Chapter Eleven
“I t pains me to see you so very miserable,” Fortuity told Blessing while inwardly cringing at the astonishing size of her sister’s middle. Mama had never gotten this large when expecting. Or, at least, Fortuity didn’t remember her ever becoming so huge. Blessing looked as if she had swallowed half of London. “Is there a possibility there could be more than one in there?”
“How am I to know?” Blessing snapped. “I have neither windows nor magical powers with which to view this demon who threatens to break my ribs whenever he or she is not busily bouncing so hard that I nearly wet myself.” She immediately looked abashed. “Forgive me. I am vileness itself. How on earth did Mama ever do this eight times without either killing Papa or forbidding him to touch her ever again?”
“Perhaps once she held the babe and the miserable part had passed, she forgot about it until it was too late, then found herself stricken with it all over again.” Fortuity stared, awestruck as her sister’s stomach shifted, then rolled as though something within her was testing for weak spots to burst through and escape. “What does that feel like?”
“When the imp hooks its foot under one side of my ribcage and grabs hold of the other side and stretches, it hurts like the bloody devil. But it can be quite magical when the beastie calms to a gentle, rolling swim.” Blessing nodded at her. “You will know soon enough.”
“Whatever do you mean by that?” Fortuity sat straighter and tugged some of her curls closer around her neck, wondering if Matthew had left some telltale marks along her throat while nuzzling her awake for a delightful morning romp.
Blessing leaned forward as much as her swollen middle allowed. “You are no longer a virgin. Admit it.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Liar.”
Fortuity huffed. She had never been able to hide anything from her sisters, especially not Blessing. “How did you know?”
“Easily enough, dear sister. You seem genuinely happy and content for a change.” Blessing shifted on the fainting couch, struggling to rearrange the pillows to support her better.
Fortuity jumped to help her, tucking smaller cushions behind her back and larger ones behind her shoulders and under her feet. “Shall I ring for tea? Are you hungry?”
“I am perpetually hungry, but every time I eat, my stomach feels as though I have swallowed live coals, and then I belch like a drunkard at the pub.”
Fortuity eyed her, trying not to laugh. “Observed many drunkards at pubs, have we?”
“Oh, just shut your gob, Fortuity, do.” Blessing retrieved the handbell that had disappeared among the cushions and rang it as if winding up to throw it. As soon as the butler appeared, she sadly shook her head and unleashed a long-suffering sigh. “Tea again, please, Cadwick, and do not forget extra milk and sugar. And an abundance of cakes and biscuits, of course—along with kippers. The extra-salty ones from the oiliest batch. I have a terrible need for them, it seems.”
“Right away, my lady,” he said before disappearing to fetch it.
“Extra-salty, oily kippers?” Fortuity shuddered at the thought of eating them with sweet cakes and biscuits. “That poor man must be terrified of you. He didn’t even flinch.” The butler had to be at his wits’ end between the herds of cats that he despised and his mistress’s odd requests.
“I am sure poor Cadwick feels as if he has descended into the deepest level of hell.” Blessing rubbed the mound of her stomach as though it were a magic lamp, and she was summoning Aladdin’s genie from Antoine Galland’s Les Mille et Une Nuit— or, as Fortuity had enjoyed the English translation, One Thousand and One Nights . “Now tell me, when do you intend to inform Chance and Mr. Sutherland the elder that you are happily married, so Gracie can take her place on the chopping block next? Serendipity tells me that Chance is positively unbearable since Mr. Sutherland informed him that your marriage did not satisfy the condition of the will.”
“Did Mr. Sutherland ever say what would happen if one of us did not achieve the marital bliss that Mama and Papa wished?”
Blessing shrugged. “It is my understanding that Chance’s allowance increases with each happily married sister, but he will not get the entirety of the coffers of his longed-for dukedom until all seven of us achieve such bliss.” She gave a wicked smirk. “For my amusement, don’t tell Chance about the change in your level of happiness. Let him simmer a while longer. He deserves to suffer after comparing me to the size of a hot air balloon.”
Fortuity gasped. “He didn’t!”
“He did.”
“Then I shan’t tell him for at least another week.”
Blessing clapped her hands and chortled happily. “I do love sisterly plotting.”
Cadwick reappeared with the tea and accouterments, served them both, then hurried back out again.
“I don’t believe I have ever seen that man move so quickly,” Fortuity said.
Blessing balanced a platter overflowing with biscuits, cakes, and kippers on the shelf of her stomach. “I am rather enjoying that part of his behavior. By the way, Thorne tells me the Duchess of Esterton has slithered her viperous self back into London and been welcomed with open arms. How are you coping with that?”
“Matthew and I are presenting a united front that, according to the latest on dit , she finds most infuriating. Especially since he ignored not only the first letter she sent him upon her return to London, but the second and third letters as well.”
“Has the woman no pride?” Blessing asked around a mouthful of cake.
“None whatsoever.” Fortuity sipped her tea and settled more comfortably in her chair. “In her last letter, she offered to become his mistress. Even went so far as to say that she didn’t mind sharing him as long as he kept her in the style to which she was accustomed when her husband lived.”
“Apparently, her husband’s dying before she could give him an heir has proven to be most detrimental to her purse.” Blessing exuded a state of sheer bliss as she shoved an entire kipper dripping with oil into her mouth. With a finger in the air to bid Fortuity to wait while she finished chewing, she took a sip of tea to speed up the process. “Thorne reports that her dearly departed husband’s nephew is the new duke and has never been impressed with her or her spending habits. It appears she is quite comfortable requesting advancements on her future allowances because she blows through her coin so readily.”
“Well, she is not my problem.” Although, if Fortuity was brutally honest with both herself and her sister, the Duchess of Esterton’s return to London had set her nerves on edge. Even though Matthew had been quite open about the letters and only given the dowager the most basic level of civility whenever their paths had crossed, she still wished his former infatuation had remained on the Continent and never returned. “But I do have another.”
Blessing frowned. “Another problem?”
“Eleanor is returning for a visit.” Fortuity wrinkled her nose, not caring in the least that it might be petty for her to do so. “Agnus married the local vicar.”
“Agnus Sykesbury? Agnus Sykesbury, who wore nothing but black for three solid years after her husband died?” Blessing held her forehead as if the prospect of Matthew’s cousin’s marrying again had sent her mind reeling. “Remind me how long it has been since they were packed off to the country?”
“Less than two months.” Fortuity threw up her hands. “I know. I thought it another of Eleanor’s lies until we received a separate letter from Agnus bearing her new name.”
“Well then, it must be true, because Agnus was always the light to Eleanor’s dark.” Blessing set her plate aside, scowled down at her loose day gown, then started brushing crumbs off the enormous mound of her stomach. “When is the evil one due to arrive?”
“Today.”
Blessing looked up and ratcheted both her brows higher. “Do you wish to stay here for a while? You could tell Matthew you are keeping me company because confinement is already causing me to teeter on the brink of madness.”
“Is it?” Concern filled Fortuity.
“No… Well, perhaps somewhat. But everyone’s visits help immensely. However, we can use the excuse to your advantage, if need be.”
“I cannot in good conscience saddle Matthew with that little chit.”
“He can go to the club, and the two of you can meet for heated trysts until evil Eleanor returns to the country.”
“I must say, pending motherhood has caused you to become extremely creative.” Fortuity rather liked the idea of heated trysts with her husband and felt certain he would too. But sleeping without him by her side would not be pleasant at all, not since she’d become so besotted with the lovely feeling of waking up in his arms.
“And why exactly does Eleanor feel she must return to where she is not wanted simply because her mother married?” Blessing sipped her tea, then frowned down at it. “Would you mind freshening this for me with a bit more milk and sugar?”
Fortuity rose, took her sister’s cup to the table, and added copious amounts of milk and sugar. Good heavens, the concoction was already the consistency of syrup, but far be it from her to point that out to Blessing. As she placed the cup and saucer back in her sister’s hands, she said, “Eleanor—in her current persona of thinking of everyone but herself—stated that it was only proper she give her mother and the vicar the privacy a newly married couple need.”
“You and Ravenglass haven’t been married all that long either, at least, not in every sense of the word.” Blessing sipped her tea and smiled. “Perfect. Thank you ever so much.”
“You are quite welcome, and you are also correct, but not everyone is aware that my stipulation in the marriage contract was recently declared null, and that I am now sharing my husband’s bedchamber.”
“So what will you do? Poison her?” Blessing peered at Fortuity over the rim of her cup.
“Blessing!”
“Do not deny you hadn’t already considered it.”
“I do not wish her dead. I simply wish her gone. Forever.”
Blessing grinned. “Sounds like dead to me.”
“I do not remember you ever being so cutthroat.” Fortuity freshened her own tea, wrinkling her nose at the noxious odor rising from the oily kippers. The longer they sat on the table, the fishier they smelled. It was a wonder gulls weren’t pecking at the windows to get to them. “Have you always been so murderous?”
Blessing shrugged, then patted her stomach. “The larger I become, the worse I seem to get, but Dr. Tattersol assured Thorne that it was quite normal. Although I have noticed that the irritating physician makes it a point to never turn his back on me.”
“I do not blame him.” Fortuity returned to her chair. “But to answer your rather interesting question, I have no idea how I shall handle Eleanor. My behavior shall depend upon hers.” Her insides were already twisted in knots over the Duchess of Esterton’s return. She did not need the additional worry of Eleanor, especially not when she and Matthew were trying to settle into their roles as a married couple in every sense of the word.
“Do not trust her under any circumstances,” Blessing advised.
“That goes without saying, dear sister.”
*
“If we married her off, she would no longer be our problem,” Fortuity suggested as they descended the stairs after being informed that Eleanor had arrived and awaited them in the parlor. “Might I suggest Lord Smellington ?”
Ignatius thundered past them with the four cats in hot pursuit.
Matthew shielded Fortuity between himself and the wall until the animals were well past them and did not appear to be returning. Everyone in the household had learned to traverse any staircase with the greatest of care. With any luck, either the pug or one of the cats would trip Eleanor and cause her to break her neck. If they did, Matthew would see to it that they received the very best of treats for the remainder of their lives. Although he did have Eleanor to thank for forcing him to take Fortuity as his wife. There was that, and he supposed her unintentional assistance should count for something and grant her a little grace.
“Matthew, what do you think? I feel sure the Marquess of Debt would most readily accept her.”
“I prefer she marry someone who can support her, my dear. Not someone whom I shall have to support.”
“I suppose there is that.” Fortuity shifted against him with a heavy sigh.
“I know you do not trust her. We shall be alert and confirm everything she tells either of us.” He halted at the bottom of the stairs and pulled her into his arms. “You are my everything, Fortuity. Know that and never forget it, no matter what comes to pass.”
“That sounds rather ominous.” A worried pout plumped her tempting lips as she lovingly touched his cheek. “I do not wish for us to move backward rather than forward. While we are much better than we were, I still worry—”
“Stop worrying.” He treated her to a long, slow kiss that made him wish they were still upstairs, Eleanor be damned. But he supposed duty called, and the longer they left his cousin down there alone, the less they knew about any plots she might be planning. He grudgingly ended the kiss and pressed his forehead to Fortuity’s. “I love you, Fortuity. Always. Please know that with every bit of your heart.”
“I am trying.” She framed his face with her hands and gave him a faint smile. “I have loved you much longer than you have loved me—remember?”
“Not true. I simply failed to realize I loved you because I was a clot-headed fool.” He wished they had more time for him to reassure her, and reassure her he would. All the rest of his days, if need be. But for now, he turned and laced her arm through his. “Come, my precious wren, we must go to war now and face the enemy.”
“Indeed.”
As they entered the parlor, Eleanor rose with a strained smile pasted across her noticeably flushed face. “Cousins, thank you ever so much for allowing me back into your home.”
“Temporarily.” Matthew wasn’t about to let down his guard nor allow Eleanor to believe she could put down roots and torment them for any longer than the month he and Fortuity had granted her.
The chit batted her lashes as if her eyes were suddenly stricken with dust motes. “Of course, my lord. I would never suggest otherwise.” She offered Fortuity a hesitant smile and curtsied. “Marriage suits you, my lady. I have never seen you looking so beautiful.”
Fortuity accepted the obvious flummery with a curt dip of her chin and a cold “Thank you.”
Eleanor’s smile faltered. “You would not believe it is Mother, were you to see her now.” She shifted her focus back to Matthew. “Marrying the vicar has turned her into a laughing, carefree lady once again.”
“I daresay if she is a proper vicar’s wife, she will not be carefree for very long.” He led Fortuity to the settee and seated himself beside her. “She will often be called upon to assist him in serving his flock.”
“I suppose.” Eleanor nervously resettled herself in her chair.
“Why are you really here, Eleanor?” Fortuity asked.
Proud of his wife for firing a warning shot, Matthew nodded. “Yes, cousin, tell us. The truth, if you please?”
The dark-haired troublemaker sat there with her mouth ajar, eyeing them both. “I told you in my letter. Mother’s happiness is of the utmost importance to me, and time alone with her new husband would surely help them build a more solid foundation.”
“Did they send you away as Matthew did after your performance at Lady Burrastone’s ball?” Fortuity jutted her chin higher, clearly itching to do battle.
Eleanor stiffened and jerked her attention from Fortuity back to him. “Are you not keeping your wife happy, my lord? I have never known her to be so harsh.”
“Answer her,” he replied. “What you deem as harshness is merely the forthrightness taught to her by your prior behavior.” He reached over and took Fortuity’s hand in his own. “In fact, you taught it to us both. Did they send you away, Eleanor? What devil’s work did you stir in the country?”
His cousin lowered her gaze. “As I am sure you have already surmised, they thought it was high time I returned to London to find a husband.”
“Your mother would not usually send you away,” Matthew said, sensing there was more to be told. “The woman constantly made excuses for you. What changed?”
“Mrs. Palmeroy from the parish did not take a liking to me,” Eleanor said, her familiar waspishness emerging. “She turned the rest of the gentry against me and even complained to the vicar.”
“Your mother wrote that a month’s visit to London would be most appreciated and should be adequate. Is she hoping for the parish to calm by then, or is there perhaps a Mr. Palmeroy who might be out of harm’s way by the time you return?”
When she failed to answer, he knew he’d hit upon the truth. Knowing it would cost him to fund her dowry, taking away coin that rightfully belonged to his future children, Matthew gritted his teeth. Damn the selfish girl. He should’ve left her to her fate in India.
“Thebson!” he bellowed, flinching when Fortuity jumped. “Forgive me, darling. I did not mean to startle you.”
The butler rushed into the room with alarm. “Yes, my lord?”
“Show Miss Sykesbury to her room. Immediately.”
The man visibly relaxed, then nodded at Eleanor. “This way, miss.”
Fisting her hands until her knuckles turned white, Eleanor glared at Matthew, then jumped up and followed Thebson out of the room.
“She will never change,” Fortuity remarked, as though bemoaning terrible weather. “What poor man do you dislike enough to leg-shackle her to, since she is neither an heiress nor in possession of a pleasing demeanor? I wouldn’t even wish her on Chance, and my brother often infuriates me.” She flinched as though struck with even more unpleasantness that his wicked cousin had caused. “And I suppose we shall have to supply her dowry?”
“I am afraid so. What little her father provided for her was spent after his death, when she and her mother were extricating themselves from his family in India and the arranged marriage with some unfortunate gentleman she decided she did not like.”
“And you felt compelled to rescue them?”
“Agnus has always been a dear cousin to me, and the only family I had. Unfortunately, when I rescued them, I did not realize what a spoiled, selfish little chit Eleanor had become.” He caught Fortuity’s hand and kissed it. “Thank the Almighty I now have you, and with His blessing, we shall have our own family someday.”
“You might not think it a blessing if I become like my sister when I get in the family way.”
“Oh?”
Fortuity shook her head. “A topic for another day.” She nodded at the doorway. “Eleanor is a danger to us, Matthew. A danger to the fragile peace and contentment it took us so long to find. No matter how careful we are, no matter what we do or say, she is a risk we can ill afford. I do not want us ruined by her, nor do I wish the Ravenglass name sullied by her any more than it already has been. Gossip about our sudden nuptials was just fading when the Duchess of Esterton returned to make everyone watch and see how you reacted. And now Eleanor is back.” A snorting growl escaped her as she jumped to her feet and took to pacing while wringing her hands. She meandered around the side tables, chairs, and settees scattered throughout the large parlor. “What about the Earl of Alcester? At one time, he was sniffing around my sisters looking for a wife. Is he still an eligible bachelor?”
Matthew shook his head. “Married soon after Thorne and your sister, and already has a potential heir on the way.”
“Farnsworth, then? Or Cedarswik? I remember them showing up to court Blessing when they heard the rumor that her dowry was greater than the rest of ours.”
“I daresay that neither of those gentlemen would be interested in the dowry I am willing to supply for Eleanor.”
Fortuity threw up her hands. “I do not wish us to be saddled with her for the entire month. And if we cannot attach her to some unsuspecting soul, what then? Do we send her back to the countryside to stir more unrest that you will eventually have to deal with whenever we leave London for the summer and retire to the manor house?” Her pacing increased to a frenzied swirling around the room. “I have the stress of stories to finish, a completed story in the hands of a publisher, and your former lady love glaring me down at every tea, ball, and dinner party we attend.” She halted and faced him. “The additional irritation of Eleanor is most inconvenient, and I resent Agnus’s assumption that her wayward daughter is our problem to resolve.”
He went to her, wishing he had a solution for the whole bloody mess. “We could hear from the publisher any day now. They said they wished to review the entirety of the work before they made us an offer.”
“Or they might not,” she snapped. “What about the other publisher? Would they still be interested?”
“We chose the better of the two. Patience, Fortuity. I warned that nothing in the world of books ever happens quickly. Remember?” He poured them both a glass of Fortuity’s favorite brandy, knowing that tea would never do for the seemingly insurmountable issues at hand. “Here. To calm you.”
She took the glass and narrowed her eyes at him. “I was calm until I laid eyes on Eleanor. Calm is no longer a state I feel inclined to assume.”
“If not for her, we might not have married,” he reminded her. As soon as the words left his lips, he wished he hadn’t said them. Fortuity looked ready to throw her drink in his face. He could be such a damned fool at times. They would have eventually married as soon as he had stopped behaving like an idiot and admitted to himself that he loved her. “What I meant to say was—”
“You said exactly what you meant to say,” she snapped. “Quite clearly.” She downed her drink in one gulp, clutched her chest, and wheezed against the heat searing her gullet.
He set aside his drink, took hold of her shoulders, and forced her to look at him. “We would have married, Fortuity. It would have simply taken longer because of my unwillingness to admit that I loved you. I was a cowardly, stubborn fool. Without Eleanor’s trap that forced me to open my eyes, who knows how long it would have taken me to embrace the truth rather than run from it?”
“You see what she does?” Fortuity pulled free and stepped back from him. “Not even here a full hour, and we are already at odds with one another.”
“My lord,” Thebson said hesitantly, revealing he had overheard their turmoil. He lifted a silver salver higher. It held more than one missive. “A messenger awaits a response to the uppermost envelope. Shall I ask him to leave so that you might reply to it at your leisure?”
“No,” Fortuity informed the butler as she hurried over and snatched up both pieces of mail. “Have them wait. Lord Ravenglass shall respond to whomever it is once he has read the message. He will ring for you when ready.”
Thebson shifted a leery look to Matthew and arched a scraggly brow.
“Carry on, Thebson.” God help the man if Fortuity noticed the butler’s hesitation to obey her. As the servant nodded and disappeared into the hallway, Matthew risked moving closer to his displeased wife, hoping to achieve a tenuous harmony at best. “Who awaits our response, my little wren?”
She glanced up at him, her eyes bright and dancing. “The publisher, Matthew. It is the publisher who awaits our response.”
“Open it, my love. Hurry!”
Her hands trembled as she carefully unsealed the envelope and removed the letter. As her eyes went wide and her lips parted, Matthew itched to snatch it from her and read it for himself.
“For heaven’s sake, what does it say?”
“Seven hundred pounds,” she whispered as she looked up from the paper. “They are offering seven hundred pounds for the one novel. That is only a hundred less than Cadell & Davies paid Ann Radcliffe for The Italian , making her the highest-paid novelist in the 1790s.” She bounced in place, shaking the letter at him. “And that was not even her first novel. This is my first, and they are offering us seven hundred pounds!”
“Wonderful news!” Joyous laughter exploded from him as he caught her up and spun in place, hugging her tightly as they whirled. “I knew they would love it and make a generous offer. I knew it!”
She clung to him, her laughter flowing over him and thrilling him even more. “It is not the money that thrills me. It’s my name on the title page— written by Lady Fortuity Abarough Ravenglass . I have waited so very long for this dream to come true.”
His heart lurched, and he went still, gently lowering her feet to the floor. “You changed your name on the title page to include Ravenglass?”
She shyly twitched a shrug. “I am your wife. Am I not?” Then a shadow of uncertainty fell across her. “Did you not wish me to use your name? Would you rather no one knew it was your wife writing such romances?”
He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. “I am honored you changed the title page to include our family name, and never would I ever be ashamed of you.” It troubled him, the speed with which her doubts about him had returned. He had prayed they were past that. Apparently, those prayers had yet to be answered. “I adore you, Fortuity. What will it take to convince you my love for you is genuine? That I do not regret our marriage?”
She eyed him with a seriousness he found most unnerving. “Time, I suppose.” She glanced down at the unopened letter she still held, then wilted in front of his very eyes as she handed it to him. “From the Duchess of Esterton. Letter number four.”
He took it from her, ripped it in half, and tossed it into the hearth, before taking her by the hand and leading her to the small writing desk in the parlor’s corner. “Shall we accept their offer of seven hundred pounds, or do you wish to negotiate for more?”
“Negotiate for more?” she squeaked. “We wouldn’t dare. That would be…ungrateful.”
“The decision is yours, my love, but make haste. Their messenger is waiting for your reply.” He tapped on the writing desk before going to the bellpull and giving it a hard yank.
Thebson immediately appeared in the doorway.
“Champagne, my good man. By the time you return with it, we shall have a response for the waiting messenger.”
The butler nodded. “Right away, my lord.”
“Champagne, Matthew?” Fortuity paused with her quill in midair.
“Absolutely, my love.” He moved behind her and hugged her back against his chest, keeping his arms tight around her waist as he peered over her shoulder. “It is the glorious first of many celebrations of your novels, I am sure.” He nibbled at the soft skin beneath her ear and whispered, “After you finish your response for the messenger, shall we take the champagne upstairs to our bedroom?”
“In the middle of the afternoon? During receiving hours?”
“Hang the time,” he murmured while continuing a trail of kisses along her neck, then pushed her gown aside to kiss the curve of her shoulder. “I want to celebrate my wife’s accomplishment with champagne and more research into what techniques make her moan the loudest and keep her the most breathless.” He peered over her shoulder and down at the paper in front of her. “You have yet to write anything, my love. Think of that poor messenger waiting on the steps.”
She cleared her throat as she bent forward, dipped her quill into the ink, then started scratching out her reply.
Being ever so careful, so as not to cause her a writing mishap, Matthew slid his hands down to her hips and held her in place as he pressed into the softness of her delectable rump. “Do you feel how ardently I wish to celebrate with you?”
She cleared her throat again and swayed back, wiggling her bum against him. “Indeed, my lord. ”
“The only thing preventing me from taking you here and now, my tempting vixen, is that you have yet to finish your task.” Still pressed up behind her, he cupped one of her breasts and gently squeezed. “Well, that and the champagne should be here soon.”
“ My lord ,” she teased in a husky tone that excited him even more, “you are making it most difficult to concentrate and phrase my response properly.”
Matthew stepped back just as the butler reached the door, pushing a cart with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “Do forgive me, Thebson, but might you be able to take that upstairs? My wife and I have decided to retire to our private sitting room to celebrate. If anyone calls, do be good enough to inform them we are not receiving today.”
Without so much as blinking in surprise, the servant nodded. “As you wish, my lord.”
“Oh, and Thebson…” Fortuity darted across the room and handed the man a note. “Please give this to the awaiting messenger.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Once the man had disappeared to accomplish his tasks, Matthew swept Fortuity up into his arms and headed toward the stairs. “Come, my lovely wife—we have celebrations and affirmations to attend to.”
“Affirmations?”
“Yes, my darling. This afternoon, I intend to love away every doubt about us you have ever entertained.”