Lady Archer's Creed 02 - Georgina Read online

  They all appeared to be of a similar age to her and most were fashionably dressed. It seemed the girls overwhelmingly favored a more mature look with upswept hair or their tresses loose around the shoulders. Georgie preferred the same styles—elegant and sophisticated. The similarity between her and the other girls put her more at ease as she listened to the headmistress speak.

  “Let us all venture outside for Lady Georgie’s sport demonstration.” Everyone stood with haste, as if they wanted nothing more than go out of doors. “Will you require time to change into a riding habit or bathing dress, Lady Georgie?”

  Equestrian sports were a strong suite, but Georgie had no desire to mount an unfamiliar horse. The last thing she needed was to be tossed from the saddle. As for swimming attire, she would rather perish on the spot. “That will not be necessary,” she replied.

  “As you wish.” Miss Emmeline indicated the double doors that had been opened to reveal a grassy area with stations set up. Each one housed equipment for various outdoor sports. The sun sat low in the sky signaling the late hour as Georgie followed the other girls out.

  “There is also a lake if you would like to demonstrate a talent for rowing.” Mrs. Emmeline offered.

  Georgie had never been a fan of lakes or rivers. She found that nasty creatures resided in such bodies of water. The risk of toppling in was far too great for her to ever venture onto them. “I would rather not.”

  “Very well.” The headmistress continued toward the sporting stations set up ahead of them.

  As Georgie walked between the five stations, she could not ignore the teachers, along with the students, watching her, anticipation plain on their faces. Anxiety tickled her spine. She passed the first two stations without paying much attention. The third was set up for shuttlecock. A game she’d played at several garden parties and found quite fun. Still she did not feel it to be a particular talent of hers.

  The next held a row of guns—she had been shooting a few times but was admittedly not very good. Her father, bless him, had tried to no avail for an entire summer to improve her skill, but she could not get beyond the terrible noise and jarring kick one experienced when shooting guns.

  Her spirits soared as she reached the final station. A row of pegs with archery bows hung in perfect order. Several yards away, a line of hay-stuffed targets with red and white circles painted on them stood at the ready, dotted with holes from use. Archery was a definite strong suite of hers. She had spent countless hours with Father plying the skill. A fair amount of time had been spent in competition and practice with Felton as well. Her heart splinted at the mere thought of him, and she drew in a deep breath pushing back against the heartache. Now was not the time.

  Georgie moved to the bows and selected one from the pegs before retrieving an arrow. With the target in line and her stance perfected, she raised the bow, then nocked the arrow against the string.

  She pulled back and stared down the arrow at the red bullseye on the target. She released the arrow and it soared through the air. The spectators broke out in applause at the exact moment Georgie’s arrow entered the edge of the bullseye.

  It was not exact center, but she was thrilled all the same as she turned to her classmates and teachers with a broad grin. She’d managed the shot despite her warring emotions and salvaged a bit of her pride in the process.

  A blonde-haired girl approached her, coming to stand with one hand on her hip. “A lucky shot I suppose.”

  The girl’s stance set Georgie back. She seemed to be angry, but why? “That was a typical shot for me. Are you an archer?” Georgie asked.

  “I am the best archer here at Mrs. Emmeline’s.” The girl coked her hip slightly.

  “Perhaps we can practice together.” Georgie offered a slight smile. “My name is—”

  “I am aware of your name, Georgie. As for practicing together…” The girl dropped her hand from her hip and glanced at the target. “I think that would be tolerable.”

  As tough as the girl was making herself out to be, Georgie saw a flicker of amusement beneath her arrogance. Mayhap the two of them would become friends. The girl was likely demonstrating her superiority. Georgie had witnessed such behavior in the past, usually among the highest-ranking peers. One might even expect her to act in such a way being a duke’s daughter, but she never saw the need nor had the desire.

  She would wager there was a lot more to this girl than her attitude.

  The blonde turned and took a few steps toward the still open double doors before stopping to look back at Georgie. “Do not simply stand there. It is time for the evening meal. Come along.”

  Georgie moved to join her. “Might I have your name?”

  “Oh, very well. I am Miss Adeline.” Her lips twitched as though she was suppressing a smile. “I suppose we had just as well become friendly as I am quite certain we will be roommates after the archery skill you demonstrated and the complete mess you made of your vocal presentation.”

  Adeline laughed, and Georgie could not help but join in. “My singing did prove rather shameful, I am afraid.”

  “It was hideous. If I were you, I would blame it on nerves.”

  Georgie’s cheeks warmed. “It was rather trying being put on display in such a way, without warning and such.”

  “Regardless, you redeemed yourself with the multiplication and archery. You will do just fine here at Mrs. Emmeline’s School of Education and Decorum for Ladies of Outstanding Quality.”

  Georgie grinned. “Indeed. We shall all reach our full potential.”

  Both girls laughed as they entered the building, drawing the eyes of their classmates and stern looks from their teachers. In that moment, Georgie sensed she and Adeline would become the best of friends.

  Chapter 1

  Seven years later

  March 1826

  Felton Crauford’s future hinged on the Duke of Balfour agreeing to allow him to mine on his land—property that had been stolen from Felton’s own family centuries ago. Swallowing his pride, Felton looked across the extravagant polished mahogany desk that separated him from the duke. It pained him to ask for what should already be his right to do. Unfortunately, he had no other choice. “Your Grace, I have discovered a mineral vein running from my father’s estate into yours.”

  The Duke of Belfour narrowed his dark eyes. “Interesting, tell me more.”

  Felton swallowed hard, hating every second he spent in the expansive office with the shrewd man. Still, the alternative was more unbearable. The life of a doctor, soldier, or clergyman would never suit him. He belonged among the land, working in and with nature. Mining was his passion. The same would never be true of another profession.

  There were no other options for him—even if the duke refused his request. Felton met the duke’s eyes. “As you are aware, I started mining my father’s property last year. The coal deposit is rich and I have made a success of the mine.”

  “Indeed. I have heard tell on the subject.” The duke’s steely grey eyes softened a fraction. “Do, go on.”

  “The mineral deposit running into your estate is richer than most that I have seen.” Felton paused, drawing in a deep breath. He attempted to read the duke’s schooled features with no success. There was nothing for it but to press on and hope for the best. “I would like to reach an agreement with you that would allow me to mine on your estate.”

  The duke steepled his aristocratic fingers as he studied Felton for several heartbeats. “How would the arrangement benefit me?”

  His Grace’s relaxed posture bespoke to his interest while his steely stare pointed toward something all together different. Felton could not gauge whether the duke was genuinely interested or merely trifling with him.

  He fought the urge to glance away from the man’s penetrating stare. “I propose a percentage share. As I said, the mine will produce a vast amount of coal rewarding us both financially.” He smiled at the resolve and tenacity in his tone, grateful that at least his voice remained strong und
er the duke’s scrutiny.

  “I am already a wealthy man.” His Grace brushed a stray lock of brown and gray hair from his forehead. Despite the slight signs of aging, His Grace still appeared fit. The grey highlighting his dark hair and fine weathered lines of his face only served to add to his authoritative, worldly look.

  Felton swallowed back his rising desperation. He had to secure the rights to mine the duke’s land. Failure was not an option. He squared his shoulders. “If you grant me the rights, you will add to your wealth. What man does not wish to see his fortune grow?”

  “Greed has been the downfall of many men.” The duke chuckled.

  “I am not driven by greed, merely a desire to support myself financially.” Felton glanced at his lap, retrieved the papers resting there, and sat them on the desk before the duke. “Here are the reports I have on the mineral deposit. Earning projections, geographical data, and such. Do have a look.”

  His Grace lifted the stack of parchment, then began thumbing through them. “Umhum.” He raised a brow as he perused one of the documents. “What percentage share are you prepared to offer me?” he asked without looking up from the report.

  “Ten percent of all profits for as long as I operate the mine.”

  The duke glanced up, his eyes narrowed. “You insult me.”

  Felton’s pulse beat through his veins. The insult was in him having to grovel to this pompous popinjay in the first place. He choked back his protest. “Twenty percent.”

  “Fifty,” His Grace tapped a long finger on the desk.

  Felton sprang from his chair, outrage sweeping through him like a wild fire. “Surely, you jest.”

  The duke lowered the reports, his eyes never leaving Felton. “My land is valuable. Should I allow you to dig into it, the return must be worth the damage you cause.”

  “Twenty-five percent and not a farthing more.” Felton held the man’s stare unwilling to bend further.

  He wanted to flee the room, but forced himself to remain rooted there. Bloody hell, he’d surely ruined his opportunity by allowing the duke to get a rise out of him. He should sit back down, attempt to smooth the feathers he’d most certainly ruffled, but blast it, his pride demanded he stay the course, hold his ground.

  Felton slid the abandoned reports closer to the duke’s restless hand. “Send word when you have reached a decision.”

  His heart hammered as he made his way down the maze of hallways leading to the front entrance. What would he do if the duke refused?

  Maybe he should concede and accept the fifty percent split. He swallowed hard. Doing so would be likening to cutting his own throat.

  The Duke of Balfour was an astute man. He would recognize the great profit to be made even at twenty-five percent and come to an agreement. Felton need only bide his time.

  “You.”

  Felton turned his attention toward the voice to find none other than Lady Georgina strolling toward him. “Lady Bug.” He had given her the name years ago when they were both children. She’d had the most annoying way of finding herself in his proximity, and more often than not, in need of rescuing.

  Though, back in those days, she always seemed pleased to see him. Judging by the way her lips pressed into a straight line and her eyes narrowed, he’d wager that was not the case today. How could he possibly have vexed her when he’d not seen her since she left for finishing school seven years ago?

  He perused her, his gaze traveling from her riotous pinned back curls to the curves of her bust and waist, before trailing to the hem of her gown. Lady Georgina had blossomed into a woman since their last encounter—a rather becoming one at that.

  He drew closer. “You’re cross.”

  “How astute of you to notice.” She notched her chin.

  The fire in her cool green eyes captivated him. She had always had the most unusual eyes, cat like in their tip-tilted shape, but he’d never found them quite so alluring before. “Might I ask why you are vexed?”

  “You ought to know.” She moved past him, continuing down the hall, her skirt swishing with her steps, blond curls bouncing around her shoulders. Sunlight filtered through the windows casting her in an ethereal glow. Too bad her attitude was hellfire and brimstone.

  Felton stared after her, utterly confused. The last time he had seen her she’d behaved strangely, but they had not quarreled. He’d been relaxing in his family parlor and she’d come to say farewell. As he recalled it, she told him she was being sent to school and he’d wished her luck. A rather mundane meeting, truly.

  He raked his gaze over her retreating form. Bloody hell, what game did she play at? Regardless, she had his interest.

  Felton strode after her. “Lady Bug, wait.”

  Lady Georgina stiffened, her slippered feet biting into the carpet. She had once adored the nickname Lady Bug, however, she no longer saw it as an endearment. Not since that day—the one Felton allowed her to leave for Miss Emmeline’s without as much as an affectionate kiss on her gloved hand.

  She’d fancied herself in love with him and carried his rejection to school with her. She’d been heartbroken, cast away by her father and stepmother, then rejected by the man she loved. A wound she’d believed would never heal. Judging by the stabbing pain she now experienced, that belief had been true.

  He would never hurt her again. She would not allow him the power to do so.

  She looked out a lead-glass window, pinning her gaze to a distant tree. “Please refrain from calling me by pet names. I am Lady Georgina.”

  “You have always been Lady Bug to me.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “What is the matter with you?”

  Georgie turned to him, the old heartache excruciatingly fresh despite her best efforts to suppress it. “We are no longer children. It is improper for you to address me in such a way.” She averted her gaze. “In fact, you should not be speaking to me alone in hallways or touching me so boldly either. Do excuse me.”

  She took a step, part of her desperately wishing to stay in his company—to have her say. She should simply leave. Forget all about the past—all about him.

  Felton could not help that she’d loved him. He had never given her cause to believe he cared for her in a romantic way. Still, he had to have known.

  “Not until you tell me how I have upset you.” He implored her with his gentle tone and warm expression.

  Georgie would rather perish than confess her youthful love and ensuing heartbreak. She pressed her lips together, her mind scrambling. He would not leave her if she did not offer an explanation. After all, he had always been her gallant knight, ready to rescue her from folly or make her smile when she was blue.

  Those very qualities were why she’d fallen in love with him.

  “I am upset my archery practice did not go as planned,” she lied.

  He lifted a sandy-blond brow and leaned one strong shoulder against the plaster wall. “Archery, you say.”

  Drat! He did not believe her. Still, she pressed on. “Indeed. It was a rather disgraceful practice.” In their youth, they had sometimes shot together. She should not ask, still, curiosity got the better of her good sense. “Do you still partake of the sport?”

  “Archery makes for a great distraction. I compete regularly.” He grinned. “And I rarely lose.”

  “I imagine you are still quite good.” Georgie could picture him in their youth. His stance had been flawless, his aim nearly always true. For him, archery had come easy—as though he’d been born with a bow in his hand. A fact that had always irritated her since she practiced so hard to be as good as she was.

  “If I were not well adept, the act would not have any appeal. As I said, archery is but a welcome distraction for me.”

  Georgie crossed her arms, a frown tugging at her lips. “Do you intend to compete in the upcoming Cheapside tourney?”

  “Yes.”

  Her muscles tensed. Felton was a distraction she did not need while on the archery field. She must win—she had to prove herself. Her dream
had long been to become the best archer in all of England and regain her father’s attention. She’d not stand for him getting in her way.

  Worse, what if he recognized her, even in her manly ruse? Cheapside was an all-male tourney. Would he call her out? Ruin her chance at winning? She needed the money from this tourney to enter the Championship Archery Tournament next month.

  “Furthermore, I intend to be victorious.” Confidence shone in his eyes.

  She forced a nonchalant expression. It would not do for him to notice her rising panic. “I imagine you do, as does everyone else who competes.”

  He studied her, pushing himself from the wall. “Spoken like one who competes herself.”

  What she would give for him to stop talking and remove himself from her presence. She forced a nonchalant smile. “On occasion. At women’s events.” It would be foolish to show him all of her cards.

  “I would have thought you to have abandoned the sport now that you’ve grown into a woman.” He raked his gaze over her body. “Ladies have no business competing in archery tournaments.”

  Georgie’s cheeks flooded with heat born of embarrassment and anger. “Perhaps you would do best not to think about me at all, as you clearly no longer understand me.”

  “One thing is certain. After all these years, your character remains unchanged.”

  What the devil did he mean by that? Georgie opened her mouth to speak, but he’d already disappeared around the corner.

  Chapter 2

  Georgie squared her shoulders and continued toward Father’s office. Her stepmother had kept them apart long enough. Besides, Georgie needed his assistance. She paused at the door to knock. “Father, may I come in?”

  “Yes.”

  Georgie pushed open the wooden panel and stepped into the office. “I have not had occasion to keep company with you in a fortnight.” She dropped a kiss on his check before settling into a high back chair near his desk.