Chapter Six
“D o my eyes deceive me?” Grace whispered in Fortuity’s ear. “You are not in the shadows, furiously writing on your scraps of paper?”
“Lord Carronbridge keeps flushing me out. It’s as though I am a plump little pheasant just begging to be shot.” Fortuity forced a smile at the attentive Scot headed their way with yet another glass of lemonade. “Please stay close, Gracie. If I drink much more, I shall surely flood every chamber pot and bourdaloue in the ladies’ retiring room.”
“Then decline when he asks if you wish for more.”
“It is the only way I can be rid of him for longer than a matter of minutes.” Fortuity kept her fake smile fixed on the Scottish viscount as he drew ever nearer. “I have introduced him to every debutante whose name I can recall, yet he follows me like one of your devoted hounds.”
“I thought you liked him?”
“He seems to be a very nice man,” Fortuity hurried to say, then stepped forward and accepted the glass of lemonade from Carronbridge. “Thank you, my lord. You spoil me with such attentiveness.”
“Ye are quite welcome, my lady,” he said with a gallant bow. “And one such as yourself deserves every attentiveness.” He nodded at Grace. “And how are ye this fine evening, Lady Grace?”
“Quite well, thank you.” Grace stretched up on tiptoe and peered around the crowded ballroom. “Is your sister here, Lord Carronbridge? I thought she might like to know that Lucy finally had her puppies. A healthy litter of seven.”
“Seven pups? Well done, indeed.” He turned and joined her in scanning the crowd. “Last I saw her, she was dancing with a gentleman whose name I canna recall, but she seemed happy enough with him. The ladies ye introduced her to have been quite kind. Sarah has always struggled with being overly shy and retiring. I am glad she has been so well received.”
“Lady Sarah is kindness itself,” Fortuity said, wishing the young woman would come and fetch her brother for at least a little while. As she’d told her sister, Carronbridge seemed nice enough, but something about him made her as uneasy as walking through the parlor in her stocking feet before Grace’s hounds went outside for their morning run. Invariably, the gorgeous pattern of the parlor’s Turkish rug always hid a warm, disgusting puddle the pups left behind.
Fortuity wondered what undesirable things the handsome Scottish lord’s charming attentiveness hid. It was nothing he had said or done, but something was there just beneath the surface, and it wasn’t good. She would wager her favorite quill on it. She choked down another sip of lemonade and tried to control her runaway suspicions. Perhaps she was just being silly or maybe just missing Matthew, a man known for his brutal honesty. A melancholy sigh escaped her.
“Miss Eleanor Sykesbury is here,” Grace said, then wrinkled her nose.
Carronbridge chuckled. “I take it ye dinna care for Miss Sykesbury?”
“Miss Sykesbury and her mother are cousins to Lord Ravenglass,” Fortuity hurried to explain before Grace launched into a scathing diatribe about Eleanor’s cutthroat tactics on either finding a husband or preventing others from doing so. “Would you like an introduction?”
The wily Scot waggled a ruddy brow at her, but his rich brown eyes hardened ever so slightly and somehow seemed colder. “Are ye trying to be rid of me, my lady?”
“Never, my lord,” Fortuity lied, then curtsied and handed him her empty glass. “Do forgive me, but I must excuse myself to the retiring room for a moment.”
“I shall anxiously await your return, my lady,” Carronbridge said, then handed off her empty glass to a passing servant.
“He does get up one’s nose a bit,” Grace said as they wove their way through the crowd. “If you do not wish to encourage him, you may have to speak plainly. Or do you wish to encourage him long enough to shake some sense into a rather slow-witted viscount for whom we all know you possess a certain fondness?”
“Gracie, hush!” Fortuity rushed into the ladies’ retiring room and hurried behind the screen in the back corner. Thankfully, the chamber pot and bourdaloue appeared to have just been emptied, cleaned, and returned to the cabinet. Lady Burrastone thought of every comfort for her guests when trying to outdo Lady Atterley in giving the Season’s most enjoyable parties.
Fortuity selected the bourdaloue, since it was much easier to hold up under her skirts rather than attempt to squat over a chamber pot and not wet her chemise or gown.
“I am merely stating what everyone knows,” Grace told her from the other side of the screen. “Or, at least, our family knows. And we appear to be the only two in here at the moment, so calm down and finish with your necessities.”
After making the bourdaloue a great deal heavier, Fortuity carefully set the full vessel on the cabinet. Then stepped out from behind the screen and immediately halted at the sight of one of Lady Burrastone’s maids waiting with a pitcher of water, a bar of soap, and a linen towel.
“For refreshing yourself, my lady?” the young girl offered with a proper curtsy.
“Thank you.” Fortuity glared at her sister for the lie about their being alone. Everyone knew servants were the lifeblood of the ton ’s gossip. They found out everything and reported the information to their mistresses. She washed her hands and dried them, then seated herself in a chair beside the door.
“Are you unwell?” Grace asked as she perched on a chair beside her.
“I simply need to sit a moment and gather my thoughts.” Fortuity aimed a pointed look at the two maids flitting around the room, attending to the ladies who had just entered.
Grace leaned over and bumped shoulders with her. “He is here, by the way. Sulking in your usual corner.”
“I do not have a usual corner,” Fortuity said, staring straight ahead.
“Yes, you do. No matter the party, you always hover in the back corner of the room on the same side as the refreshments table.” Grace bumped shoulders with her again. “Perhaps he is waiting for you.”
“Stop doing that.” Fortuity scooted her chair to the side, increasing the distance between them. “And why would he possibly wait for me? He has made himself quite clear.”
“Are you going to allow him to help you with your stories?”
“I am not.”
“Tutie.”
“Do not use that tone with me. It does no good, and you know it.”
Grace huffed and plucked at the embroidered flowers dotting the skirt of her gown. “May we go back out now? Serendipity charged me with keeping Joy away from the gaming rooms, so I really should at least appear to be putting forth some effort in that regard.”
“You go.” Fortuity pulled in a deep breath and released it with a soul-cleansing sigh. “I need more time. I am not used to being the subject of such ardent attention, and I find it not only annoying but most tiresome.”
“You don’t trust him.” Grace poked her in the shoulder. “What did he do?”
“Keep your hands to yourself, Gracie.” Fortuity rubbed her shoulder even though the poke hadn’t hurt. “And he’s done nothing. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“A feeling.”
Grace rose to her feet, stepped in front of Fortuity, then bent and looked her in the eyes. “Animals survive by their instincts,” she said quietly. “Listen to your feelings when they’re attempting to warn you about something.”
Fortuity tipped her head toward the door. “Go find Joy, or Serendipity and Chance will sputter at you.”
Grace grinned. “I enjoy making them sputter.” She wagged a finger. “Do not stay in here too long. If you don’t wish to return to Scotland , seek the land you know.”
Fortuity nodded, then massaged her temples as Grace exited the room. The beginnings of a headache throbbed behind her eyes, making her wonder if an overindulgence of lemonade caused the same aftereffects as an overindulgence of wine. Not that she would know. Mama had taught them all that a lady must always remain in control, and too many spirited drinks stole one’s control away. She closed her eyes and continued rubbing the sides of her head. If this continued, she would go home early and seek refuge in her bed.
“There you are.”
Biting her tongue to keep from groaning aloud, Fortuity opened her eyes. “Eleanor.” She hoped her disgusted tone would make the chit go away.
Eleanor widened her eyes as though Fortuity had raised a hand to strike her. But then she took hold of Fortuity’s arm and tried to tug her to her feet. “Lady Blessing begged me to fetch you. She is in the garden and not feeling well at all.”
“What on earth is she doing out there in the cold night air? Where is Thorne? Surely he didn’t allow her to go outside alone?” Fortuity rose and hurried along behind Eleanor, cursing the crowded room that made getting to the veranda’s doors even more difficult. But the more she fought the crowd, the more she found the entire situation strange. She pulled Eleanor to a stop. “How did you happen to come across her? Outside in the chilly March air? And alone?” She narrowed her eyes. “Is this another of your tricks, Eleanor? Because I assure you, we all know how you are by now. We are not as dull-witted as you like to believe.”
The usually defiant Eleanor bowed her head. “I deserve that for my past behavior, of which all I can do is continue to apologize and beg forgiveness.” She lifted her dark-eyed gaze to Fortuity’s and appeared on the verge of tears. “I asked Lady Blessing to step outside so I might apologize to her personally for the way I behaved when she and Lord Knightwood were courting.”
“After all this time? Why now?” Fortuity eyed the woman, who was either telling the truth or was a remarkably talented liar. She couldn’t decide which. “Why this evening? You could have just as easily sent her a written apology at any time over the past year.”
“I felt it would be more sincere if I spoke to her directly. Notes can be so cold and impersonal.” Eleanor waved for Fortuity to follow. “And as we stand here arguing, your sister needs you. She sent me to fetch you and her husband both.”
“I would hope you took him to her first and then came to find me?” Fortuity still didn’t believe this wild tale, but a glance around the ballroom revealed that not only was Blessing nowhere to be seen, but neither was Thorne among the crowd, nor any of the other Broadmere siblings. Was Eleanor actually telling the truth for once?
“Of course. He has gone to her as we speak.”
Still doubtful but worried about Blessing, Fortuity waved Eleanor forward and hurried after her. As they charged outside, the bracing chilliness of the clear night made Fortuity catch her breath. “Essie should not be out here. Why could you not have spoken to her in an unused room?”
Eleanor halted and stared out across the moonlit gardens. “I don’t see them. Lord Knightwood must have carried her inside.”
“I sincerely hope so. This coldness could not possibly be good for her.”
“But I promised to bring you to her,” Eleanor said. “I am trying my best to show her I have changed and regret my past behavior.”
Fortuity turned to go back inside. “I will assure her you kept your word to fetch me. Come. All we are accomplishing out here are numb fingers and toes.”
“But I must keep my word. Let us check Lady Burrastone’s library. Perhaps he carried her there so she might rest in the quiet until their carriage is brought ’round.” Eleanor caught her by the wrist and hurried her along. “I am so concerned about her.”
“Should we find Lady Burrastone? I have no idea where her library is.” Fortuity pulled her arm free. “I prefer not to be dragged.”
“Of course, forgive me.” Eleanor didn’t slow her pace. “The library is down this hall and off to the right. Lady Burrastone was kind enough to give Mama and me a tour when we had tea with her recently.”
Fortuity hadn’t realized that the Sykesburys had ingratiated themselves with Lady Burrastone, but it made sense. The dear old woman hungered for those who blindly followed wherever she led. Mama had often said the lady longed to be placed on a pedestal and worshipped as if she were the patron saint of the ton.
“Here it is,” Eleanor said as she opened a door on the right. She stepped back to let Fortuity enter first. “I remember a pair of fainting couches at the far end of the room in front of the hearth. Surely he took her there.”
Entering the shadowy room, Fortuity turned in the direction of the candles glowing on the mantel. “Essie, are you there? Thorne?”
“Fortuity?”
She halted, and every hair on the back of her neck stood on end. “What is this? A trick?”
Matthew stepped out of the shadows with a scowl as dark as the devil’s waistcoat. “You should not be in here alone with me. Leave at once.”
“Do not order me around, Lord Ravenglass. I am not one of your servants.” But she hurried back to the door. She indeed needed to leave before anyone saw her in such a compromising situation. The latch clicked, but the door refused to open. “Matthew,” she said, struggling to force out the words, “your cousin has locked the door. Why would she do that?” Panic rising, she tried again. All it did was rattle and remain shut. Perhaps the mechanism was just a bit tricky, or it stuck in damp weather. She closed her eyes, clenched her teeth, and tried again—and again. The door was indeed locked.
She leaned forward and rested her forehead on the door. “How did she lure you here, or was this your idea?”
“Fortuity.” His injured tone cut through her. “I would never do such a thing to you, and you should know that.”
“All I know,” she said without turning to face him, “is that I am locked in a room, alone, with a man the ton paired me with only weeks ago.” She turned, tempted to throw something at him. This had to be his fault, his and his dratted cousin’s. “I will be ruined. My sisters will be ruined.”
“Only if we are found.” He took a step forward but halted when she jabbed a finger at him.
“Has your unbelievable arrogance done away with any good sense you ever possessed? If Eleanor took the time to lure us both here and lock us in, do you not think, at this very moment, she is gathering every tongue wagger she can find to drag here and reveal our contrived debauchery?”
He jutted his chin higher as he moved closer. “Then we will marry.”
*
“We most certainly will not marry,” Fortuity squeaked in a high-pitched whisper.
The entirety of her person trembled, making Matthew draw closer still so he might catch her if she swooned. Even in the dimly lit room, her pallor was unmistakable. Her disgust for him wrapped cruel, icy fingers around his heart and twisted, nearly ripping it out of his chest. Gads, she hated him more than he’d ever imagined possible.
“If we are found, it is the only way,” he said quietly, hoping the certainty in his tone would calm her. “You know that as well as I. Your reputation would be compromised.”
She pointed a trembling hand at the window. “I will climb out that window. All I need to do is escape this room. Don’t think I won’t do it.”
“Has your hatred for me truly grown that strong?”
She stared at him, blinking rapidly, then swiping at tears that appeared to make her angrier. “I do not hate you,” she said with another shudder. “But I refuse to marry a man who does not want or love me. I am not a duty or a lesson in chivalry.” She went to the window and grunted with the effort of trying to raise the sash.
He couldn’t hold back any longer. He strode forward and pulled her into his arms. “Fortuity—stop.”
“Leave me alone,” she said, growling with her teeth bared. She twisted back to the window and tried in vain to open it. “Why will this dratted thing not give way?”
He caught her by the wrists and yanked her back into his arms. “I said stop , and I meant it. You will be my wife. Either by announcing the bloody banns three Sundays in a row, special license, or Gretna Green. I do not care. But I will not have you and your family ruined by Eleanor. I will deal with that conniving chit later.”
She glared up at him, the hurt in her eyes stinging him worse than a slap in the face. He ached to tell her that everything happened for a reason, that perhaps this was fate’s way of shoving him in the direction he had needed to take all along. But he couldn’t. Something inside held him back, kept him from making himself even more vulnerable to her than he already was. Gads, he was still such a coward when it came to love.
“And to answer your earlier question,” he said, trying to shift his thoughts from his own failings, “Eleanor informed me that your brother wished to speak with me regarding a matter of the utmost importance and asked that I meet him here in the library. That is how I came to be in this room.”
“And that does not anger you?”
“Of course it angers me.”
“Then why are you so bloody calm?” She tried to twist away. “Let me go and help me open this infernal window.”
“The drop from that window would injure you.” He stepped between her and her faulty means of escape. “How would that help your reputation, my little wren? Having the servants find you crumpled in a heap on the carriage road?”
She stared up at him, her chest heaving and becoming quite the distraction. “Break down the door while I hide behind the desk. After an appropriate amount of time has passed, I shall sneak out and rejoin the party.”
He would laugh if her determination to escape him didn’t cut him to the quick. “I daresay that breaking down the door might draw the attention of anyone close enough to hear.”
“Then we both need to hide. Or…or discover if there is a secret passage out of here.” Her eyes lit up, and she tore away from him, running her hands along the walls and shoving on the bookcases. She cast a glance back. “Well, come on. I would think a man who does not wish to marry would be more helpful.”
“What if I said I changed my mind and now wish to marry?”
She shot him a glare that could have incinerated him on the spot. “I would call you a liar.”
“I never lie.”
Her fisted hands trembling, she backed up against the wall. “Can you honestly tell me you intended to ask me to be your wife? That you have recovered from your painful past and are ready to marry?”
“I—” He couldn’t lie. She would know.
“I thought not,” she said as she returned to the window and thumped the facing, determined to unstick the stubborn thing. “Come help me open this bloody window. Now!”
He held out his hand, regretting every time he had ever told her they were nothing more than friends. “Fortuity—come. The evil herd approaches. The clatter of their cloven hooves in the hall is unmistakable.”
She stared at the door and shuddered. “This cannot be happening. Not to me. Matthew, this cannot be happening to us.”
He went to her, took her hand, and gently led her to the center of the room, closer to the door. “I will protect you, my little wren. Always. I swear it.”
Staring up at him with tears in her eyes, she opened her mouth to speak but then snapped it shut again as the latch on the door rattled, then the thing swung open, revealing a smirking Eleanor leading several of the most vicious and gossiping members of the ton.
“Cousin! Lady Fortuity!” The chit adopted a convincing expression of shock, then turned to the back-biting pack surrounding her. She weakly attempted to shoo them away, as if trying to keep them from seeing that which she had already revealed to them. “Why don’t we all return to the ballroom, ladies?”
“Wait,” Matthew ordered her, ensuring his powerful voice echoed well into the hallway. “I have an announcement.”
Eleanor narrowed her eyes, and her victorious smile faded the slightest bit. “An announcement?”
“Yes.” Turning to Fortuity, willing her to trust and forgive him, he pressed a tender kiss to the back of her gloved hand. “Lady Fortuity has honored me with a yes. She has agreed to be my wife.”
“Nothing more than friends?” Lady Serafina Mellincotte snapped with a bitter snarl. “I thought you abhorred lies, my lord?”
“And what of her Scottish admirer?” taunted Lady Theodora Worsten. “This evening, his lordship has served her better than any lackey I have ever seen.”
“I refuse to tolerate such insulting behavior toward my future wife.” Matthew slammed the door in their faces, then turned to find Fortuity had lowered herself into a chair and rocked forward with her face in her hands. “Fortuity?”
“Go away,” she said, her voice trembling.
He went to her and knelt. “I will not leave you here in tears for them to discover and pick the meat off your bones.” With the lightest touch, he rubbed a finger across her gloved hand. “Look at me,” he implored softly.
She shook her head while keeping her face buried in her hands.
“Fortuity.”
“Do not say my name like that,” came her muffled scolding from between her fingers.
“Like what?” Perhaps if he teased her, it might give her the courage she needed to face the prying eyes of the ton.
“Like you have the right to.”
“I do have the right to. You are going to be my wife.”
“Not if I can think of a way out of this.” She dropped her hands to her lap and stared at him with such desperation that his heart clenched. “You made it quite plain that you never wished to marry,” she said, “that we would never be anything more than friends. I will not be party to an agreement where my husband was leg-shackled to me against his will out of some ridiculous sense of honor and duty.”
“You are too overwrought to plot anything at the moment. We will sort this out. Together.” Still kneeling beside her, he eased both her hands into his and gently squeezed. “Come,” he said with a grin. “Let us find your brother and sisters. Eleanor may have locked them in the pantry.”
The library door burst open with such force that it bounced off the wall. In the doorway stood Viscount Simon Carronbridge, red-faced and his chest heaving. “Get away from her, ye filthy cur! Stand and face me, I say!”
Rage like he’d never felt before surged through Matthew, pushing him to his feet. “This is none of your affair, Carronbridge. Calm yourself and leave.”
The Scottish lord tipped a hard nod at Fortuity. “That fine lady is mine, and I find your behavior loathsome. Luring her in here. Attempting to ruin her in my eyes.”
“Lady Fortuity is to be my wife.” Matthew squared off in front of the man, shielding Fortuity.
“Ye lie,” the man said with a rumbling throatiness. “I have courted this lady for the past fortnight. If what ye say is true, where the devil have ye been while another man pursued your woman?” He shifted to one side and glared at Fortuity. “And what sort of woman willingly receives another man’s attention when she belongs to someone else?”
“I did not encourage you, Lord Carronbridge.” Fortuity set her chin to a defiant angle. “I spent time with you and your sister to help you ease into London Society more easily. It was not courting. It was kindness and extending friendship.” She shifted in the chair as if uncomfortable, then pushed herself to her feet. “And I belong to no one because I am neither chattel nor an animal purchased for breeding. I belong to no one but myself.”
He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Ye dinna ken your place, woman. Such an attitude is most unbecoming. While I regret speaking ill of the dead, did your parents not have the sense to raise ye properly?”
“Do not dare to insult my parents, you arrogant churl.” She fisted her hands and started toward him. “They were far better people than you could ever hope to be.”
Matthew caught her and pulled her back, tucking her close to his side. “Leave, Carronbridge, or I shall personally escort you out.”
“I wouldha taught her how to behave, but now that I see she’s nothing but a brazen whore, ye can have her.” Carronbridge spat on the floor. “Good riddance to her, and I pray ye know for certain ye are the father of anything that comes out of her.”
Matthew lunged and landed a solid blow to the Scot’s jaw, knocking the man out into the hallway. Driven by uncontrollable rage, he charged forward, grabbed the rude lord up from the floor, and struck him again. “Insult her again and die!”
“A common lightskirt,” Carronbridge sneered through the blood streaming from his nose.
Clutching the devil by the waistcoat, Matthew drove the man back into the wall and pummeled him. “You are the only thing common here, you bastard.” He hit him again, a red haze of fury roaring through him, deafening and blinding him to all else.
“Ravenglass, stop! You are going to kill him!” Lord Knightwood caught hold of Matthew, attempting to pull him away.
Matthew twisted free, determined to finish the man. “He insulted my Fortuity. He deserves to die!”
“We will see him ousted from London,” the Duke of Broadmere said as he grabbed Matthew’s other arm. “No one hurts any of my sisters and gets away with it.” He and Lord Knightwood forced Matthew back from the Scot, who sank to the floor and went still.
Lady Sarah pushed through the gathered onlookers and hurried to her unconscious brother. “Oh, Simon. Not again.” She turned and looked up at Matthew, Knightwood, and the duke. “I am so sorry. If someone could please place him in our carriage, we shall be gone from here and never return. Please forgive him. He canna help himself.”
Tears streaming down her face, she went to Fortuity, curtsied low, and bowed her head. “Forgive us, Lady Fortuity, I beg ye. He is a good man most of the time. At least, he is until his demons break free. Please find it in your heart to forgive him, and remember us in your prayers.”
“Stay here with us. We will protect you.” Fortuity sent a pleading look to her brother.
Chance nodded. “You are most welcome to shelter at Broadmere House, Lady Sarah, while your brother returns to Scotland.”
The lady gave them both a sad smile, then turned her gaze to her brother. “I canna leave him. He is my twin, and I fear what he might do, what harm he might bring down upon himself, were I to desert him.” She curtsied again. “But I thank ye for the offer.”
“Remove him to his carriage,” Lord Burrastone ordered his footmen. He turned to Matthew and narrowed his eyes. “Do you require a room and the assistance of my valet, my lord?”
“Thank you, but no, Lord Burrastone.” Still struggling to compose himself, Matthew offered the portly gentleman a bow. “However, for the sake of your wife’s delightful party, I feel it best that my cousins and I depart.” He turned to Fortuity’s brother. “Your Grace, I shall call upon you tomorrow. Lady Fortuity has agreed to be my wife.”
“Has she?” Chance eyed Matthew, shifted his gaze to Fortuity, and then offered them both a knowing smile. “Until tomorrow, then, Lord Ravenglass. I look forward to our meeting.”
Matthew moved to Fortuity, took her hand, and kissed it. “All will be well. I promise.”
Her eyes glistened with tears, but she offered him a curt nod. “We will speak more tomorrow, Lord Ravenglass.”
His heart fell. Lord Ravenglass. He bowed, kissed her hand again, then exited the library, striding down the maze of hallways toward the front of the Burrastone home. Eleanor and Agnus were already there, donning their cloaks. Agnus appeared confused. Eleanor looked frightened.
“Cousin,” she started, but he silenced her with a look.
“What have you done now, Eleanor?” her mother whispered.
“Not a word until we get in the carriage,” Matthew said as a footman held the door, and they descended the steps to their vehicle.
“But cousin,” Eleanor began, “I—”
“You will shut your mouth and do as you are told,” he informed her as he held her hand as she climbed inside.
“My lord, please,” Agnus began.
“You will not speak either, Agnus. You and your daughter have abused my hospitality and familial responsibilities for as long as I shall allow.” He settled into the seat opposite them. “But since I am not an entirely heartless bastard, I shall give the two of you a choice. Return to India to live with the departed Mr. Sykesbury’s family and all that entails, or move to the smallest of my properties in the country, never to return to London or any other Ravenglass holding ever again.”
They gasped in unison and stared at him, aghast.
“But it is the Season ,” Eleanor said, her high-pitched whine angering him even more.
“You ended your London Season when you attacked the Broadmeres, a finer family never to be found.” He calmly folded his hands in his lap. “What shall it be, cousins? India or the country?” He focused on Eleanor. “Or perhaps one of each? Eleanor to India to proceed with her arranged marriage and Agnus to the country? I rather like the sound of that.”
Agnus fisted her lacy handkerchief, clutching it to her chest. “Please do not separate us, my lord. I beg you.”
“Then both to India?” He arched a brow, knowing they would choose the small cottage on the edge of the Lake District near the village whose name he couldn’t recall.
Agnus reached over and clutched Eleanor’s hand so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “We shall move to the country and be grateful for your tolerance.”