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especially not to him.
    ‘And what was it that you were doing to come to land in the river, Miss Raithwaite?’ He stepped closer to the bed and lowered his voice.
    ‘I…I was …’ She glanced up to meet the strength of his gaze.
    ‘Examining the botanical specimen?’ he suggested.
    ‘No.’
    ‘Then what?’
    She could give him no answer that would not compromise herself and she did not think that she could bear to see the condemnation in his eyes that was sure to follow. So she said nothing, just shook her head.
    ‘And what was Mr Praxton doing to allow you to fall?’
    I didn’t fall, I jumped! And Mr Praxton was doing precisely as you suspect!
she wanted to shout, but couldn’t. ‘We had a disagreement, and…that is when I went into the river.’ Subconsciously her fingers slid to tug at her ear lobe.
    Nathaniel took another step closer. He made as if to reach his hand out to her, then checked the action. ‘Miss Raithwaite,’ he said quietly, ‘I have the notion that you’re fearful of returning home. Who are you afraid of?’ He waited, before prompting, ‘If Mr Praxton has done aught that he should not have…’
    The beautiful grey-blue eyes widened in shock and for the briefest moment he thought she was about to tell him something of the greatest significance. Then she faltered, and the moment was gone.
    ‘No.’ The temptation was great. She wanted to tell him. The words had crept to the tip of her tongue before she’d had the sense to restrain them.
    ‘Then, your father?’
    The intensity of his gaze made her shiver. It was as if he could see past her defences to the truth. She willed herself to stay calm. ‘Why should I be afraid of my papa?’
    ‘Perhaps he does not approve of your friendship with Mr Praxton.’
    If only that were the case! Had she imagined his subtle emphasis on the word ‘friendship’? She bristled at the implication. ‘I have no
friendship
with Mr Praxton. My papa is more approving of our betrothal than you could possibly realise.’
    Hell’s teeth, but the girl was infuriating. He’d come here to assail the nagging doubt that there was more to Georgiana’s story than she was telling—something that wasn’t quite right. Fear, desperation, anger, indignation, he was sure he’d seen them all marked clearly on her face. Damn it, he hadn’t even known her this time yesterday. Now here he was, behaving like the village idiot, in the chit’s bedroom of all places, with the foolish chivalric notion that she needed his help. So Mirabelle had been right. Miss Raithwaite had been indulging in some compromising behaviour with the man and she was to marry him. The thought irked him more than it should have. ‘You are betrothed to Mr Praxton?’ He struggled to keep the scowl from his face.
    ‘Mr Praxton is very determined to marry me.’ She spoke so quietly that he struggled to hear her answer, strange as it was.
    He thought he saw her lower lip tremble, but before he could be certain it was caught in a nip by her teeth. Praxton was clearly capable of eliciting strong emotion in her. Again that surge of disquiet made itself known.
    Nathaniel looked at the girl with her flushed cheeks and glittering eyes for a moment longer. ‘Then, you have my felicitations, Miss Raithwaite. I will leave you to your rest.’ He bowed and strode from the room as if it was a matter of thesmallest consideration. Georgiana Raithwaite’s future was none of his concern. But he could not rid himself of the unsettled feeling for the rest of the day.

Chapter Two
    N athaniel Hawke dropped a chaste kiss on to his brother’s wife’s cheek, only to find himself embraced in a bear hug. Mirabelle’s arms barely stretched around him and she stepped on the tips of her toes to reach up to him. ‘Dearest Nathaniel, promise me that you’ll take care on both your journey to Portsmouth and your voyage, wherever it may take you.’
    His mouth opened to reply.
    ‘And make sure that you send Henry back