She laughed at that. She couldn’t help it, as he looked every inch the mortified and admonished little boy. “As I am unlikely to ever see any of your crew ever again, I sincerely doubt my reputation is in any jeopardy. Not that anyone really cares about a lowly governess’s reputation anyway, so I wouldn’t worry.” Although in this beautiful, borrowed gown and sporting Ada’s rather pretty coiffure that was threaded with silk flowers, she felt more like a princessthan a servant. Cinderella for just one night, so she was determined to thoroughly enjoy this uncharacteristic foray into the world of the privileged rather than watching it from the periphery. “And on that score, I assume I amnotyour employee tonight but a… what?”
“Obviously you are my besotted sweetheart, as I have my own reputation to protect.” He grinned, then cringed, all charmingly awkward and uncertain again. “If you don’t mind playing that part, that is?”
“Again, I shall remind you that as I am never going to see any of these people again, and even if I do, they will not see me because I shall have turned back into a governess by then—and therefore be invisible—so I can be whoever you want me to be. Do you have a reputation as a lady’s man?” Not that she needed to ask, because he was, devil take him, precisely the sort who would attract women in droves. Both Lottie and Portia had taken leave of their senses at his attractiveness before he had given away anything of his kind heart and charming, self-effacing nature.
He laughed at her teasing tone, folding his arms cockily. “It wouldn’t be gentlemanly to say. I do, however, have a reputation for always having the most beautiful woman on my arm, so at least that will remain intact.”
Had he just called her beautiful?
Her!
As she was internally melting and was determined not to swoon in a puddle at his feet, she kept her tone light. “And am I besotted because we have been courting long, or am I simply the latest in a long line of besotted sweethearts? We should both be singing off the same hymn sheet if we are going to be believable.”
His smile was more amused now than awkward. “Long enough to be gloriously overfamiliar, but not quite long enough for a betrothal, as that might prove difficult to explain away later.”
“Are you as besotted with me as I am with you?” She hoped that sounded nonchalant rather than needy as she flicked a finger at his smart navy-and-gold coat. “Or am I one of those silly girls who is too enamored of an impressive uniform that she doesn’t care overmuch what is inside it? Only I have to be honest, I might struggle to actthatmuch.”
“I think I can guarantee that I shall, from time to time, regard you with longing this evening.” His expression was ironic, but his eyes—his dark, stormy eyes—told her that despite their intended ruse tonight, he liked what he saw. “And I probably won’t be acting.” Knowledge that made her a little giddy.
“Well, I…” The curt rap on the door startled.
“The carriage is here.” Simpkins opened the door without waiting to be asked and gave Harry a murderous glare as held out his hand. “I’ll entertain Georgie while you stuff yourself into your glad rags.” He claimed her briskly and whisked her back out onto the deck.
“As I’m guessing you’ve never been to a fancy naval shindig before, use your cutlery from outside to in, only ever pass the port to the left and never across the table.”
“Why?”
“Nobody really knows but they’ll get very annoyed if you do it wrong. While you’re passing it, whatever you do, don’t let the decanter touch the tablecloth.” Simpkins gave her a warning look in case she was tempted to ask why again. “When it’s toasting time, never toast with an empty glass ’cause that’s bad luck, and as it’s Saturday, the final toast will be to wives and sweethearts, to which you should reply with ‘May they never meet.’ You got all that?”
“To the left without touching the table, no empty glass, and may they never meet.”
He winked at her. “And be your usual outspoken self, Georgie, and you’ll do just fine.”
True to his word, Simpkins kept her company until Harry emerged from his cabin resplendent in braid, his big hat set at a jaunty, rakish angle that suited him too much. “Shall we?” He waggled his arm and she took it, then felt the eyes of the entire ship follow them until they set off in the carriage.
Admiralty House sat atop a hill with stunning views of the Plymouth Sound. In deference to the clement June weather, the guests mingled first on the terrace rather than inside. The setting sun picked out the shimmering braid worn by the gentlemen and all the jewels dripping from their companions, making Georgie glad that Ada had nagged her into swapping her mother’s unfussy locket for the borrowed but thankfully expensive-looking gems currently adorning her neck. The faux emerald necklace and matching earrings went some way toward making her feel less self-conscious amongst all this overt finery, but no less out of her depth when every other person wasLord ThisandLady Thatand they all seemed to know one another. Georgie had been introduced to so many illustrious people, she held out little hope that she would remember more than a quarter of those names by the time they all sat down for dinner.
To his credit, her escort did his best to make her feel included, and for that she was grateful. He also tried to quietly tell her who was who and what was what in the few moments they had alone together since arriving, but the constant stream headed his way made it difficult to do anything other than smile politely. She had known that Harry was an important man within the navy but had no concept of exactly how important until she had seen him here. In his element.Older and clearly higher-ranking men with yards more golden thread on their tunics slapped his back and pumped his hand as if he were the prodigal son. His contemporaries, to a man, all seemed both impressed and envious of his success. TheBoadicea, especially, was mentioned in nothing but awed tones, confirming what Georgie had worked out already the second she had set eyes on that dratted ship—that being its captain was a rare and exalted honor.
“Hello, Henry.”
At the feminine voice from behind, his arm stiffened beneath Georgie’s fingers. Then stiffened some more when he turned to smile at the woman. It was an odd smile. A tad disingenuous mixed with a hint of discomfort.
“Elizabeth.” There was history between him and this stunningly beautiful blonde. Troubled and, for Georgie, as he anchored her to him more firmly, oddly troubling history. “How are you?”
The blonde’s smile was tinged with similar awkwardness and something that resembled regret. “I cannot complain. I am glad to be home from dreary Canada. We’ve been stuck there a whole year and it’s just so cold.” Her elegant hand flicked toward an older officer festooned with rope and braid several yards behind, and Harry stiffened some more. “Thankfully, we and the children are home again for the foreseeable. Did you know that we now have two boys?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t. Congratulations.”
“Yes… twins. They will be four in September.” By the way the muscles in his arms clenched, the timing of that was also significant. As if she knew it too, the blonde looked almost… guilty. That didn’t stop her from artfully batting her eyelashes or running her fingertips idly along the straining edge of her bodice. She was a woman who knew exactly how attractive she was to the opposite sex and used it as a weapon. “But where are our manners?” She turned her gaze toGeorgie, assessing her in that way that only women did to other rival women, over-scrutinizing her naked fingers with interest before she smiled. “Are you going to introduce us, Henry dear?”
Henry?If there was indeed history between these two, why on earth was this woman calling him by a name he never used himself?
“Of course…” Galvanized into action, his whole demeanor was as overbright as the elegant blonde’s, making Georgie wonder what it was they were both overcompensating for. “Georgie, this is Lady Elizabeth Barrett-Hughes, wife of Vice Admiral Lord Francis Barrett-Hughes. Elizabeth, this is Miss Georgina Rowe. My… um…” He squeezed Georgie’s arm intently, although she did not understand the message until he next spoke. “Fiancée.”
“Congratulations,” said Lady Elizabeth with forced gaiety as her gaze locked with Harry’s. As odd emotions were swirling in both of their eyes, Georgie instantly felt excluded. Jealous, even, but she masked it with a beam of her own as she loyally embellished his lie.
“Thank you. I am still getting used to it, as it has all happened so suddenly.” She did her best impression of a woman beaming at her man in adoration. “It was so spur of the moment, he has yet to give me a ring.” As the woman had already clocked her hands, some explanation seemed necessary.
