see,’ Georgie said and glanced at the dressing chest where the dark brown bottle and a spoon had been placed. She took note of the time by the clock on a tall chest. ‘He has the next dose at nine forty-five.’

‘Yes, good.’ Henderson looked approving. ‘I shall leave it to you, then—and thank you.’

‘He helped me. It is only fair I should help him.’

Henderson studied her in silence for a moment, but said nothing more, just turned and left her to get on with the job of bathing the patient’s brow.

‘Justin…’ Georgie turned her head as she heard the feverish mumbling. ‘Forgive me…I should have been there…don’t die…I’m sorry…it wasn’t your fault…it wasn’t your fault…’

Georgie wrung out her cloth in cool water and stroked it over his heated forehead. His dark hair was damp with sweat, hanging in rat-tails about his face. He wore his hair longer than most men did these days and she thought it gave him the look of a rebel, a man who did not conform to the fashion of the day.

‘Justin…no…’ He gave a tortured cry and sat up in bed staring wildly in front of him. ‘You can’t die… forgive me…forgive me…’

‘He forgives you,’ Georgie said as he fell back against the pillows with a sigh. She wasn’t sure if he could hear her in his fever, but she stroked her fingers down his cheek, soothing him. Touching him made her feel a little strange, because she felt he needed her and she longed to help him. He was in such torment and his pain tugged at her heartstrings, bringing tears to her eyes. ‘He knows you wanted to save him…it isn’t your fault if he dies…’

His hand shot out, gripping her wrist, his eyes staring at her, but seeing something beyond her. ‘I knew,’ he muttered. ‘I knew what they did to him! I should have stopped them. It wasn’t his fault…he was gentle…so gentle…they killed him…’

‘It’s all right,’ Georgie told him, her fingers caressing his cheek once more. ‘Rest now. Justin is safe…’

‘No, he died…’ Tears were trickling down his cheeks now. ‘He died because I wasn’t there to help…’

‘But you wanted to,’ Georgie comforted, her heart wrenched by his obvious distress. ‘You would have if you could…’

‘Failed him…’ His eyes had closed now, but she thought he seemed a little easier. She stroked his hair and his face, using the cool cloth to wipe away the sweat from his forehead and the tears from his cheeks. His outburst had been a revelation, for who would have guessed that he could be so moved? He seemed such a stern man, giving no sign of any deep emotions, but clearly he felt them. He had inadvertently revealed another side of his character, one that she might not have known was there if he hadn’t been struck down like this, and it had reached out to something inside her, arousing tender feelings she had not known she had. Georgie wondered who Justin was and what had happened to him—and why did Captain Hernshaw feel so very responsible?

It wasn’t her business, she decided as she sat back in the chair Henderson had drawn close to the bed. At least he was resting for the moment. He was still hot, but the mutterings had stopped and he appeared to be more comfortable.

She sat watching him, studying the curves and angles of his features. He wasn’t a handsome man by the standards of the day. His features were much too harsh, his nose straight and patrician. His mouth looked softer when he was sleeping, not hard or angry as it did when he was annoyed, and his lashes were thick and dark. She could not see his eyes at that moment, but she knew they were grey—eyes that could be cold or sparkle with amusement. He intrigued her. What kind of a man would bring a thief he had met on the streets to his home? What kind of man was tortured by something in his past? Had he done something dreadful? Was that why he begged forgiveness in his fever?

She would probably never know, Georgie realised. She had hoped to persuade him to help her reach her great-aunt’s, but he was unlikely to be able to leave his bed for some weeks. Could she stay here all that time—ought she even if he allowed it?

She was torn by uncertainty as she sat watching him. One part of her told her that she should leave as soon as she could, because it would be foolish to become more involved with him. Perhaps one of his servants would lend her enough money to take the coach to Yorkshire…and yet she could not desert this man while he lay ill. Against her will, she felt drawn to him in a way she could not explain. Besides, Henderson would need help until his master was over the worst. And, Georgie admitted, she wanted to help take care of him, to see him strong and well again, to touch him and… She shut out the foolish thoughts. She wouldn’t run away while he needed her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to have foolish thoughts either!

Henderson returned exactly two hours after he had left. Georgie wondered if he had slept at all, but when she asked if he had, he merely said he was rested.

‘I got used to not having much sleep when we were fighting on the Peninsula,’ he told her. ‘I don’t need a lot. Mrs Jensen said you were to go down when you are ready, Georgie. She will give you breakfast in the small parlour.’

‘Oh…thank you,’ Georgie said, becoming aware that she was beginning to feel hungry. ‘Yes, I shall. Do you want me to help with his medicine first?’

‘I can manage him,’ Henderson said. ‘He is easy enough when he’s like this; it’s when he begins to feel more like himself that he gets restless. He doesn’t make a good patient.’

‘You have nursed him before?’

‘He wouldn’t thank me for telling you, but, yes, he has been wounded badly a couple of times.’

‘He was lucky to have you.’

‘I’m the lucky one,’ Henderson said. ‘When I was caught by a blast from a cannon, it cut my face to ribbons, and I had a stomach wound that should have been fatal. They thought I was finished, but he wouldn’t leave me. He carried me back to base over his horse and he forced the surgeon to sew me back together, and then he sat with me until he knew I would live. He paid for someone to nurse me until I was on my feet again. A good many would have left me to die—and when they told me I was no more good for the army, he told me I had a place with him for life.’

Georgie looked at him intently. ‘You love him, don’t you?’

‘I’m not sure whether it’s brotherly love or gratitude,’ Henderson said with a grimace, ‘but I know I would die in his place if it came to it.’

‘I call that love,’ Georgie said and smiled. ‘I’ll come back later. We’ll look after him together.’

‘Yes, miss, if that’s what you want.’

‘It is,’ she said, ‘and you can call me Georgie.’

Henderson shot her a curious look, but didn’t answer. She was discovering that he was a man who spoke only when he thought it necessary, and she felt pleased that he had told her his story. It must mean that he liked her and trusted her. She felt that she had made a friend, someone who might help her if she were in need.

She went downstairs to the small parlour and discovered that Mrs Jensen had set out a table for her. There was a dish of scrambled eggs with ham and some good fresh bread. It smelled wonderful and she ate most of what had been left for her, gathering the dishes afterwards just as Jensen entered.

‘There’s no need for you to do that,’ he said, his expression doubtful and a little sad as he looked at her. Georgie suspected that he thought her no better than she should be. Perhaps he believed she was masquerading as a boy so as to carry on an illicit affair with his master. ‘Mrs Jensen and I are used to taking care of things in this house.’

‘Have you been here a long time?’ Georgie asked.

‘Forty-odd years,’ he replied. ‘I served the old master until he died. I thought I would leave when that happened, but I’ve stayed on to take care of things for the captain.’

‘I am sure he is grateful,’ Georgie said. She sensed that he was not as willing to be as friendly as his wife, and that he didn’t quite trust her. ‘But you should tell him if you wish to leave.’

‘Don’t you go saying a word to him!’

‘No, I shan’t, but if you would like to retire you should consider telling him yourself.’

‘When he has time to settle down…’ Jensen shook his head. ‘That’s if he recovers from what happened last night…terrible to think such a thing could happen so close to home.’

‘It may be as well it did,’ Georgie said. ‘Had he not been able to get home, he might have bled to death in the street.’

Jensen looked grey in the face. ‘Nothing like that ever happened when the old master was alive. I can’t think what things are coming to…’

He looked suddenly old and his hand trembled as he gathered the dishes. Georgie felt sorry for him, because he was so obviously upset.

‘I am sure Captain Hernshaw will recover now,’ she said. ‘Mr Henderson was very quick and clever last night. He saved the captain’s life.’

‘You helped him,’ the old man said and shook his head sadly. ‘Mrs Jensen told me she couldn’t have done it. I’m not sure why he brought you here, but it may be a good thing.’ He sounded and looked doubtful even as he said the words.

‘I was in trouble,’ Georgie said. ‘Captain Henderson helped me—but I would have done it for anyone. I am not frightened by a little blood.’

‘It was a lot of blood,’ the old man said, giving her a reproachful look. ‘We’ve never had young ladies in this house…and certainly not dressed as you are.’

‘I am sorry if you disapprove, but I am in hiding, you see. If a certain person discovered where I am, he might…kill me.’ She had decided to stick to this part of her story, because she couldn’t be sure of the reaction she would get if she told the truth.

‘Such goings-on! The old master would turn in his grave if he knew…’ Jensen grumbled to himself as he picked the tray up and went out of the room.

Georgie sighed. She would have felt better if she had been allowed to help, but it was obvious that Jensen would not allow that. His wife would probably resent it if Georgie offered to help in the kitchen. There was nothing for it but to find a book to read, though she doubted she would find anything of interest in this room.

She wandered over to the bookshelves, looking at the volumes of history and scientific volumes. They would send her to sleep in five minutes! She looked further along, almost giving up until she saw the book of poetry. It was new, bound in red leather, and very much out of place amongst all the others. Picking it out, she frowned as she opened it and a folded paper fell out. Georgie replaced it without opening it because it wasn’t hers to read. She took the book and curled up in a chair by the window, beginning to read, but after a while she saw that it had been marked in ink in the columns and some words had been underlined.

What a terrible way to treat a new book! And it was by Lord Byron, something she had wanted to read for a long time! Who could have done such a thing?

She frowned over it, trying to ignore the ink marks, but they annoyed her and she found herself fixing on them when she ought to have been reading the poetry. She was caught by the regularity of what seemed to be a pattern, and began to wonder if perhaps it was a code of some kind, though she couldn’t make much sense of it. She flicked through the book and found the folded paper someone had left inside, hesitating because it wasn’t hers and yet intrigued.

Oh, what did it matter? It shouldn’t have been left there for anyone to find if it was important. She unfolded it and read through the few lines of explanation, a spiral of excitement curling through her as she realised that she was right. It was a code and with this she could break it easily. By studying the text in the poetry book and then comparing it to the instructions in the letter, Georgie soon realised that if you took out the letters that had been marked you could make new words and sentences.

It was a message of some kind! She looked at what she had thought was just scribbling in the margins and realised that the numbers and letters referred to certain lines. Someone had already done a lot of the work and Georgie found it easy to work from that person’s notes. Counting along the lines, she found the words that had been underlined and suddenly the message began to jump out at her.

It concerned a plot to kill members of the government and an important man, who, she thought, was meant to be the Regent! She sat holding the book for some minutes, staring at it in disbelief, thinking she must be mistaken. Surely she was wrong! If she had translated this correctly, the man she had tried to steal from the previous evening might be concerned in a wicked plot to bring down the English government and the throne!

She couldn’t be right! She must have made a mistake…and yet the terrible attack on Captain Hernshaw that had happened close to his house might be directly connected with what she had just discovered. No! She would not believe he was capable of such infamy! Georgie got to her feet, placing the letter back where it belonged and closing the book with a snap. She returned it to its place on the shelf. She had made a mistake when deciphering the message…or perhaps Captain Hernshaw was concerned with this plot because he was trying to stop it happening…

It had to be that, she decided, because she could not—would not—believe that the man who had treated her so well when he might have handed her over to the watch was a traitor to his country.

Besides, she had no right to pry into his private affairs. Glancing at the clock, she saw that some hours had passed. It was time that she went up to give Henderson a chance to find himself something to eat.

They took turns to watch him throughout the rest of the day and during the night, but there was little change, though once while Georgie was with him he seemed to be feverish. Once again she heard the name Justin, though what he was saying wasn’t clear this time. She smoothed his damp hair back from his forehead, talking to him softly, and after a while he quietened. She smiled down at him, thinking how much younger he looked when he was resting. She knew a strong temptation to kiss him and stroke his face, but fought it because it wouldn’t be right to take advantage when he was vulnerable. She sat down again to watch over him from a distance. When Henderson came back, he was sleeping peacefully.

‘He seems better,’ the manservant remarked. ‘I think he may be through the dangerous time, Georgie.’ He smiled at her. ‘Go to bed now. I can manage him from now on.’

‘I’ll come back so that you can have your breakfast,’ Georgie replied. ‘You told me that the trouble will start when he comes to his senses, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, but…’ He shook his head at her. ‘It isn’t fitting for a young lady to be in a gentleman’s bedchamber.’

‘Who will know?’ Georgie asked and grinned. ‘I shan’t tell if you don’t.’

He tipped his head to one side, considering her. ‘Who are you, miss? I’d swear you were a lady if I didn’t know he found you on the streets.’

‘My name is Georgina, but I can’t tell you any more than that,’ she said. ‘I ran away from…where I was, because something terrible would have happened if I hadn’t.’

Henderson gave her a look of disbelief. ‘Are you sure you’re telling me the truth?’

‘I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t.’

‘The captain will want to know when he’s himself again.’

Georgie looked at their patient. ‘I want to trust him, but I am afraid he might not believe me.’

‘If you tell him the truth, he will help you.’

‘Will he?’

Henderson looked at her hard. ‘You will have to trust someone eventually—and he is the one who can help you.’

‘Yes, I know. I will try, honestly, I will—and could you please call me Georgie? I don’t want anyone outside this house to know I’m a girl.’

‘They’ve only to see your hair,’ Henderson told her. ‘I shan’t betray you, but you must be very careful.’

Georgie agreed that she would and he went away to have his breakfast. She stood watching over their patient for a while; he seemed to be resting more easily. She bent to stroke his hair from his forehead, smiling at him as he murmured in his sleep, and then she leaned down to kiss him lightly on the cheek. His eyelids flickered, which made her back away hastily. She wandered over to the window, where she discovered a rather battered-looking chess set on a little table near the window. She began to set out the pieces and had just finished placing them when Henderson returned. He smiled as he saw what she had done and came over to the table.

‘We played this many an evening during the campaign,’ he told her. ‘There wasn’t much else to do, miss.’

‘Shall we play a game?’ Georgie suggested. ‘I used to play with my father, but I haven’t played for ages. I’ll take white and you have black.’

‘Yes, if you wish,’ Henderson agreed and moved a piece for his opening gambit.

Georgie moved a pawn to block him and battle was joined. She gave a chuckle of delight as he removed her first piece, for it was obvious that he was a worthy opponent and she need not fear to play her best game. Neither of them noticed when the man in the bed opened his eyes.

Richard lay with his head resting against the pillows for some seconds before he became aware that he was not alone in the room. He was at first conscious only of the throbbing agony in his thigh. There was some soreness in his left shoulder, but it was his thigh that pained him the worst. He could not for a moment think where he was, his pain swirling him back to the battlefield and the agony he had endured from wounds gained there. The girl’s laughter penetrated the fog that held him, making him focus on the two figures near the window.

It was a few moments before he realised that one of the two was Henderson and the other…was a rather odd-looking urchin dressed in clothes that were far too big for him. He inched his way up against the pillows and the sharp stab of pain cleared his thoughts. No street urchin, but the girl he had brought home the night he was attacked.

Richard grimaced as he continued to watch them. Her laughter was infectious as she moved her chess pieces with lightning speed and gave a chortle of glee.

‘Check!’

‘I didn’t see that coming,’ Henderson told her ruefully.

‘I am sorry to interrupt your game, but could I have some water?’

Richard’s words brought their heads round instantly. Somewhere beyond the pain and the need to relieve his thirst, he felt amusement at the guilt reflected in the girl’s face. She got up at once and went swiftly to pour water into a glass.

‘Come back to us, have you, sir?’ Henderson said, unperturbed. ‘I thought you were over the worst last night. You gave us all a fright, captain. What happened?’

‘I had been somewhere and it was on my way back…’ Richard frowned as he recalled the murderous attack. He had delivered his package to the man who waited for it and returned home. He had had no sense of being followed and the attack was silent and deadly, his assailant stabbing him in the leg viciously and then the shoulder. ‘Rather like you, Henderson, I didn’t see it coming.’

‘That’s unusual for you, sir. You hadn’t been drinking?’

‘Not sufficiently to lose my awareness. Whoever it was must have been a professional.’

‘And good at his work,’ Henderson said. ‘If you hadn’t been so close to home, that thigh wound would have done for you, captain. You almost bled to death.’

‘Who patched me up?’

‘Mr Henderson,’ Georgie said, bringing him the glass of water. ‘He did everything a doctor could, but much more quickly. We couldn’t wait because you were losing too much blood.’

Richard’s gaze centred on her face. ‘You didn’t let this rascal help patch me up, Henderson?’

‘Georgie was very good. She has helped me look after you, captain. She didn’t flinch at the sight of blood. I should have been hard put to it to manage without her.’

‘So you know she is a girl?’ Richard sipped the water she offered, his hand closing over hers as she held the glass to his lips. He drank a little and then nodded. ‘Thank you, that is enough.’ He sighed and lay back against the pillows, his eyes closing as he felt a shaft of pain. Georgie started to move away, but his hand came out, gripping her wrist with surprising strength. ‘Where did you get those ridiculous clothes?’

‘Henderson gave them to me. I think they belong to you.’

‘Indeed?’ His eyes opened once more. He looked at his manservant, who nodded. ‘We must buy her something suitable. Perhaps Mrs Jensen will know.’

‘I can’t stay here dressed as a girl,’ Georgie said. ‘I don’t mind wearing your things.’

‘Get her something that fits her, Henderson,’ Richard said. ‘If she is determined to keep up the masquerade, make it a youth’s clothing.’

‘Yes, sir, I’ll do that,’ Henderson said. ‘Frederick has a young brother. I’ll ask him to buy a few things.’

‘Yes, do that…’ Richard sighed and closed his eyes. The girl was a problem he could have done without at this particular time, but she had made herself useful. Besides, he just did not have the energy to deal with her for the moment. ‘I need to rest…’

He was vaguely aware of some whispering going on, but the strange tiredness was creeping over his body and he was slipping away, his eyelids too heavy to open.

Georgie left the bedchamber. Henderson had told her that she should find something to eat for herself, and she went down to the parlour. Some cold ham, pickles and fresh bread had been left out for her. There was also a pot of coffee, but it was nearly cold. She drank some because she did not wish to trouble Mrs Jensen for more.

After she had eaten, she gathered the dishes and took them through to the kitchen. Mrs Jensen was there but there was no sign of her husband.

‘You shouldn’t have bothered with those, miss.’

‘I like to help,’ Georgie said. ‘I don’t want to cause more trouble for you than I need, Mrs Jensen.’

‘Well, you’re not a bother, whatever Jensen says,’ Dora told her kindly. ‘I rather like having a young person in the house. It makes a change, and I told Jensen so. He was ready to retire years ago, but I’m younger. I still enjoy my work, and that’s a fact, miss.’

‘I am glad I am not a trouble to you,’ Georgie said. ‘I know Mr Jensen thinks it is all very shocking, and of course he is right—but I have nowhere else to go. If Captain Hernshaw would hire a post-chaise for me, I could leave, but I couldn’t ask him while he was unconscious, could I? As soon as he is well enough, I will ask for a loan of some guineas and then I can leave.’

‘Well, as to that, miss, it is up to the captain who he brings home, and that is what I told Jensen. We’re here to look after the house, not to judge. Besides, there’s nothing going on—couldn’t be with the master so poorly.’

‘He has come to his senses this morning,’ Georgie said. ‘I helped to nurse him when he was in the fever, Mrs Jensen, but he is a strong man and he will soon recover, I think.’

‘I am sure you are right, miss,’ the housekeeper said and nodded her head as if she had the same thought. ‘Mr Henderson told me he had been wounded badly before. It was a good thing you were here to help, that’s all I can say, miss.’

It was on the tip of Georgie’s tongue to ask her to remember that she was supposed to be a boy, but she decided it didn’t matter. As long as she stayed in the house, and out of the way if the captain had visitors, she would be safe enough. She didn’t know that the man she disliked so much was in town to look for her. He could be here for a quite different reason. All she had to do was stay here until she could persuade Captain Hernshaw to help her.

She had decided that she must try to get to her great-aunt’s home and ask her if she would take her in. It need only be for a short time, after all, because as soon as she was in possession of her fortune she could hire a companion and set up her own establishment.

In the meantime, Georgie needed something to amuse herself. She went to the parlour that she had made her own since coming to the house and began to wander about the room. She took down the book of poems and began to read through it, trying to ignore the scribbling in the margin.

After a while, she laid the book aside. Obviously, Captain Hernshaw was mixed up in something nasty. It had not occurred to her previously to wonder why he should have been in those mean streets where he’d found her, but now she frowned over it. Had he gone there to meet someone? She knew from her own experience that the slums were haunted by rogues, thieves and worse—so what had a man like that been doing there? And what was in the package she had snatched from him?

It must have been important for him to chase after her the way he had. Could he possibly be involved with the kind of people who would work against the government and the Regent? She had begun to like him rather a lot and tried to dismiss the thought.

Getting to her feet, she was about to replace the book, but then changed her mind, taking it with her as she went back upstairs. She paused outside Captain Hernshaw’s rooms, then knocked and entered. She saw at once that their patient was awake, sitting up against the pillows. Henderson had clearly been busy, for his master was clean-shaven and looked much better than he had when she’d left earlier.

He gave her an odd look as she entered. ‘What are you doing here? I must thank you for helping Henderson, but you should not continue to visit me here now—unless you have no reputation to lose?’

Georgie blushed. ‘I came to see if I could do anything for you,’ she said. ‘If you would like me to read to you…’ She hesitated and then approached the bed, showing him the book. ‘I found this downstairs.’

‘Did you indeed?’ Richard glared at her. ‘And have you been reading it?’

‘Yes…’ She looked away from his hard gaze and then back. ‘It has writing in the margins and some words are underlined.’

‘And what do you make of that?’

Georgie took a deep breath. ‘I am not sure. It might be some sort of a code…’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘Because I tried making sense of it.’ She hesitated, then confessed, ‘There was a paper inside that gave me instructions for breaking the code.’

‘And did you?’

‘Yes…at least I was able to form words and sentences.’

‘And that has made you wonder if I am a spy or an assassin?’

‘No, of course not,’ Georgie denied, a flush in her cheeks. ‘I mean…it does look bad, but I didn’t think you…but you were attacked and I wondered…’

‘I should have left you where I found you,’ Richard said ruefully. ‘I knew you were trouble from the start.’

‘You’re not involved in a plot to kill the Regent, are you?’ Her eyes opened wide.

‘If I were, you would have just signed your own death warrant,’ Richard said, a gleam of annoyance mixed with laughter in his eyes. ‘No, I am not involved in it—but I may be involved in trying to stop someone who is.’

‘Yes…’ Georgie let out a long sigh of relief. ‘I thought it must be that. I am so glad it isn’t you.’

‘Are you?’ He arched his right brow. ‘Are you able to keep a secret, Georgie?’

‘Yes, of course. I shan’t breathe a word.’ She hesitated, feeling uncomfortable at what she must do now. ‘Could you lend me some money—enough to travel post-chaise to Yorkshire?’

‘Lend you—or give you?’

‘Oh, I should pay you back soon,’ Georgie said. ‘If you would do that, I could leave at once and I would not trouble you again.’

Richard’s gaze narrowed. He studied her face for a moment or two. ‘I could lend it to you,’ he said. ‘I may do if you tell me the truth. I know you told me some story of having been forced from your post as a lady’s maid because of your employer’s son, but I think you were lying to me. I don’t think you were ever a maid, were you?’

She hesitated, and then met his eyes. ‘I didn’t know you then,’ she said. It was no use, he wouldn’t believe her if she told him more lies. She was going to have to tell him the truth! ‘You could have been anyone. My real name is Georgina Bridges. My father was Sir John Bridges, my mother the youngest daughter of Lord Nairn. They were both killed in an accident two years ago—and they left a fortune in trust for me. I inherit in a few weeks’ time. My uncle, Sir Henry Mowbray, wants me to marry a man he owes money to—but I hate him, so I ran away. They want my money and they think he will give some of it to them if they make me marry him, but I know he would keep it for himself. He is so horrid…the way he looks at me makes me feel…dirty.’ She ended on a sob of distress. ‘I ran away as soon as I heard them discussing it. I would rather die than marry him.’

‘And what is the name of this man?’

‘He is a Frenchman. His name is Raoul Thierry. He seems to be a rich gentleman, but there is something sinister about him.’ Georgie shuddered. ‘I did not know what to do when I heard my aunt and uncle talking so I ran away, but then…I told you what happened. I suppose my lawyer would give me money if I asked, but he might not believe it really was me.’

Richard’s eyes went over her. ‘In your present attire I am certain you would not get past his clerk. The money isn’t a problem, Georgie. But I am not certain you are telling me the truth.’

‘I am this time! I promise I am.’

‘Even so, you are vulnerable. You obviously aren’t capable of looking after yourself.’

‘I should have gone to my great-aunt the first time. I was wrong to stop in London.’ She bit her bottom lip. ‘I know you must be angry. I tied to rob you and now you are ill and you do not want the bother of me.’

‘No, I do not want the trouble of a young lady,’ Richard admitted and frowned. ‘However, Henderson told me how you helped him and I owe you for that, Georgina.’

‘Please do not call me that! My Aunt Agatha calls me Georgina and I hate it. I am Georgie—and you don’t owe me anything. I did what anyone would have in the circumstances.’

‘No, that is not strictly true. Apparently Dora nearly fainted at the sight of the blood. You did far more than I could have expected of a stranger.’

‘You gave me supper and somewhere to sleep.’

‘And by doing that you became my responsibility,’ Richard said. ‘I am confined to bed for the next week or so, but once I am on my feet I shall take you to your great-aunt.’

Georgie looked at him doubtfully. ‘You cannot want that trouble, sir. Lend me the money and I shall go alone.’

‘No, you will not,’ Richard said. ‘If you have told me the truth, you may be in some danger. Therefore it is my duty to see you safe.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Forgive me, but I am weary. Please go away now. You have my promise that I shall take you to your great-aunt when I am able. For the moment you must be patient and wait.’

Georgie stared at him for a few seconds, but he had leaned back against the pillows, his eyes closed. She placed the book of poetry on the bed and then walked softly to the door, glancing back at him as she went out. She felt frustrated, for she knew that without money she could not hope to reach her great-aunt’s house. She could go to her lawyer, but it was doubtful if he would see her in her present state of dress—and if he did he would hardly believe that she was Miss Georgina Bridges.

If she ran away again, she might starve or become ill before she could reach safety. It seemed as if she must stay here, and wait for Captain Hernshaw to recover his strength sufficiently to accompany her to Yorkshire.

Richard opened his eyes as the door closed behind her. Her story was believable enough, though she had lied to him previously. If he accepted it this time, it would be wrong to let her go anywhere alone. Besides, she had mentioned a name—a name that he had learned to associate with treason.

It could be coincidence, but it was possible that by delivering Miss Bridges to her great-aunt, he would learn more of the man—or group of men he sought.

For a moment he wondered if she had been sent to rob him that night. She had certainly tried to take the package containing new information about the plotters—perhaps the names and whereabouts of men concerned in the conspiracy to bring down the government and cause chaos in England. He had not yet had the chance to decode it, though he’d delivered it to others who might recently have done so.

They needed the information, because the plot must not succeed. With the Regent dead, as these villains planned, there would be men in England who would not hesitate to settle with the French. Napoleon Bonaparte was barely contained in his island prison of Elba, where rumour had it he reigned like a prince. If he were to break free and march again, the Allies would join together to defeat him—but if England were in chaos…

Richard knew that without the British the Allies would not stand long against Bonaparte. It was imperative that this plot be foiled and quickly before things got out of hand.

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.

‘Oh, are you better?’ she said, uncurling and getting to her feet. ‘This is the best chair. Perhaps you would like to sit here?’

‘So this is where you get to,’ Richard said. She wasn’t wearing her coat and the shirt clung to her curves, making him realise that she was far from being the child he had thought her that first night. ‘Why don’t you use the parlour? It is more comfortable than this room.’

‘Mrs Jensen always lights a fire here. I didn’t like to ask her to light the parlour fire.’

‘I shall do so,’ Richard said and limped towards her. He grimaced from the pain. If Henderson had had his way, Richard would still be in bed, but he was tired of lying there when there was so much needing his attention. ‘What are you doing here? I shouldn’t have thought there was much in this room to interest you.’

‘There isn’t,’ Georgie said and pulled a face. ‘But Dora would not let me visit you.’

‘She was obeying my orders,’ Richard said. ‘You are bored. I am sorry. I had no intention of staying more than a few days for I have business elsewhere.’

‘It’s my fault,’ Georgie said, voicing thoughts even she hadn’t realised were there until now. ‘If you hadn’t taken a detour to help me, you would not have had to go out again that night.’

‘If it hadn’t happened then, it would another day,’ he said, voice and face expressionless. ‘Besides, I am on the mend now. We shall be ready to leave in a couple of days.’

‘Really?’ She discovered that she was no longer in a hurry. ‘You must take your time, sir. I should not wish your wound to break open again on my account.’

‘I heal quickly,’ Richard said. His eyes narrowed. ‘Be careful no one sees you like that, Georgina. I’m afraid your secret would not remain a secret for long if you were seen without your cap and coat.’

‘Perhaps I should cut my hair?’

‘No!’ he answered swiftly, a note of authority in his voice that made her stare at him. ‘No, it would be a shame to cut such glorious tresses. After all, this masquerade will soon be over.’ His gaze narrowed. ‘I think it best if you retain the boys’ clothes as we travel, but I will purchase a gown for you to change into before we arrive at your great-aunt’s home. You will not want to shock her by arriving dressed like that, Georgina.’

‘No, I think she would be angry.’ Georgie looked at his face, noting the tiny nerve that flicked at his temple. ‘Please, will you not call me Georgie? My aunt always used Georgina when she wished to punish me for something.’

‘Did you often deserve that she should punish you?’

‘Perhaps. I dare say I tried her patience, but my mother…’ She blinked as she felt the sharp sting of tears. ‘We were a happy family. I was given a great deal of freedom. Mama told me to remember my manners, to be kind to others and to speak my mind if I saw injustice or deceit—but always to be myself.’

Richard saw that she was emotional. ‘You must miss your parents terribly?’

‘Yes, I do.’ Georgie lifted her head. ‘Mama would have been so angry if she knew what her brother planned for me. She would never have tried to force me to marry someone I did not like. Indeed, I do not think she would have thought that man a suitable husband for her daughter.’

Richard studied her thoughtfully. ‘Just what is it you find so distasteful about Monsieur Thierry?’

Georgie shivered. ‘It is the way he looks at me… something secretive in his manner, sly. I trust nothing he says. Besides, a man who truly cared for me would not try to buy me from my uncle. He would have courted me in the proper way and taken his answer in good part.’

‘That is certainly the way of a gentleman,’ Richard replied, a faint smile on his lips. ‘But can you be certain that he used your uncle’s debts to secure you in marriage? Are you sure you heard correctly?’

‘Yes, quite certain,’ Georgie said. ‘I heard my uncle talking to my aunt. She was quite shocked and tried to persuade him that it was not right, but he told her that he had no choice. I knew that they would use every method of persuasion to try to force me to take him and so I ran away.’

‘And into more trouble!’

Georgie bit her lip. ‘You do not have to go on about it! I have learned my lesson.’

‘It is to be hoped that you have,’ Richard told her severely.

Georgie glared at him. ‘If you do not wish the trouble of taking me to my great-aunt, you could send me in a carriage with a servant.’

‘Yes, I could,’ Richard said, his eyes narrowed in thought. He was not sure why he had not arranged it while he lay confined to bed. Henderson could have secured the services of a lady’s maid and they might have travelled by post-chaise. ‘But I feel responsible for you. It would not be sensible to send you all that way when we cannot be certain of your reception. Have you thought what you will do if your great-aunt refuses to take you in?’ Georgie shook her head. ‘She is bound to be elderly and may not wish the trouble of a young woman. What will you do if she sends you back to your mother’s brother?’

‘I have no idea,’ Georgie said honestly. ‘However, once I have my money I intend to set up my own establishment.’

‘At your age? Impossible!’

‘I am nineteen,’ Georgie told him. ‘At least, I shall be in a few weeks. Besides, I have no choice if my great-aunt does not want me. She and my mother’s brother are the only relatives I have.’

Richard nodded, his expression giving nothing away. ‘Well, we must see what she has to say when we arrive. And now you may join me in the parlour.’ He offered her his arm, which she took shyly, making certain that she put no pressure on him as they walked. ‘I saw you playing chess with Henderson. You will oblige me by giving me a game. I have found it extremely tedious being tied to my bed these past days.’

‘Well, it is your own fault,’ Georgie replied, a sparkle in her eyes. ‘Had you not banned me from your chamber, I should have enjoyed spending some time entertaining you before this, sir.’

‘And what would my servants have made of that?’ Richard replied a glint in his eyes. ‘I am past thirty, miss, and you are eighteen. If it became known that you had come to my bedchamber—made regular visits—your reputation would be gone. Even now, you run the risk that your great-aunt will think you sunk below her notice.’

‘Oh…’ Georgie flushed. ‘I didn’t think of it like that, because, after all, you were not likely to get up and ravish me—and I think I could run faster than you at the moment.’

Richard heard the lilt of laughter in her voice. Had she no idea what she looked like in her breeches? She was more enticing than she could imagine! ‘You would not think it amusing if it became common knowledge. After all, you will want to go into society one day, perhaps marry? You would not want people to think you shameless?’

‘No…’ She blushed and hung her head. It hurt to know that he thought her shameless. ‘Please do not scold me. I know that my behaviour has been reckless. I have been trying not to think of the consequences, for I cannot change things now—can I?’

‘No,’ Richard agreed. Glancing at her face, he saw the sparkle of tears. ‘Well, do not turn missish on me now, Georgie. No tears! We are in this scrape together and we must brush through it as best we can. No more talk of going off alone. I shall escort you to your great-aunt and see you settled. Besides, I find my business takes me in that direction and it is possible that I may kill two birds with one stone.’

‘May I ask the nature of your business in Yorkshire, sir?’

‘No, you may not,’ Richard said and grinned as he saw a flash of annoyance in her eyes. Better she should be angry than weep! ‘It is for your own sake, miss, believe me. I am involved in something dangerous—as what happened the other night proves only too well. I am hoping that my enemy will not follow us from town. Henderson is to follow us on horseback, to keep a watch on my back, though I hope he will not be needed, at least while you are with me.’

Georgie raised her eyes to his. Her heart was racing, because the thought that he might die at the hands of an assassin was more painful than she cared to admit. ‘You almost died last time, sir. I hope that whoever it was will not try again. I should not like you to die.’

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