Regency Debutantes by Margaret McPhee

understood exactly what Mr Praxton and her papa had been about. And that was sure only to make matters worse, for them all. Let him think the worst if it would prevent him becoming embroiled with Mr Praxton. Besides, he was right. That she had set out to seek Mirabelle’s advice no longer mattered, for she was far beyond any help that lady could now offer. On a social standing, even Mr Praxton’s loathsome attentions paled in contrast to the circumstance into which she had now stumbled…well, thrown herself. She was under no illusion as to exactly what she had done to her reputation just by running away. And then there was the small matter of being pressed aboard a naval frigate…as a boy.
    At least her papa’s evil plan had been foiled. No man, not even Mr Praxton, would wish to wed her now. Even so, she could not help but be glad at Nathaniel’s words:
the AtlanticOcean lies between you and Mr Praxton…He cannot reach you here.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Somehow, she doubted that she had heard the last of Walter Praxton.
    The door opened to reveal Captain Hawke’s head. ‘Morris, organise that a large tub of warmed sea water be brought to my night cabin. And also a jug of warmed fresh water.’
    ‘Aye, Captain.’ As the captain’s head disappeared once more the young marine sent a look of bewilderment to his opposite sentry, shrugged his shoulders and scurried off to do as he was bid.
    Neither did the captain’s steward or his valet blink an eyelid when he requested fresh bedding and clean clothes of a size to fit Master Robinson. But it did not take long for the news to spread far and wide aboard the
Pallas.
Indeed, in a matter of hours, both Lieutenants Anderson and Pensenby had heard the rumours.
    ‘I cannot credit that he’s treating the boy in such a way.’ The tip of Mr Pensenby’s long nose trembled at the very thought. ‘There is no doubt some unsavoury motive at play. Robertson openly flouted my command and what does he receive in return? A flogging? Reduced rations? Crow’s nest watch? Oh, no. Master Robertson is treated to a private warmed bath within the captain’s own cabin. There’s something very much amiss.’
    John Anderson’s brow furrowed. ‘I’m sure that there must be some perfectly reasonable explanation for what has happened. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. No doubt the captain will inform us of anything that we should know.’
    ‘Mark my words, Mr Anderson, only trouble will come of this. Trouble and nothing else.’ His wide thin lips compressed. ‘We both know the direction the men’s thoughts will take.’
    Lieutenant Anderson said nothing, but turned his attention once more to the log he was writing.
    The water lapped warm and luxuriant against Georgiana’s naked skin. She sighed and relaxed back within the captain’s personal hip bath, bending her knees until her soapy head submerged beneath the surface. When the worst of the lather had been removed, she reached for the jug and poured its freshwater contents over her cropped hair. The ebony locks squeaked clean, and Georgiana marvelled at Nathaniel Hawke’s generosity. Freshwater was precious; she did not know how long it would be before they would have an opportunity to replenish the supply. And yet he had not expected her hair to suffer the coarse drying effects of seawater. As she stepped dripping from the tub and wrapped the cloth around her, she looked with curiosity at the small room around her, marked so clearly as belonging to Captain Hawke. Besides the furniture she’d already noticed, there were a case of books, a small table and chair, a heavy sea chest, a basin, shaving accoutrements, a mirror fixed upon the wall…and the cot. A shiver ran down her spine and she dried herself briskly, stepping into the clean clothes that Nathaniel had provided for her.
    She folded the cloth and could not resist inspecting her reflection in the mirror. A pale face with short dark hair stared back at