Georgie. He would recognize her voice anywhere. But who was she talking to. Felton stilled and put all of his effort into listening.
“It matters not whether my aim is true, you are going to win the tournament. Remember, I am going as your friend, not so that I might win,” another female voice said.
Felton narrowed his eyes. Georgie intended to compete at Cheapside. How? It was an all-male tourney. Was there no rule she would not skirt?
“True, but all the same, it would not hurt for you to shoot well.” Georgie’s tone was playful.
He had to put a stop to this foolishness. She’d only bested him at East End because he had been distracted. Surely she did not believe she could win Cheapside. How the devil did she even plan to compete?
He began walking again, this time with purpose and determination, as opposed to wandering with no sense of urgency. He crested the third hill and the flat open space he sought came into view. His pulse raced as his gaze lighted on Georgie. He studied her for a moment, trailing his gaze down the length of her before resuming his steps. A person would have to be blind not to know she was a woman. He had to stop her from carrying out whatever plan she had before it caused her hurt, embarrassment, or both.
The lady she’d been speaking with stood across from her with a bow in hand. Most likely the lady who had been with her at Lord Gilford’s tournament. If one could call the event a tourney. “Lady Georgina.”
Georgie turned in his direction and waved.
Her welcoming gesture caused him to grin despite his current irritation with her. It seemed they had gotten past whatever had her so miffed. He held his hand in the air and waved back, his steps more hurried than before. He reached the bottom of the sloping hill and met Georgie’s gaze. “Might I join you?”
“We were just preparing to quit for the day.” She glanced at her companion. “Though I would be happy to stay a while longer.”
He turned his attention to the small, brown-haired lady standing near the targets. “Is that Lady Archer One?”
“No. That is Lady Josephine, daughter of the dowager Countess of Ormonde. We attended Miss Emmeline’s together along with Lady Theodora, who is in fact, Lady Archer One.” She turned toward her companion. “Lady Josephine, come, allow me to introduce you.”
The girl approached with slow, measured steps. Her honey-colored eyes remaining downcast until at last she reached them.
“Lady Josephine, meet my neighbor Mr. Crauford, son of the Viscount of Waverton.” Georgie nodded toward Felton. “Mr. Crauford, allow me to present Lady Josephine Watkins.”
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.” Lady Josephine curtsied.
Felton gave a warm smile hoping to settle the girl’s nerves. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“Lady Josephine was about to take her leave.” Georgie turned her attention on her friend. “Do not allow us to stall you.”
The lady nibbled her lower lip as she looked back toward the house. “It is true, I really must be going.”
“Allow me to escort you back.” Felton proffered an arm.
The girl’s cheeks tinted pink. “That is not necessary. Though I thank you for the offer.” She bent to scoop up her arrows, then made a hasty retreat.
“Is she always so…shy?” Felton asked as he watched her scurry away.
“That is nothing. You should have met her years ago. The girl was terrified of everything as well as socially peculiar.”
Felton turned his gaze on Georgie. “She seems pleasant.”
“That she is. In fact, Josie is one of my best friends.” Georgie gave a little laugh before turning serious eyes on him. “I overheard you and my father speaking.”
Felton arched a brow. “And?”
“I want to help you.”
“Why?”
Georgie cocked her hip. “Because we are friends.”
Felton knew her to well to believe friendship was her only motivation. He narrowed his gaze on her. “And?”
“And…I am displeased with my father. But I mostly want to help because I consider you a friend.”
Should he allow her to become involved? What if doing so only caused her more trouble? He had no desire to bring unpleasantness her way. How could she do anything about the duke’s decision at any rate? Felton moved to stand before a target, pulling an arrow. “I thought we were here to practice. You will need it if you intend to win Cheapside.”
“How the devil do you know anything about that?” Georgie stomped to his side and grabbed his arrow.
“Do not be cross with me because your voice carries.” He drew a new arrow.
Georgie snatched it from his hand. “You were eavesdropping.”
“I was merely walking, enjoying the pleasant weather and watching a hawk overhead.” He smiled with nonchalance. “What is your excuse for hearing my private conversation with your father?”
“Very well,” Georgie ceded, handing him back his arrows. “I shall forget every word I heard so long as you do the same.”
“I cannot.” Felton pinned her beneath his stare.
“Why?”
“You intend to somehow breach an all-male tournament. Have you any idea how dangerous that is, not to mention foolish?”
She glared at him in challenge. “No more so than your trifling with Father.”
“On the contrary.” He held her gaze not so much as blinking. “Your Father cannot hurt me.”
“Very well. What do you intend to do with your knowledge?” She kicked at the lawn and pouted.
Bloody hell, the woman drove him mad. How could she be so reckless and so innocent all at the same time? He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Nothing.”
Her eyes widened, surprise written in their tip-tilted depths. “Truly?”
“Truly, because you are not competing.” He turned away from her for a moment to prepare for the fit he saw coming.
“The devil I am not.” Her face flamed, eyes crackled.
“Would it pain you to speak as a lady should?” he said, his tone teasing, because in truth, her lack of convention was one of the things he most liked about the hoyden.
“Very much so.”
He chuckled, shoving his hand into his coat. She would no doubt remain a challenge for all her days. Headstrong to a fault but so damn alluring because of it. Odd how the very traits that annoyed him in his youth now excited him. “How about a wager?”
“What sort of wager?”
“We will compete right here and now. If you best me, I will say nothing about your intention to compete.” He studied her for a breath. “Even better, I will safeguard you at the competition to ensure your wellbeing and that of your friend.”
“And should you win?” She gave a saucy look as though there were no doubt that she would win.
“If I prove the victor, you will refrain from trying to compete at Cheapside.”
“Oh, I assure you, there is no trying involved.” She raised her bow. “I am the best archer in London. You saw me prove it in East End.”
“Then we have a deal?” He held out his hand. “Best two out of three?”
She made no move to accept his hand. “As you wish. Only, I want it added to our bargain that should I win, you will allow me to help you where Father is concerned.”
Felton nodded, holding his hand out farther. “We will use the same target so as to avoid any question of who made the better shot. You can fire first.”
Georgie took his hand and shook it with vigor before changing the paper on the hay bail, wanting a fresh target. With her task complete, she took her place, turned, aimed, and hit the bullseye.
Felton pulled her arrow, then gave it back to her before taking his own shot. His arrow stuck in the same hole. Both he and Georgie continued to hit the bullseye dead center for several shots before one of his arrows landed a smidgen to the left.
“Ha!” Georgie half strolled, half danced down to the target. “Me one, you zero,” she said, pulling the arrow from the tar
get.
“Do not celebrate just yet, Lady Bug.” He accepted his arrow from her. “I assure you, it will not happen again.” And he was correct. After nearly two hours of competing, Georgie lost their bet.
“I want a rematch.” She waved her arrow like a wand.
He smirked. “That was never part of our deal.”
“Then I want a new deal.”
Felton approached, placing his hand on the target and leaning casually. “Can you not accept defeat?”
Georgie huffed a breath. “Indeed. Congratulations on your victory.”
“Thank you.” He bowed. “Now tell me what my spoil is?”
She rolled her eyes. “I will try to refrain from competing at Cheapside.”
The lack of conviction in her voice gave him pause and he narrowed his gaze.
She held up her hands. “Promise.”
Somehow, he did not believe her.
Chapter 9
“George Halloway and Joseph Watkins.” Georgie told the man registering the archers. In light of the deal she’d made with Felton, she decided to use an altogether false surname. It would not do for him to find her out—not now. She had worked too hard, risked too much in order to compete today.
She glanced at Josie, who was wearing trousers, a loose-fitting man’s shirt, cap, and tall boots. Georgie was dressed in much the same manor. Both ladies had bound their breasts and hair then smudged their faces with coal.
Today they were men. Or at the least, boys on the cusp of manhood.
For many the day had barley started, for her, it had already been long. One that would grow longer when she returned home to the punishment that would most certainly be a waiting her. She’d left her family’s country estate soon after sunrise, sneaking out while Father and the duchess still slept, and rode the twenty minutes to London before retrieving Josephine. Then the pair had gone to the duke’s London mansion to prepare before heading to Cheapside. A nap would be most welcome.
“Your entry fee,” the man said without glancing up.
Georgie handed him the coins. He counted them, then gave her a set of numbers. “Good luck, gentlemen.”
“Thank you.” She accepted their numbers and handed Josie hers before they made their way to the practice area. Spectators already gathered to watch the tourney.
“Perhaps we should not be here.” Josie’s voice quivered.
“It is a little late to back out now.” Georgie led Josie to an open practice spot. “Do not fret.”
Georgie assumed her archer’s stance and notched an arrow against her bow-string before looking back at Josie. “Use the target next to me.” The girl nodded, and Georgie returned her attention to the target before her. She pulled her string tight, aimed, and released her arrow.
Bullseye. She smiled, then looked at Josie. Her bow shook as she clutched it. Georgie inwardly cringed. Poor Josie, she had to learn to master her nerves. Georgie set her bow aside and moved to stand near her friend. She whispered so as not to be over heard. “Remember what Theo taught you. Put all of your focus on the target. Pretend as though no one is watching.”
Josie’s hands stilled as she drew a deep breath.
“Good. Now aim and fire.”
She released her arrow, striking the bullseye a fraction from the center. Josie met Georgie’s eyes. “I can do this. Thank you Georgi—”
“I am happy to help, Joseph.” Georgie tipped her chin a notch for emphasis. They could not risk using their true names today. She moved back to her practice area and scanned the space. A great number of archer’s had turned out. At least fifty. Where was Felton? She searched the field again, her gaze landing on his tall, muscular frame. Good, he was on the opposite side of the practice area. Perhaps she should keep an eye on him, ensure she maintained a good distance from him.
Blast it. Who did she think she was kidding? She cared not for keeping a distance from him. In fact, were things as she wished, she would be in his arms. Georgie swallowed back the foolish urge. He was the last thing she needed to think about today.
After a long thirty minutes of practicing and trying to ignore Felton, the announcer called the archers to the field.
“Line up according to your numbers.”
Georgie moved with the crowd of excited men, searching for the target that bore her number, fifteen. What number was Felton? She found her place, Josie stepping up to the target beside her, then she glanced up and down the row, looking for him. Her gaze stalled about halfway down. Confidence radiated from Felton as he stood on his mark, feet separated, back straight. Turning her attention to her target, she assumed her own stance.
“Welcome one and all to the annual Cheapside Archery Tournament.”
Applause and calls from the crowd filled the air, adding to the excitement. Georgie smiled and nodded, her body sizzling with anticipation.
“We have with us today some of the best archers in all of England. We are going to determine which among them can claim the title of victor and take home the prize purse. Are you ready?”
Another round of applause erupted. Georgie shook her head to indicate that she was ready.
“There will be four rounds. At the conclusion of round one, the field will be narrowed to twenty-five. Archers, ready yourselves.”
Georgie lifted her bow, then shot a quick look of encouragement to Josie before placing her arrow and narrowing in on her target.
“Aim.” The announcer paused for a breath. “Release your arrows!”
Georgie’s heart thrummed as the thud of arrows hitting their targets filled the air. She grinned seeing hers sticking out of the bullseye’s center, then looked at Josie’s target. She, too, had hit dead center. Surely, they would both move on to the next round.
She sought out Felton’s target next, not at all surprised to see his arrow in the bullseye as well. Though from this angle she could not tell for certain whether or not it was sticking in the center.
“Archers, hold your fire while we determine this round and reset the field. You have approximately fifteen minutes should you wish to stretch your legs,” the announcer said.
Josie shook her head, signaling that she would like to remain in place. That suited Georgie as well. She had no need to move about and believed it safer to remain in place. However, several other men in the tourney strolled up and down the line of marks, assessing their competition. Georgie recognized a few men from other tourney’s she’d attended, but none recognized them as women.
Long moments passed before the announcer spoke again. “We have narrowed the field to twenty-five. Archers, if your number is called, return to your mark. Three, five, nine, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…”
Both she and Josie had made it through. She shot Josie a congratulatory wink as the announcer finished calling the numbers of those who had made it to the second round.
“Archers, ready yourselves.”
Again, Georgie assumed her stance, noting the uptick in the breeze. She adjusted her bow a notch higher.
“Aim.”
The crowd whistled and hollered.
“Fire!”
Georgie released her arrow, watching it sail toward her target, then stick in the center once more. Only then did she think to look and see if Felton had made it through round one. A quick glance proved he had, and her breath caught when their eyes met.
Felton narrowed his gaze on her and pressed his lips into a tight line.
Georgie averted her attention back to her target and waited for the results. Once more a break was given, then numbers were announced. This time, only ten archers made it through. Josie, Felton, and her included. Only three archers stood between her and Felton as they prepared for the third round.
“Ready…aim…fire!” the announcer called as the crowd roared.
Georgie’s hand twitched as she released her arrow and she squeezed her eyes shut afraid to see where it would stick. With a sigh, she opened them. Thank heavens. She’d still managed to stick the bull’s eye, slightly off cente
r, but close all the same.
“Archers, five of you will continue. Please remain in place until we determine which among you will advance to the next round.”
Georgie looked at Josie’s target. She had sunk her arrow into the outer edge of the bullseye. Josie met her gaze and gave a sharp nod. Georgie smiled, whiping her sweaty palms on her trousers.
“Archers three, nine, fifteen…”
Georgie was safe. She released a pent up breath.
“Twenty-two and forty.”
Drat, Josie was out.
“Spectators, who are you rooting for?”
The noise and excitement was so palpable that Georgie’s soul responded to it. Her heart beat faster, palms sweat more, and stomach fluttered in the most pleasant of ways. This was it, her chance to best a field full of men. It mattered not that no one outside of her and Josie would know she’d done it.
“Good luck, Georgie.”
She whipped her head to the side, her gaze colliding with Felton’s fiery glare. Bloody hell, he knew already. Would he keep her confidence? It didn’t matter. One corner of her mouth turned up. “Best of luck to you as well.”
“Ready.”
Georgie concentrated on her bow and perfecting her stance.
“Aim.”
She sucked in a deep breath and held it as she adjusted her aim.
“Fire!”
Her gaze trailed the arrow’s flight until it smacked into the center of the target. Her spirit’s soared. She’d executed a perfect shot.
“Archer fifteen is our victor.”
Felton hardly heard the crowd’s cheers as Georgie was declared the winner. All he could do was stare at her. He could scarcely believe the little hoyden had broke their bargain and competed. He wanted to throttle her. To drag her home and tell the duke. Most of all he wanted to wrap her in his arms and keep her safely in his embrace for all time.
Dammit, he cared about her. Worried about her. Wanted her.
For all these reasons and more, he had thrown his shot, allowing her to win. Surely, she had a good reason for defying him. A desperate reason for breaking their deal. Deep down, he cared more about her happiness than his own.
Lady Archer's Creed 02 - Georgina Page 8
