Free Regency Debutantes by Margaret McPhee Page B

up. ‘George, Captain, sir.’
    Nathaniel had to strain to catch the low-pitched mumble. ‘And your family name?’
    The small boots standing before him shuffled uncomfortably. ‘Robertson, Captain, sir.’
    ‘Well then, Master Robertson, my first command to you is that you stand up straight at all times and look whoever may be talking to you directly in the eye. Do you understand?’
    ‘Yes, Captain, sir,’ the faint reply came back.
    The boy’s head remained averted.
    Perhaps Mr Adams had been right in his estimation of the boy’s wits. Nathaniel frowned. ‘Master Robertson,’ he said somewhat more forcefully.
    The large sailor nudged the boy and hissed between blackened teeth, ‘Do as the Captain says, George. Stand up straight. Look up.’ He turned back to the captain. ‘Sorry, Captain, he’s a bit slow, but he’s a good lad.’
    Nathaniel’s gaze drifted back to the stooped figure.
    Slowly but surely Georgiana straightened her shoulders and raised her face to look directly at Captain Hawke.
    Nathaniel blinked. There was something familiar about the dirt-smeared little face that looked up at him. A memory stirred far in the recesses of his mind, but escaped capture. Surely he must be mistaken? The boy was clearly no one he had ever seen before. He tried to shrug the feeling off. And all the while George Robertson’s youthful grey-blue eyes were wide with shock. ‘That’s how I prefer to see you at all times, Master Robertson. A seaman should be proud of himself,and as a boy aboard my ship, you’ve much to be proud of.’ Captain Nathaniel Hawke returned to his cabin with a faint glimmer of unease that could not quite be fathomed.
    Georgiana’s knees set up a tremor and she pressed her hand to her mouth. She thought that her nausea had subsided with the fresh sea air of the open deck. The sight of the gentleman striding purposefully towards them brought it back in an instant. Dear Lord, but he bore an uncanny resemblance to Lord Nathaniel Hawke. It was a complete impossibility, of course, or so she told herself. Many men were tall with dark hair that glowed red in the sunlight. But as he came closer, and Georgiana was able to look upon those brown expressive eyes, fine straight nose and chiselled jaw line, she knew that her first impression had not been mistaken.
    Her sudden gasp went unnoticed as Lord Nathaniel addressed the surrounding men. Shock gave way to relief. Providence, in the guise of Nathaniel Hawke, had helped her before and was about to do so again, or so it seemed. Even as her spirit leapt, the stark reality of her circumstance made itself known to her. Only two kinds of women came aboard ships, the wives of officers, and those who belonged to what she had heard termed the oldest profession in the world. Georgiana belonged to neither group. Yet the
Pallas
had sailed from Portsmouth two days since. Her position was precarious in the extreme. The very presence of an unmarried lady aboard Nathaniel Hawke’s ship was likely to place him in a difficult situation. Her own reputation no longer mattered, but she had no wish to cause trouble for the man who had saved her life. There seemed to be no other alternative than to continue with her deception as the simple-minded boy. She dropped her gaze to the spotless wooden decking and played her part well,hoping all the time that Nathaniel Hawke would not recognise any trace of Miss Georgiana Raithwaite.
    ‘Oi, dopey!’ The rough-edged voice sounded across the deck. ‘Have you got cabbage for brains or what?’ The fat gunner’s mate delivered a hefty slap to Georgiana’s ear. ‘Get this bloody place cleaned up before Mr Pensenby arrives. If he sees it in this state, you’ll be on reduced rations again. Now get a bloody move on.’
    In the two weeks that had passed since the
Pallas’
departure from Portsmouth harbour, Georgiana had managed to avoid the worst of trouble and had retained her disguise. All trace of seasickness had vanished