Georgette and the Unrequited Love: Sisters of Castle Fortune Book 1

by Alicia Cameron

  ‘You said that yesterday,’ Georgette found herself saying crossly. He laughed loudly at this rudeness and she wrinkled her nose at him.

  ‘Yesterday was merely practice,’ Sir Justin encouraged. ‘Today you shall master it!’

  ‘Thank you sir,’ said Georgette pointedly to Faulkes, ‘encouragement is more to the purpose.’ She looked over her shoulder to see how Onslow took this, and he exchanged a wry look at her indirect scold, his eyes alight. Georgette looked at the target fiercely, pulled back the bow with the notched arrow, breathed deeply and let it go, straight to the target’s centre! Or that was what she intended, but unfortunately it ended at the target’s edge. The neighbouring target’s edge. There was a pause.

  ‘You didn’t straighten your arm,’ remarked Onslow blandly. Georgette twirled murderously, and looked up at him, furious. His pale blue eyes filled with delight as he gazed down at her. ‘I am glad that you do not have an arrow in your hand still, or I fear it would be lodged in my chest presently.’

  Sir Justin smiled too, and soon all three were laughing, Georgette saying when she could, ‘I am leaving the field at once. I am a hopeless case.’

  ‘No, no!’ said the baronet. ‘This will never do! You must not admit defeat, Miss Fortune.’

  ‘I agree!’ said Onslow. ‘We shall stay your steadfast supporters and not allow you to leave before you have hit the target at least once.’

  Georgette, mutinous, tried to leave the field but was blocked in her path by first the baronet and then, when she turned, the marquis. ‘Ooooh!’ she uttered, but gave in and turned back. As she failed repeatedly (and sometimes dangerously) to succeed, her attendants speculated audibly behind her. Faulkes’ comments were more gentlemanly, ‘By chance, Miss Fortune, is there anything amiss with your eyesight?’ and Onslow remarked, ‘Not weakness of eye, but of arm. And an inability to take direction.’

  Georgette’s temper was up and she answered, angrily, ‘I am trying to take direction—’ and found Onslow grinning. As the time progressed, Onslow’s laugh became louder, and it transmitted to Faulkes, so that each new failure escalated in hysteria. The other guests began to take note, even Miss White pausing her practice by looking over at Georgette’s stand. She could not hear the conversation, but the two gentlemen were mightily amused. For all her success, Julia wished she could hear what was going on over there.

  In fact, Georgette interrupted the hilarity by turning and grasping the bow to her bosom in an affecting manner. ‘Please let me go, sirs!’ she begged.

  They both grinned and Onslow took one shoulder, and with the other hand grasped the bow and used it to whirl her back to the target. ‘Once more!’ he ordered.

  Georgette sighed, looked at the target hopelessly, and her exhausted arm pulled back while her eyes closed.

  ‘Miss Fortune!’ said Sir Justin, alarmed to see her closed eyes, but then there was a shout, and Georgette opened her eyes to see her arrow at the edge of the target.

  ‘I did it!’ she cried and Amethyst Bailey, at the next stand, clapped her hands, causing a flurry of other hand claps from Amethyst’s brothers, Lady Sarah, and Lord Paxton.

  Georgette turned to her two torturers and jumped up in ecstasy, dropping her bow. She held out her hands spontaneously, and Onslow took one and Sir Justin the other, both smiling and she jumped again.

  ‘You are very pleased with yourself,’ drawled Onslow.

  Georgette, recalled to herself, dropped their hands. ‘Oh, no! But now I can escape!’ With this, she picked up her skirts and ran, laughing, towards the castle.

  Julia White looked as Georgette’s two instructors, taken aback by the swift departure, looked after her, smiling. How could it be that today’s star of the course was Georgette Fortune who could not even hit the target? How was it that so much animation and interest was shown to Georgette, while her own skill, so feted by many others, seemed to go unnoticed by the object of her interest? Was it the morning rides that kept these three so intimate? Julia White knew Onslow to be protecting himself by keeping to Miss Fortune’s side, but the laughter today was too genuine for her to deny the facts. Both the rich baronet and the marquis were now intimate with Georgette Fortune. They seemed to treat her more as a friend or family member, not as a woman to be courted, but Julia had not liked the ready hands that had grasped Georgette’s briefly, or Onslow’s smiles whenever he looked her way. It was not the hot devotion she had surprised on his face when he used to look at Julia in the past days — it was not that desire — but still, Julia White did not like it.

  Chapter 13

  Lucian de Guise, Marquis of Onslow, could not but be attuned to Miss White’s presence, and he was thus aware that her eyes strayed towards him too, and he had surprised a sad look on her face as she did so. He was being firm with himself, and he did not wish to give in to the magnetic pull that he felt towards her even now that he had resolved to love her no more. But as he caught sight of a dancing blond curl, or the curve of her back as she unerringly hit the target at the archery practise, he cursed the men around her to whom she gave those shy, inviting smiles. It had always been one of her attractions, that even as she played games with him, making him jealous, her smiles had still seemed innocent and engaging. He found that even now, when he saw one, he could not doubt it. She gave her smiles to many, but it had seemed that to him there was a warmer smile that only he received. On the ill-fated morning ride, she had given him just such a smile and he was angry that it had the same effect on his body, spreading the yearning in a warm path throughout.

  Once he’d thought her formed just for him. That conviction had driven him to make his declaration. When she laughed, his heart sang, when she looked serious he longed to understand her depths. Her face and form were all grace and beauty, he could not blame the other men who pursued her. Though she had begged his forgiveness afterwards, he could not but see her in the arms of Southwaite, or fail to know that she had not, whatever she had afterwards asked him to believe, been resisting that elderly swain’s embrace. One hand had been placed on his arm. He saw it again, with just the fraction less pain that time allowed, and knew this. There was something else. Something about a look of disgust that had briefly passed over his friend Justin’s face once when Julia’s name was raised. He had been given no reason, but Faulkes’ good nature was a quality Lucian trusted. Something had occurred to make him look this way before he was able to hide it from Onslow.

  He was aware then, that Julia had been disturbed by his and Faulkes’ attention to Miss Fortune. He had been aware, but though it had the power to thrill him that she still sought him out, he had resolved to keep his attention on Miss Fortune. This had proved to require no discipline. Georgette’s hilarious inability to hit anything but earth with an arrow, and her total fury at the remarks of her supporters, was so entertaining that he had forgotten to mark Miss White’s progress at all. Miss Fortune, at first so stiff and reserved with him, was now allowing herself to be teased. If he had a sister, he imagined this would be how she would act with him and he had known that Georgette Fortune might have taken a switch to their backs if only they had been unobserved.

  He laughed at the thought. He barely remembered Miss Fortune in London, though some look in her eyes rang some distant bell. His friend Faulkes had obviously spent more time with her, and he suspected some hint of romance. Obviously, the distance afterwards had been at her instigation, not his, because he felt Justin’s admiration of her every day. Sad that that suit had not prospered, but it gave him a good idea of her character to know that she had not sold herself to his friend the baronet’s famous fortune. She wanted something more, and he was sorry for his good friend that the practical Miss Fortune seemed also to be a romantic.

  It was also a shame that she had so many sisters that she might not appear again in London, where he would certainly dance with her again and let it be known amongst his friends how entertaining he thought her. He would like to see her as the centre of attention instead of the put-u
pon sister of a selfish father and oblivious brother. He would see her shine, as she did with Justin and him on the rides, just catching his eye and making him laugh. She was pretty, her hair an especially attractive shade of brown, her stature diminutive and plump of breast. But it was her eyes that would draw suitors. They were large and expressive, looked brown from a distance, but he had found amber flecks in there that were quite fascinating. However, when she was really merry they were pushed by her cheeks into crescent moons, and they sparked such joy in the observer. When they looked at you like that, somehow you fell into them. Yes, if Baron Fortune could be persuaded to give her another season, he would dance with her and make her laugh like that and show her to her best advantage. Then she would find herself with swains enough to give her the chance at an offer and to stop her living this unappreciated existence at Castle Fortune.

  This appreciation and admiration was what he believed he wanted and hoped for Miss Georgette Fortune, but by the next evening, he found that he was utterly wrong.

  As the party was gathering in the great hall before dinner, talking about the explorations and entertainments of today, Georgette was in the company of Julia White and Lady Sarah Alderly, with Katerina and Portia one side, being coat-tailed by the viscountess and her companion Mrs Hardy. Georgette was not too concerned about her sisters in the lions’ den however, since all the Fortune girls were pretty inured to insult by dint of growing up with the Fortune males. Katerina wandered off in the middle of Mrs Hardy’s instructions on her manners, and the outraged party of cats (and Portia, hiding a grin) moved off in pursuit. Their place, on Georgette’s other side, was quickly taken by Faulkes and Onslow, and the conversation took the turn to teasing her on her performance with bow and arrow.

  ‘Even I hit the target three times, Georgette,’ said Amethyst Bailey lifted by the humorous tone of the conversation, ‘and I have no skill at all!’

  ‘I am glad to have afforded all of you sport,’ Georgette said in a comical flat tone, ‘and am resolved never to take to the field again.’

  ‘Oh, you must,’ said Amethyst Bailey, teasingly. ‘I did not enjoy the full view of your practise, Georgette, but no one could have doubted your companions’ enjoyment of it.’

  Maria Bailey, her quiet sister, ventured, ‘Oh, how merry your stand sounded, Georgette.’

  Georgette Fortune gave a cross look to the left, encompassing the marquis and the baronet. ‘Hmmm!’ was all she offered, which made both of them grin un-repentantly.

  Julia White’s soft laugh tinkled. ‘You have all teased my dear friend Georgette enough! I’m sure I missed quite as many targets when I started!’

  This turned the attention on the beauty, and the gentlemen bestowed their compliments on her skill generously, George Fortune and the Bailey brothers joining the circle from nearby to do so. During these exchanges, the group hardly noted the slight commotion by the door until a tall, handsome figure about Onslow’s age and build suddenly appeared. His looks were dark and intense, the opposite of Onslow’s blond urbanity, and the marquis looked at him critically, unable quite to place him. The baron, was introducing him, and Onslow, hearing the name of Colonel Bellamy, suddenly realised who he was. It was apparent that some others in the group reacted to his name, for Paxton, who must have invited him and was his friend, had let the colonel’s reputation be known abroad. Bellamy had appeared briefly in town three years ago, Onslow had heard, and since then his fortune, made in the east, had become legendary. Onslow calculated that Bellamy could buy and sell the entire party, including the Earl of Alderly’s vast estates.

  The baron was polite but not effusive to the colonel, so it was apparent that, like some people at this gathering, he was unaware of the colonel’s fortune. Onslow watched as the baron sized up his appearance. Clothes were very fine, but not the sharpest that London fashion could offer, and the baron probably underestimated the man’s worth. Onslow was sure that a stay in town would remedy this, but the cut of his coat made the baron disinterested. The marquis tried to share the smile of appreciation of this with Miss Fortune, but she was talking and did not catch his eye. Paxton introduced Bellamy as a friend of the family who had just arrived from India. ‘We were so sorry that the boat arrived early and the family were not at home, but the servants told him we were here and so he came. When he got the letter from the butler, Father made the request of the baron for an invitation.’

  ‘Thank you so much for inviting me, my lord. I had heard tales of Fortune Castle, and I wished very much to view it,’ said Bellamy with good humour and a slight bow.

  ‘Quite right. It’s a very historic spot,’ said the baron gruffly. This slight flattery had softened his eye to the young man, however. There was also something in the colonel’s confidence that gave him stature, perhaps, and gave the baron a slight interest.

  The handsome, dark head was bowing again generally at the party, and Onslow saw his eyes glide over one of the sweetest of Julia White’s engaging smiles without even a blink, then move over the guests until they locked onto what seemed to be his intended target.

  With a jolt, Onslow realised that this was none other than Miss Fortune.

  Holding her gaze, Colonel Bellamy said with deliberation, ‘I am acquainted with Miss Fortune already!’

  The baron, missing anything of interest, moved off, mumbling gloomily, ‘Yes well, she danced with half of London I daresay. But nothing came of it — nothing at all.’

  Onslow’s eyes swept to Georgette, but she did not acknowledge this absurdity, her eyes on the colonel. The marquis saw that she looked at first a little surprised, then she warmed a little, as though in recognition. ‘Of course,’ she said, and took the hand he held out while she made her curtsy, ‘Colonel Bellamy! We danced at Almacks!’

  ‘You remember! I hardly dared hope,’ Bellamy said gallantly, and made Georgette Fortune smile. ‘I also took you to supper, Miss Fortune.’ The last remark was said in a teasing manner, but it was not this that gave the marquis pause. Bellamy’s bow was too low, and he looked with that fierce intensity at Georgette Fortune once more, which was beginning to make her blush. She did not reply and Onslow exchanged a glance with Sir Justin. Faulkes raised an eyebrow, but it was not quite amused. The hint of a furrow was between his brow, and Onslow strove not to let the same appear on his own forehead. His eyes moved to Julia White, whose shock at being so casually overlooked was showing on her face, and he almost laughed. However, as he looked down at Georgette’s flushed face, his desire to laugh died swiftly.

  Somehow, Bellamy was the one to place Miss Fortune’s chair for dinner and as he did so, he whispered something in her ear. Georgette Fortune gave him a slight but distant nod, and Bellamy moved away to his appointed place at the far side of the table. Word had spread, like a forest fire, of a mere colonel’s real rank in society, his fortune elevating him to one who was fawned upon even by Lady Swanson. The viscountess, so insistent on dinner etiquette usually, nevertheless addressed him across the table. Gentlemen asked him about his life in India, and the nearest ladies hung on his every charming and entertaining word. Onslow, still somewhat stunned at the turn of events, watched. Even as he talked to others, Bellamy’s intense dark eyes strayed far along the table to look again and again at Georgette Fortune. Onslow did not think she was conscious of it, but her good manners were such that he could not be sure.

  It did not occur to the marquis that in monitoring this unexpected turn of events, his own eyes strayed to Georgette Fortune’s as often as Bellamy’s.

  After dinner, Georgette was confused as to how to keep her promise to Colonel Bellamy to talk to him a little apart. She was confounded by his behaviour. In her first season, she had met him one evening at Almacks and she had been very glad indeed to be asked to dance with this dark handsome young man, who had been introduced to her by one of the patronesses. It had thus been her first waltz, and after a rather quiet start to the dance, she had confided as much to her companion, as she stumbled through a step. Thei
r hands were raised together as she made her confession, their eyes meeting as she laughingly apologised for her clumsiness. He had looked at her then with more interest she thought, and said with the intense look she witnessed tonight again, ‘May I take you to supper later, Miss Fortune?’

  She had blushed a little and nodded her head, for attention as pronounced as this seldom came her way. He took the edge off his intensity by being friendly and charming, asking many questions about her that permitted her to ask some of him. He had lived in India for over two years now, she’d discovered, and was enjoying a season in London before his return. After his army career he welcomed the adventure of the exotic land of India, and the opportunities he found there. He was of a respectable family, but as a younger son needed to make his own way in the world. She had laughingly told him of Castle Fortune and her herd of sisters, and somehow too, about the death of her dear mama. Those focused dark eyes had been amused and sympathetic in turn, and they seldom left her face as they had talked. It had seemed somehow easy and exciting to share these things with so easy a listener, but somewhat disconcerting to be the pivot of anyone’s complete attention.