Chapter Two
A s Matthew made his way to the refreshments, he caught sight of his younger cousin and came up short. Eleanor was standing entirely too close to the Earl of Fetterill, the married Lord Fetterill, a man known to be on the hunt for a new mistress.
He scanned the ballroom for Eleanor’s mother, dreading what he knew he would have to do if she was still cowering in the ladies’ retiring room. Her thankless daughter’s removal from possible ruin would fall to him. A most undesirable situation, since Eleanor would just as happily trap him in a marriage of convenience as she would any other eligible male of the peerage.
“Anything I can do to help, old man?” His closest friend and Blessing’s husband, Baron Thorne Knightwood stepped into his path. “Even with your mask on, you’ve a face like thunder.” Knightwood followed his line of sight. “Ah… Never mind. I should have known it had something to do with her. ”
“No good deed goes unpunished. I should have rescued Agnus on the condition that Eleanor stay in India and marry the man her father’s family chose for her.”
“I very much doubt Mrs. Sykesbury would have agreed to that. She appears most devoted to her daughter and quite blind to her behavior.” Knightwood shifted in place, scanning the large room with a sweeping gaze. “I do not see her, though. Shall I interrupt your cousin’s conversation for you?” He tipped his head in her direction. “You have rescued me once or twice, as I recall. Time to return the favor?”
While tempted, Matthew decided against it. “No. I would not do that to you and your wife—who, by the way, is famished and champing at the bit for them to announce supper. The last thing you need is the hungry woman carrying your child to be enraged with jealousy.”
Knightwood’s demeanor immediately shifted to one of concern. Even behind his purple satin mask, his expression shouted regret. “Old Atterley loves to hear himself talk. Our meeting lasted longer than I expected.”
“I am sure if you take Blessing a plate of those Naples biscuits along with some lemonade, she will forgive you.” Matthew kept his focus locked on his cousin, willing her to step back and put more distance between herself and the lecherous lord. The reckless, dark-haired wanton in her glittering mask that matched the silvery sheen of her satin gown glanced his way and smiled.
“You do realize she knows what she is doing?” Knightwood asked as he filled a plate with an enormous pile of biscuits, then accepted a goblet of lemonade from a servant.
“Making me look the fool?”
“No. She thinks she is stirring your jealousy.”
“She should know better than that by now.” Matthew lowered his voice even more. “I want her married and out of my home as soon as possible.”
Knightwood brightened. “To make room for a wife, I hope? A particular Broadmere sister, even? One with whom you danced this evening not once, but twice, according to the whisperings I heard while plowing through the guests?”
“You are as insufferable as your wife.”
Knightwood bowed. “Thank you.” Dodging a rather portly fellow headed for the refreshments, he nodded in the direction from which Matthew had just come. “I best get these to Essie. And know this, old friend—she is very protective of Fortuity and thinks the two of you are a perfect match. I know how you feel about marriage after… Well, after. So, consider yourself warned. If Essie has you in her sights for her sister, the issue will not go away easily.”
Matthew stepped aside while extending an arm to open a path for his old friend. “Best get those to the lady. A hungry woman is not a happy woman.” His past was a closed subject even though it had cemented his future. He would not discuss it, not even with Knightwood.
Before heading off to join his famished wife, Knightwood nodded his understanding of the unspoken request. As he disappeared into the crowd, Eleanor appeared at Matthew’s side.
“Your glower frightened my prey before the trap could spring,” she said.
“Your prey is married, cousin.” He refused to mince words as he had done when the Sykesburys first arrived. “You need a husband, not a benefactor who will cast you aside once your beauty fades.”
Rather than the crestfallen attitude he had hoped to trigger, Eleanor beamed at him. “So you think I am beautiful?”
“Where is your mother?”
A haughty sneer curled the girl’s lovely mouth, revealing her true nature. “She promised we could stay until after supper, or have you already forgotten?”
“If you do not adjust your behavior and purport yourself in a manner befitting a virtuous lady seeking a socially acceptable match, we will leave immediately, no matter what your mother promised. Am I understood?”
She stared up at him, narrowing her dark eyes. “You have no right to speak to me in such a manner. Especially not publicly.”
“I have maintained contact with your father’s side of the family, and they have assured me their home remains open to you, since you are the last of their lineage, even though they consider you a foolish, stubborn girl. Need I clarify what that could mean for you?”
She backed up a step and caught a hand to her throat. “You would not dare. Think of what that would do to Mama.”
He shrugged. “It could not cause her any more damage than her daughter becoming a courtesan.”
“I was merely talking to Lord Fetterill,” she said in a hissing whisper.
“If you had positioned yourself any closer to the man, you would have been inside his waistcoat.”
“I hate you.”
“Good.” He rolled his shoulders, attempting to uncoil the weighty tension of his poor decision to bring his cousins under his roof. As he had learned long ago, but apparently failed to remember, no good deed went unpunished. “I suggest you disappear into the ladies’ retiring room for a while and give Lord Fetterill a chance to forget about you and latch on to someone else.”
Eleanor flounced away, but Matthew noted the direction she chose was the one he had suggested.
“Well done, my lord.”
He cast a sideways glance at Fortuity and immediately relaxed. Strange how she always had that effect on him. He tried to assume a sternness and failed. “Someone once advised me that poking one’s nose where it does not belong could be considered quite rude.”
“No. I said it was quite rude, no consideration necessary.”
At that, he couldn’t help but smile. The teasing in her tone warmed his heart a great deal more than it should. “Forgive me for misquoting you, my lady.” He angled a glance toward the last known sighting of Blessing in the crowded room. “Have you abandoned your sister after promising Serendipity to watch over her?”
“I was thirsty,” she said, “and my charming brother-in-law only brought lemonade and treats for his wife. He is watching over her.”
“Allow me to help.” Cutting through the throng much easier than her, he shielded her from the crush and escorted her closer to the refreshment table that now appeared somewhat depleted. He got her a glass of lemonade, but the Naples biscuits and other nibbles were gone, and the plates taken away. “Here you are, my lady, but I fear the lemonade will have to hold you until the supper gong.”
“No worries.” She stayed close to his side as they made their way to a less crowded area within full view of Blessing so as not to be accused of lying to Serendipity. “I followed Mama’s advice. I am just fine until supper.”
Intrigued yet again, he had to ask, “I must know. What advice was that?”
She pointed at him, and her stormy blue eyes flashed with the seriousness of the sternest tutor. “Your word that you will tell no one.”
“You have it, my lady. I shall take your secrets to the grave.” The tensed knot of frustration between his shoulders brought on by his cousin’s antics disappeared completely. Fortuity was a balm to his soul.
“Well…” She glanced around, then eased a bit closer to shield their conversation from others. “Mama always had Cook serve us a healthy portion of mashed potato before we went out for the evening to attend such soirées as these. Mama knew the heartiness of the dish would not only shield us from the effects of an overly strong ratafia but also keep us quite hale should supper run late or the treats run short.”
A warmth filled him, not from the crowded room but from thankfulness at having been accepted as a friend to such a close, loving family. “Your mother was very wise.”
Fortuity ducked her head. “Yes. Very wise, indeed,” she agreed quietly. “We all miss her very much.”
Determined to shoo away her sadness, he nodded across the way at Blessing eating her biscuits with amazing speed. “I wonder if your sister forgot that sage advice?”
“I am sure she did not. Have you not been around her at tea or mealtimes recently? The rounder she becomes, the more voracious her appetite. She attacks her food with such gusto that her knife and fork send off sparks and clang like dueling swords.” Fortuity clamped her mouth shut, and her eyes flared wider. “Pray do not tell her I said that!”
He strained to keep from roaring with laughter. “As I said, your secrets are safe with me.”
The dinner gong sounded, causing every guest to turn toward the front of the room and slowly form a somewhat orderly line that jostled a bit as the various members of the peerage shifted to their appropriate places.
“Lining up in pecking order is ridiculous,” Fortuity said as her brother the duke moved closer to the front of the line and offered his arm to a dowager duchess whose name Matthew couldn’t recall. “We are all guests, for heaven’s sake. Are we not?” She reached for her reticule and withdrew her folded bit of parchment and tiny stub of graphite. “I must make a note to avoid this silliness in any of my stories.”
“Shall I assist you in removing your mask before you take your place in line with your partner?” As a viscount, Matthew regretted his place was farther down the way than whomever the daughter of a duke might pair with. In this instance, the age-old ritual disappointed him. He would much rather stand in line with Fortuity.
She looked up from her scribbling and eyed him with a mischievous smile. “Shall we be naughty?”
The sultriness of her tone belied her innocence and caused him an immediate awareness of the increasing tightness in the crotch of his pantaloons. He shifted in place, doing his best to shadow the bulge of his rather uncontrollable reaction to her question. “Naughty, Fortuity? You? Surely not.” While he didn’t wish to be fed to one of her sisters for ungentlemanly conduct, neither could he resist her. “What, pray tell, do you suggest?” He shifted again and loosely clasped his hands in front of the part of his person causing him issues.
“My goodness, you do fear Serendipity and Blessing, don’t you?” Her lighthearted laugh softened the accusation. “It is nothing serious, my lord. A mere shuffling in the supper line to stir the guests properly before they sit down to enjoy their meal. It would be a most useful experiment to observe their reactions, and how the situation is handled with courtesy and decorum.”
“A shuffling in the supper line? You do realize I cannot step in front of a higher-ranking peer?” In other words, he would not. He prayed she understood.
“Oh no, you couldn’t possibly take such a risk as that, and I would never ask you to do so.” But mischief danced in her eyes as she looped her arm through his. “Shall we see what happens when I partner with you, thereby causing an upward shift of rank among the ladies?”
“I should say the ladies would be quite pleased. But one must wonder how the gentlemen will look upon it.”
“Exactly. And that is the usefulness of the experiment. How will they react?”
“Lady Atterley could very well pull you aside and direct you to your correct position,” he warned. “Would that not be embarrassing for one who usually secludes herself in the draperies with her scribbling?”
“Lady Atterley was a dear friend of Mama’s. She will more than likely send Chance or Serendipity after me.” She patted his arm. “But we shall never know unless we try. Are you willing?”
“Are you, my lady?” He did not wish her shredded by the ton ’s sharp tongues. Something about this rare woman made him determined to protect her, even if it meant protecting her from herself. “According to your brother-in-law, the gossips are already whispering about our two waltzes together. If you toss your head at standard decorum and plant yourself at my side, will it not stir them into a frenzy? Have them assume we are something we are not?”
The mischief in her eyes extinguished like a candle’s snuffed flame, and something about her changed, became diminished. She quickly turned aside and gazed at the supper line. “You are quite right, my lord. What was I thinking?” She dipped a quick curtsy his way, then rushed off, moving to her appropriate place in the ridiculous pecking order waiting to be seated in the dining room.
Matthew groaned and damned himself for being a bacon-brained fool. While attempting to save her from public scrutiny and ridicule, he had bruised her feelings himself. While he hoped she cherished their warm friendship as much as he did, did any woman truly want it thrown in her face that their relationship would never be anything more?
But then, did Fortuity want more from him?
Something stirred deep within him, a dangerous wondering, the tiniest flickering of something he might once have called hope. With a roll of his shoulders, he tossed the implausibility aside. No. Fortuity did not want more than friendship. None of the Broadmere sisters portrayed themselves as eager to wed, and he most definitely did not wish to marry.
He kept his gaze locked on her as she waited in line up ahead but still within view, her head held high, occasionally huffing at the crimson feathers on her mask and rubbing her nose. His heart went out to her. Did she not realize she was the only guest still masked? Even with the silly red featheriness of the thing, she was beyond beautiful, a precious jewel. He had never understood how anyone could think her plain.
Tossing his own mask to a nearby table, he settled in his proper place and offered a detached nod to the viperous Lady Serafina Mellincotte, one of the three huntresses who had hounded him all evening.
“We meet again, my lord.” She looked up at him through her dark lashes, then batted them with such fervor, he was tempted to inquire if she had something in her eye. “Are you enjoying your evening?”
“Lady Atterley never fails to host the perfect gathering.” A vague answer was always best when dealing with the more dangerous members of the ton. Lady Serafina might not be the daughter of a duke as Fortuity was, but her viscountess mother had trained her well. Rumor had it that she had already reduced more than one of her fellow debutantes to tears, and several gentlemen feared she would eviscerate them next.
“Are you not going to inquire if I am enjoying my evening?” She quirked a brow, strangely making him think of a pine marten he had once come across in Scotland. Her brown hair and elaborate gown strengthened that impression with its creamy front inset in a dark cocoa satin. The mask dangling from her wrist even bore fur. And the tiny member of the weasel family fit her perfectly. While the animal could be quite pleasing to watch in its natural habitat, one must always remember not to touch it because of its fierce teeth, sharp claws, and appetite for smaller mammals.
“Well?” she repeated, a little more sharply.
“Forgive me, my lady.” He didn’t attempt to sound at all contrite because, frankly, he didn’t care. “Have you enjoyed your evening?”
She moved closer until their shoulders subtly touched while they made their way to the dining room. “Indeed, I have—except for the waltzes.” She tapped on the dance card dangling from her wrist beside her mask. “I saved both spots for you, but you chose another.”
He simply smiled, then shifted his attention elsewhere, refusing to rise to her bait.
“Well?”
Not attempting to stanch a disgusted huff, he turned back to her. “Well what, my lady?”
She jutted her chin higher and narrowed her eyes. “I see.”
He doubted that very much but was not rash enough to say so. Instead, he ambled into the room and, with great relief, broke off to the hostess’s right of the long dining table, feeling sure Lady Serafina would go to the host’s left. While she would inevitably seat herself across from him, at least the bloodthirsty woman would no longer be at his side, or so he had hoped. Unfortunately, since the places of honor had already been taken by higher-ranking peers, the remaining guests could seat themselves wherever they liked. Lady Serafina remained at his side.
The only saving grace was that Fortuity sat on the other side of the table, not close, but not so far down that he couldn’t see her. In fact, he stared at her, willing her to look his way so he might apologize with a smile.
But she didn’t.
A heavy sigh escaped him before he could stop it.
Lady Serafina leaned in entirely too close and whispered, “When can we expect the announcement, my lord?”
He frowned at her while bloody well wishing he had insisted on himself and his cousins ending this evening early. “Announcement?”
She turned her head and gave Fortuity the sort of smile that made one’s blood run cold. “A courting announcement? Engagement? Pending nuptials?” With a coyness he found most revolting, she turned her chilling smile his way. “A Broadmere daughter, no less. Quite the catch. Although I hardly thought you would choose that particular one.”
“Lady Fortuity is a friend whom I hold in the highest regard. A friend only,” he repeated louder than intended, making several at the table look his way with raised eyebrows. He risked a glance at Fortuity and locked eyes with her, willing her to know he meant her no harm or insult.
She gave him a little nod and a smile that made her seem even sadder.
Damn and blast it all. He had hurt her even more.
“Forgive me, Lord Ravenglass,” Lady Serafina said, “but your friend does not appear impressed with your high regard for her.” She cast a disinterested glance up the table, then took a victorious sip of her wine.
The thing of it was, he was trapped, and the cruel Serafina knew it. If he bolted now, it would only fuel the gossips further. He clenched his teeth, knowing there was nothing for it but to sit supper out and speak to Fortuity at another time and preferably another place. After all, thanks to their two dances and Lady Serafina’s actions, all eyes would be on Fortuity and himself for the remainder of the evening.
“Do forgive us. My wife suddenly finds herself feeling unwell,” Knightwood told Lady Atterley in a voice loud enough for all in the room to hear. Before their hostess could comment, he looked Matthew’s way. “Lord Ravenglass, would you be good enough to follow? I need a word. Urgently.”
“Of course, Lord Knightwood.” Matthew abruptly rose, concerned for Blessing as well as thankful for a brief respite from the room. He couldn’t quit the party completely, not without his cousins in tow. But at least he would be free of Lady Serafina’s company for as long as possible.
Every Broadmere sibling rose and curtsied to Lady Atterley, then hurried out behind Blessing, who clutched her husband as if she were so ill that she could barely walk. Matthew followed, praying that both the lady and her unborn child would be all right.
Once they all reached the large entryway and were well out of earshot of the other guests, and the footman had left them to summon the carriages, Blessing emitted a low growl and marched over to Fortuity. She caught hold of her sister’s arm and towed her over to Matthew. “You will apologize for embarrassing my sister. I thought better of you, Matthew. How could you be so cruel?”
“Essie, stop!” Fortuity wrenched her arm free. “He merely told the truth.”
“Fortuity,” Matthew began, then went silent, uncertain what to say. All he knew was that he hated he had put such unhappiness in her eyes. “I…”
She held up a hand. “You do not owe me an apology. The gossips caused this treachery simply because we made the mistake of sharing two dances to escape less-than-desirable partners.”
But neither her tone nor the teary sheen in her eyes matched the sentiment of her words. Unable to resist, he reached over and gently removed her mask. “Damn the gossips and everything else. Forgive me, Fortuity. I should not have chosen my words so poorly and reacted to Lady Serafina’s goading.”
She avoided his gaze by keeping hers lowered. “It is quite all right, my lord. Honestly. There is nothing to forgive.”
“And forgive me for hurting your feelings when I balked at the experiment,” he added softly.
“What experiment?” Fortuity’s brother Chance pushed in closer.
“Nothing sordid.” Fortuity glared at her siblings. “Must you all surround us as if we are a pair of prizefighters about to box?”
“Yes,” Blessing said. “We must. I gave up my meal to provide you an escape from that room. Now, what experiment?”
“A mere shuffling in the supper line,” Matthew said, hoping to draw their irritation to him rather than Fortuity. “We were curious about what might happen if Fortuity took a position beside me rather than farther to the front of the ladies’ line where she belonged. But then we both had second thoughts about what the tongue waggers would say—what with our sharing two waltzes this evening.”
“You mean you had second thoughts,” Serendipity said with a withering glare. “Hence the apology for hurting her feelings. What did you say to her?”
“I was a coward,” he said. “And I told her as such.”
“And now you are lying.” Fortuity rolled her eyes. “He warned me the gossips would stir into a frenzy and consider us courting, which would not be at all accurate, since we are only friends. He did not wish my marriageability harmed or any possible true loves dissuaded because they thought I was no longer available.”
“But it hurt your feelings,” Blessing said to her sister with a look at Matthew that made him feel lower than the soles of his shoes.
“It did not.” Fortuity brushed her fingers across her forehead and looked everywhere but at anyone’s eyes. “I was merely tired and growing hungry. They kept supper quite late.”
Knightwood cleared his throat and tipped a nod at a footman coming their way. “I suggest we resolve this matter at another time and, most definitely, another place.”
“There is nothing to resolve,” Fortuity said, sounding much stronger. “All is well. We merely erred in allowing the gossips to take temporary control of the narrative. We shall not make that mistake again. Shall we, Matthew?”
“No, my lady. We shall not.” But something about her made him feel ill at ease, quite unforgiven and as if he had done something much worse than naming her as his friend. And the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if he had been the worst sort of fool. She was not happy with him, and he hated himself for it.
A trio of maids appeared bearing the ladies’ cloaks. A pair of footmen followed them with Thorne’s and Chance’s greatcoats and toppers. Another footman appeared and bowed to Matthew. “Do you require your things as well, my lord?”
“Yes. Along with my cousins. Have them fetched from the dining room and summon my carriage.” Not even the hounds of hell could drag him back to that table and the poisonous Lady Serafina.
And he had much to think about. His heart ached for Fortuity, and he would be damned if he allowed her suffering and humiliation at the hands of the ton to continue.
You mean her suffering and humiliation at your hands, his conscience argued.
He bowed his head and accepted the damnation. Yes, the suffering, humiliation, and, worst of all, the sadness he had caused her.