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

by Alicia Cameron

  The next day Georgette rose early, hoping to grasp some thinking time to herself by dint of an early morning ride. The sun had not fully risen, and she could view from her window some fog that lay on the dry moat that surrounded the castle. Perfect! Few would venture from bed yet. She dressed herself (with some difficulty - all the maids having other duties this morning) in her riding habit, a fetching red velvet affair that had been bought for her first season, and more suited to London than the muddy fields around Castle Fortune. She almost escaped unseen, but at the foot of the stairs she was waylaid by a maid who told her Mrs Scroggins wished to tell her that they were running out of eggs. ‘For she says the hens have stopped laying on account of the number of carriages passing the hen house all of a sudden.’ The old maid’s face said she doubted this, and so did Georgette. ‘She says she cannot guarantee enough eggs for the duration of the house party, miss.’

  ‘Tell her to send to Lady Ludlow, she has talked of a glut of eggs,’ answered Georgette, anxious to be gone. At that moment, two gentlemen came down the stairs, similarly adorned for riding.

  ‘Ah, Miss Fortune, you have the same notion as us. Nothing sets one up for a good breakfast like an early morning ride,’ said Sir Justin Faulkes, evidently glad to see her.

  Georgette, trapped, said pleasantly, ‘Indeed.’ She encountered a look from his companion Lord Onslow, who seemed to be adjuring himself to remember which daughter she was, and at the same time somehow to doubt the sincerity of her reply, and she ran on, controlling the inevitable tremors at meeting Onslow. ‘I trust you slept well, gentlemen?’

  ‘Oh, we did, Miss Fortune, very well. But then Lucian and I are old soldiers, ye know, and can sleep in any billet.’

  This did not seem quite polite, comparing their castle to a Spanish barn, perhaps, and for a second her eyes crossed Onslow’s, and his eyes wrinkled a little in response. It was only the second time that they had exchanged such a look, but it shook her once more and she turned towards the door.

  ‘Let us ride together, Miss Fortune, I beg you,’ said Sir Justin.

  ‘Of course, but my old nag cannot keep up with your fine steeds, I’m sure, and would only slow you down. Alas, she cannot do more than canter. You should make your way and I will follow.’

  ‘Nonsense, a canter is sufficient for us until we know the terrain. Is that not right, Lucian?’

  Lord Onslow bowed his blond curls and said what was proper to this, and soon she found herself between the two men, riding three abreast.

  ‘We met in London, of course,’ said Lord Onslow politely. Georgette knew he did not remember at all. ‘Where was that again?’ he added, as though it was on the tip of his tongue.

  Georgette could not stop herself meeting his gaze once more, with a humorous look, which made him slightly abashed. Then she said, ‘Several times, I believe. But we shared one dance at Lord Grandiston’s ball.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Lord Onslow, ‘Of course,’ he met her gaze again and added as diversion, ‘And you have danced with Sir Justin, of course, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh yes!’ said Georgette, vaguely.

  ‘Many times,’ said Sir Justin warmly, but when Georgette rouged and looked embarrassed, he moved ahead to spare her, since the road had narrowed to allow but two horses.

  Onslow seemed to divine something in the interchange, and he began to joke with her to ease her embarrassment. ‘You have guessed the shocking truth: I do not remember our encounter,’ he said, laughing confidingly, ‘I can only say in excuse that one has danced with so many young girls in a season.’

  ‘Well it was two years since. I am sad not to have left an impression, but oh, yes, how can you remember them all?’ She exaggerated the last word and he laughed back, though a trifle embarrassed.

  ‘I’m sure I enjoyed our dance prodigiously.’

  ‘Not particularly, I think. Your thoughts were otherwise engaged.’

  He sobered, not pretending to misunderstand her. ‘I hope I was not too abominably rude?’

  Georgette, sorry to have stopped their jousting and having made him serious, replied, ‘Your excellent upbringing sustained you to the end. You were everything that is polite.’

  He laughed. ‘But hardly engaging, I conclude. I heartily apologise. If I had known you only a little better, as I do now, I might have had more amusement. As it is, it is all my loss.’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ said Georgette lightly, trying not to treasure this compliment, ‘I thought so at the time.’ She tried to carry off this piece of impudence with a quick rise to her brows and apparently it worked, for he smiled again.

  ‘You, Miss Fortune,’ said Lord Onslow, narrowly regarding her, ‘are not in the common way.’

  Sir Justin heard this, having slowed down as the road broadened again. ‘You are quite right, Lucian. I have remarked it myself.’

  Again, Sir Justin’s smile was too warm, and Georgette sat forward. ‘Let us canter, gentlemen, so that we may work up an appetite for breakfast.’

  The word made it real and when they entered the castle, energised, they found some guests already at the table for breakfast, and Georgette ran upstairs to dress.

  She found Julia White coming down the stairs, dressed in a sprigged muslin gown, with pink ribbons to match adorning her shining blond head. ‘Oh, Miss Fortune, dear Georgette,’ she amended, remembering the new intimacy she had claimed, ‘You were riding this morning, and is that Lord Onslow?’ The gentlemen had obviously passed her on the stairs.

  ‘Yes, I believe that His Lordship and Sir Justin intend to ride each morning before breakfast.’

  ‘Before breakfast?’

  ‘Yes.’ Georgette, feeling at once buoyed up and endangered by this morning’s ride made a decision to protect her sanity. ‘You like to ride, my dear Julia. You must join us.’ This would at least save her from Onslow’s attention, which was pulling her ever deeper into his orbit in a way she could never have foreseen, which left her tingling, and would surely drive her madder than her grief. But a look at this vision of beauty was to know her fate. Better to forward it sooner, so that she could be at peace.

  ‘Perhaps I shall,’ said Julia, thoughtfully. ‘If you wish it, my dear Georgette.’

  ‘Indeed. Now I must dress for breakfast, the ride has left me hungry, I fear.’

  ‘Of course!’ answered Julia. Georgette picked up her habit to mount the stairs again and had to look over her shoulder when Julia White asked, ‘Georgette! What is the scuttling I hear in my bedroom?’

  Mice. She must tell Dickson to put the cat in Miss White’s room today and to find the mouse hole and fill it. ‘Oh, that might be the ghost!’ she said.

  Julia only laughed and went downstairs, adjuring her to get dressed quickly.

  Georgette ran down the stairs like a hoyden in case of scarcity on the table. Sir Justin saw her arrive, seemed to fixate on the rose-coloured muslin she wore, then smiled.

  She suddenly remembered the day when she had worn the dress last, with a maroon velvet spencer atop against the chill on the carriage ride. She had enjoyed his company very much, until she viewed Lord Onslow walking along the park path towards them, accompanying Miss White, whose maid walked behind. Her mama, Mrs White, was sitting in a stationary carriage awaiting them, and Georgette had seen the smug look on that lady’s face. All this had taken just two seconds to absorb. Sir Justin had been talking to her throughout, and called to attention, Georgette had looked back at him. She saw the warmth of his regard, and knew she could never return it as he deserved. It was sad, but after that day she knew she could not accept his invitations anymore. On the way back he offered, and as gently as she could, she had refused him.

  Now, the company were all assembled and talking, and it took Sir Justin to set a chair for her. A few heads turned at this, her brother George’s with a raised eyebrow, and her father said to himself loudly, ‘Promising, promising! But I won’t get my hopes up.’ But this was largely muffled by a louder than normal Lady Bailey asking her husband t
o pass the butter. Sir Justin whispered quickly, as he bent over the chair near her ear and set it beneath her, ‘How well I remember that dress,’ which caused Georgette to blush and look down. As she looked up, her father’s words were just dying away, and she met Lord Onslow’s eye. Again, they exchanged a look, with the warm understanding of the absurdity of her father. It shook her once more, but she would not misunderstand it. This they did share at least, but…

  Jocasta came down last of all, in a gauze gown whose lines alerted Georgette that her sister had chosen vanity rather than the comfort of the flannel petticoat, and her father said loudly, ‘Move up, George, let Jocasta sit next to His Lordship,’ meaning Paxton, who sat at George’s other side. Lord Paxton looked happy and embarrassed both, and Jocasta was largely unaffected, just saying, ‘Oh yes, because I wish to discuss the book you gave me, my lord.’ If Georgette were to look at Onslow again, sitting just opposite her, she knew she would laugh aloud. She could feel his delight in the absurdity of this bizarre house party rippling towards her from across the table.

  Miss White turned her heavenly blue eyes on Sir Justin. ‘Dear Georgette has invited me to join you on your morning ride tomorrow, Sir Justin. I believe I shall.’

  ‘Capital!’ enthused Sir Justin, but with a false note in his voice. Georgette could not look at Onslow.

  After a second, the marquis said in a raised voice, ‘Does anyone else wish to join the ride tomorrow morning? It is wonderful country.’

  Lord Bailey said, with his quiet affability, ‘I don’t mind keeping country hours, my boy, but not before breakfast.’ No one else seemed inclined to join them, and Onslow looked dispirited. She would have to tease out the reason for his avoidance of Miss White when he was so obviously in love. Perhaps Julia might confide? No, Georgette knew her enough to know this intimacy was still assumed. It may become real, but not yet. Would Sir Justin betray his friend? It would depend how Georgette asked.

  Papa was looking at Katerina and Lord Paxton, nodding his head and saying, ‘Good, good!’ and Georgette, fearing he might adjure them for a walk alone together or some such thing, coughed and said, ‘It is our habit to take a walk some mornings to the village. It is a fine day, so I suggest that the whole party go so that you may become acquainted with the area.’

  George looked at her, rather annoyed that she should be so forthcoming in making plans, but when Miss White, whom he so obviously admired, said, ‘Oh, do let us,’ he said, ‘By all means.’

  Lady Bailey said, ‘It is fully three miles, my dear. I think that you young people might walk and some others of us will ride, or drive. But an excellent suggestion.’

  ‘Katerina and Lord Paxton can take my phaeton,’ said Papa, and Georgette groaned.

  But Jocasta, not really understanding the stratagem behind this, said, ‘Why should we do that, Papa? When all my friends are walking?’

  ‘Idiots,’ muttered Papa, ‘I have no offspring who are not idiots.’

  It was impossible not to look. Onslow’s eyes were brim-full with laughter, and hers too, when Julia White leaned over to her and kindly said, ‘Do not be embarrassed, my dear Georgette, I don’t suppose many people heard him.’ Georgette, still with eyes on Onslow’s, almost burst when he widened his own in delight. She doesn’t understand, he was saying, can’t she see? But then the delicious moment was over and he looked at Julia with a soft look. He’s thinking how kind Miss White is, thought Georgette, and of course he was right. Her heart had sunk but she thought, “This is what you want, isn’t it? For their rift to be healed?”

  Sir Justin, whom she had only just resolved to talk to apart, seemed to have the same idea. ‘If you are quite ready, Miss Fortune, we could lead the way.’

  Was he too pressing? Would it be to encourage him? Or was she putting a vain interpretation on his kindness? ‘I am sorry sir, but I must visit my Great-Aunt Hester this morning, on a cottage on the estate, you know.’

  ‘Shall we meet your great-aunt while we are here, Miss - Georgette?’ asked Julia.

  ‘She keeps very much to herself and seldom visits, I’m afraid,’ answered Georgette, with a twinge of guilt. In fact, Aunt Hester visited the castle fairly frequently — but only when she could be assured that Baron Fortune was elsewhere.

  ‘Oh,’ Sir Justin said, now close to her in the milling throng who were fetching shawls and bonnets and changing their satin slippers for boots. ‘Then at least will you follow us afterwards on horseback? I imagine we shall be delayed in the village inn for refreshments some time, and then I could lead your horse and you could walk back with us.’

  Georgette said pleasantly, ‘Perhaps, but do not wait for me. I may be delayed.’

  Lady Bailey interrupted, ‘Sir Justin, I cannot find my husband. Can you find a servant and ask to have my carriage put to? I fear my poor feet will not allow long walks.’

  Sir Justin bowed. ‘I think the servants otherwise engaged, my lady, but I will happily see to the matter myself.’ He bowed briefly to Georgette and went off, and Lady Bailey said, searching for her reticule, ‘The dresses of my day permitted more things to be stored in our pockets without being seen. Today we must have reticules so that our affairs do not ruin the line of our dresses. I declare that more than a handkerchief in a pocket can be seen in fashionable gowns.’ She moved away.

  Georgette knew who was standing beside her without turning. ‘My friend knows you rather better than I realised, Miss Fortune,’ he remarked quietly.

  She breathed, unsure at first what to say. But beneath the lightness, they both knew there was a question. Something of the spirit of the morning ride and the exchanged glances of hilarity made her say, ‘We have agreed that he is my friend, too.’ She ventured for lightness. The problem was, she felt he understood her a little too well.

  ‘I see,’ Onslow said musingly. His understanding was confirmed by him adding, bluntly, ‘Why did you invite Miss White tomorrow?’

  ‘I believe she likes the exercise,’ Georgette said colourlessly.

  ‘Not so far as I remember,’ His Lordship said, ‘and certainly not at that time of the morning.’ Georgette ventured no remark, and the press of people around were chatting and heading for the door, finally ready for the walk. She tied the ribbons of her bonnet and took her shawl, which Onslow took from her and disposed around her shoulders, standing too close for her comfort. ‘Do you have a suitable mount for her?’

  ‘Well, I’m sure my brother would let her borrow his,’ answered Georgette, realising her mistake.

  ‘Falcon? A fine steed. Trust me, it would be kinder that you let Miss White ride your mare while you borrow Falcon.’

  ‘Thank you for the advice. I would not wish Julia to be embarrassed.’

  ‘You did not ride with her in London?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I did not have that pleasure. I must go, sir, and you must catch the pack of young people.’

  ‘But I am so old now, and intend to ride.’

  Though Georgette meant to get far away from him as fast as possible, she could not resist sharing a smile with him at this. ‘I’m sure our marshall, Siddons, can provide a mounting block for your aged limbs.’

  He bowed ironically and she left, on the path to her aunt’s house.

  Did he have to be so very fascinating? And did he have to have taken her up so, thrown into her path at every moment and laughing with her? Goodness knows her task was hard enough without him choosing to get to know her in this way. She knew herself to have made so much of a two second look nearly two years ago, as to have destroyed her life. Had she not exchanged that look with the stranger that turned out to be Onslow, would she now be Lady Faulkes? She supposed she might have said yes to Sir Justin. It was possible, even probable, since her father had made her duty plain to her. The baronet was good looking, intelligent and good natured, and he offered her the longed-for escape, far from Castle Fortune. There she would have been a person of consequence, not the most overlooked daughter of an eccentric baron. It was a lowering th
ought. How different her life could have been. Perhaps still could, if only she could end this awful, mad conviction that Onslow was the only person in the world who would ever understand her. Blue eyes laughing at her, sharing the world’s absurdities, now so many times, not just once. And yet it wasn’t enough, she knew it now. She must never mistake his humour for unity. He laughed with many people, she had watched him for one whole season, and she knew. It was special for her, but not for him. He wanted the beautiful Miss White.

  What on earth had gone wrong there?

  She had reached her great-aunt’s and once she had told her how the first day had gone on at the castle, she resolved to do as Sir Justin had requested, without delay. She would give the baronet no encouragement, in case his feelings were still engaged, but she would contrive to ask him about his friend and Miss White.

  Chapter 7

  It was a pleasant ride to the village which Georgette embarked upon after leaving her aunt’s, whose strictures on her father and brother still rang in her ears. Georgette had told of the arrangements, then repeated the mutterings of her papa, but it had not served to make Aunt Hester amused, only angry. ‘Do not let him use you thus, Georgette, for if ever a man could be said to lack the quality of gratitude and compassion it is my nephew, the great Baron Fortune. Simply refuse to help, and let the high baron deal with the resultant disaster.’

  Since both of them knew this was quite impossible, Georgette kissed her and said goodbye as swiftly as she could. Though her Bessie was not the swiftest steed, she felt somehow that she was travelling at the right pace to shake the turbulence inside her away, and allow her to meet the party with a degree of the placidity that usually masked her feelings. She passed some carriages on the way and her father leaned out of one and shouted wrathfully, ‘Portia said you went to your aunt’s. Whatever for?’

  ‘Eggs!’ she called back briefly, turning her head and riding on. She saw the hand of Lady Bailey drag him back in. Well at least someone had taken note of her absence. She had attracted more conversation today than in years.