Chapter Five
“F irst, he couldn’t possibly immerse himself in my story, and then he dared to proclaim he was an expert and bemoan supposed inaccuracies after reading the first two chapters.” Fortuity blew into the private sitting room shared by the remaining six sisters living at home, still unable to believe how the day had progressed. Why had she ever agreed to show Matthew her writing?
Maids emerged from the bedchambers on either side of the small parlor, hurrying forward to help with cloaks and things that had once again become damp with the dreary weather.
“Did he ever really say what he felt was inaccurate?” Grace asked as she tugged off her gloves and handed them to one of the maids. “Sorry about the dog hair, Nellie,” she said. “They had the most delightful pug named Ignatius. You would love him.”
Nellie smiled and gave an amused shake of her head as she gathered Grace’s things.
“Well?” Grace said to Fortuity. “You never gave details. Are you being vague, or was he?”
“He complained about the hero’s behavior and the lack of a kiss in the first few pages. They are just getting to know one another. How could he think my heroine was such a lightskirt?” Fortuity yanked off her gloves with her teeth, biting the fingertips as though she were one of her sister’s hounds. They never should have gone today. She never should’ve shared her stories.
“May I be helping you, Lady Fortuity?” asked Anne, the second of the four maids assigned to help the six sisters with personal duties. The girl cringed, eyeing the delicate gloves as though she feared them about to be chewed to bits.
“Never mind me, Anne. I have had a most frustrating afternoon.” Fortuity handed over her cloak, then perched on a low cushioned footstool to untie her boots. “I fear I plowed through several puddles. A pair of dry stockings would be most appreciated.”
“Right away, my lady.” Anne scooped everything up and went to the bedchamber on the right. She paused in the doorway and looked back. “Will you be wishing to change in here, my lady, or the dressing room? Shall I draw you a nice, warm bath to help you recover from your afternoon?”
“Just some dry clothes for now, and I can change in here, since the fire is already nice and toasty.”
The maid nodded and disappeared to gather the necessary items.
“I think he simply wants to see you again,” Grace said as she backed up to the hearth and lifted her skirts, basking in the heat. “Seemed to me he was teasing you to get you to growl.” She wrinkled her nose. “Thorne does that with Essie too, I’ve noticed. What is it about men? It’s as if they wish to poke a bear with a sharp stick in a rousing game of survival.”
“Attacking my stories will most definitely make me growl.” Fortuity joined her at the hearth. “Shove over. I’m cold too.”
“How did it go?” Serendipity asked as she entered the room. After a few steps in, she halted and arched a brow. “Oh dear. Fortuity, you’ve a face like thunder. What happened?”
“He suggested my scenes were inaccurate.”
“I see.”
“What do you mean by I see ?” Fortuity was in no mood for Serendipity to side with the enemy.
“I mean that I feared this might happen. Any time one asks someone for an opinion or recommendation about something, there is always a risk they might say something one won’t appreciate.” She tucked a snowy blonde curl behind her ear and idly paced back and forth in front of them. “What exactly did he say?”
“That my hero was a churl, and my heroine a lightskirt.”
Serendipity stopped pacing and frowned at her. “What sort of stories are you writing?”
“Tales of romance where my characters are imperfect and must learn to love one another.” Fortuity stepped away from the hearth, lifted her nose, and sniffed. “Gracie, you might wish to check your chemise. I smell a crispiness in the air that might not bode well.”
“Drat!” Grace moved away from the fire while trying to turn and check the condition of her hemline.
“Grace Elena Daisy Abarough!” Serendipity scolded. “What would Mama say about such language?”
“Mama used that word on more than one occasion,” Grace said as she headed for the bedroom on the left. “I am going to get Nellie to see if I’ve ruined this one too, and then I’m having a good cuddle with my hounds. I hereby pass off chaperone duties to you, Seri. May God have mercy on your soul.”
“I do not need to be chaperoned in my own home,” Fortuity shouted after her before turning to Serendipity. “And she played with the dog the entire time she was there, so do not believe her act of being so sorely put upon.”
“When did Ravenglass get a dog?” Serendipity asked. “I don’t recall one there last year when we took Blessing to see him.”
“Ignatius the pug is a newer member of the household. Procured to help Mrs. Sykesbury with her grief.”
Serendipity gave Fortuity a syrupy smile that almost made her gag. “How precious. Lord Ravenglass is such a caring man.”
“Matthew Ravenglass is a selfish, pompous arse.”
Serendipity’s eyes flared open wide. “Fortuity Marion Ivy Abarough! What has gotten into you and Gracie today? Perhaps an afternoon with that gentleman was ill-advised. The two of you are using language from the gutter.”
“It thrills me to no end that you remember our full Christian names, sister.” Fortuity rolled her eyes at the scolding. She much preferred railing about the imperious Lord Ravenglass than jousting with Serendipity. “We had been there over an hour, and he hadn’t even gotten through the first few pages of the story. First, he blamed the dog for making too much noise, and then he blamed me for distracting him.”
“Did he now?” Her sister’s tone suggested that once again Fortuity had overshared. “And how did he say you distracted him?”
“He didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Didn’t say.”
Serendipity frowned. “I may be confused. Did he say you distracted him or not?”
“First, he blamed the dog, then me, and then Eleanor—and from what I observed of her behavior at the ball, I believe she was the actual distraction. He said we should warn Chance that he is her goal.”
Serendipity huffed. “Many in the Marriage Mart are after Chance, but he is far from ready to be caught .” She slowly shook her head, as though confused. “If he was so distracted that he only made it through the first few pages of your story, how did he conclude that there were inaccuracies in the first two chapters in need of repair?”
“I foolishly gave him another hour to redeem himself for only reading the first pages. In that last hour of our visit, he completed the first two chapters.”
“And then gave his recommendations.”
“Which I intend to ignore.”
“Tutie,” Serendipity said, “publishers often change manuscripts. Remember how they did Papa’s journal when they published his novel about his travels? The changes are to make the books more pleasing to the general public, and therefore, more saleable and successful. Lord Ravenglass is considered an expert in the publishing industry. Perhaps all he was trying to do was save you from experiencing that with a publisher. If you submit a perfect manuscript to them, they shall have nothing to pick apart.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Always your side, sister. Always.” Serendipity wrapped an arm around her and gave her a gentle shake. “Never doubt that. If you never wish to see the man ever again, then do not do so. We shall find you another.” She pulled a note out from behind the neckline of her gown and held it out. “I came up not only to hear about your day but also to bring you this. It arrived while you were gone.”
“Must you carry my mail tucked against your bosoms?” Fortuity plucked the stationery away from her sister.
“I didn’t wish the younger ones to see that you are the only one of us to receive an invitation to dinner at Thorne and Blessing’s.” Serendipity grinned. “Even I was not invited.”
“I smell a poorly hidden snare.” Fortuity tapped on the broken seal. “And why was this opened if it was addressed to me?”
“Forgive me. I saw it was from Blessing and assumed it was to all of us. I was wrong.”
While Serendipity did sound contrite, Fortuity still wondered what sort of plot was afoot. Just because Blessing’s lying-in would soon start in no way meant she would remove herself from the matchmaking game. She herself had admitted that she enjoyed it almost as much as studying her stars. “What is she up to?”
“Up to?”
“Do not play innocent, Seri. It does not suit you.”
“It is dinner with her and Thorne. Saturday next. How could that possibly be sinister? You wouldn’t even require a chaperone to enjoy a private meal at your sister’s home.” Serendipity brightened even more and tapped on the note. “Why don’t you take her one or two of your stories? Her days of being able to leave the house are numbered, you know, and the observatory Thorne is having built for her is far from finished.”
Fortuity almost felt sorry for Blessing’s husband, doing his best to keep his expectant wife happy. “I hope he realizes that nothing he builds will ever compare with her observatory from Papa.”
“I am sure he realizes that, but I also feel certain Essie will make sure he knows his efforts are appreciated. She knows he dotes on her.” Serendipity nodded at the invitation. “So you will go, then? Surely you would never wish to disappoint Essie.”
“I will go.” Fortuity dropped to the settee and rested her head in her hands. The tensions of the day had wearied her beyond comprehension. “Matthew plainly said he could give me nothing more than friendship and help to publish my stories,” she said without looking up. She couldn’t bear to see the pity she knew would be in her sister’s eyes.
“I see.” Serendipity settled down beside her. “And will you be all right with that?”
A sad laugh snorted free of Fortuity. “What choice do I have?”
Her sister folded her hands in her lap and waggled her head back and forth. “You could pursue him and attempt to change his mind.”
“If the man has his mind set, I refuse to demean myself and beg for his affections,” Fortuity said. She might be the plainest of the Broadmere sisters and a confirmed wallflower, but she had her pride. “Besides, once I am established with a publisher, I will need to write more stories for them to print.” She swallowed hard against the knot of emotions choking her. Heaven help her, she sounded pathetic even to herself.
“Tutie…” Serendipity’s tone dripped with pity, making every nerve Fortuity possessed bristle.
“Do not do that.” She rose and returned to the fire to warm her hands. “If that is all, I would like to enjoy some time alone, Seri. I found today very tiring. I am sure you have somewhere else to be or something else to do.”
“It is not true, you know?” her sister said while remaining firmly ensconced on the settee.
Fortuity stared down at the yellow flames dancing throughout the coals. “If I inquire what is not true , will you go away?” Shuffling behind her gave her hope that Serendipity was heading for the door. When the hinges squeaked, she allowed herself a relieved sigh.
“You are not the plainest of us,” her sister said from the doorway. “You are simply different, as you should be. Mama and Papa always told you that. I heard them many times.”
“ Different is a questionable compliment in the best of times, and the kindest insult in the worst, dear sister.” Fortuity shifted and managed a wry smile for Serendipity’s benefit. “I will be fine, Seri. Go along now and grant me some time to myself.”
Serendipity stared at her, clearly not pleased and fretting.
“Remember what Mama said about worry lines,” Fortuity reminded her softly as she rubbed her forehead.
With a sad smile, Serendipity mimicked the gesture. “I love you, Tutie, and I promise, all will be well.”
Fortuity huffed a mirthless laugh. “I love you too.” She didn’t add that Serendipity shouldn’t promise that which she could not control.
*
Matthew was in no mood for a dinner party, no matter how relaxed and intimate Knightwood promised it would be. He prayed that meant that neither Fortuity nor any of the other Broadmeres would be there. Ever since the masquerade ball, he’d struggled to control his thoughts about her. And the afternoon he’d read her stories had fouled his mind even more. Truth be told, he had always liked her best of all the Broadmere sisters, always finding comfort and joy in her presence, a genuine affinity, a friendship. Why the devil did he have to ruin it now by thinking of her as so much more, feeling her as so much more? As the months had passed, the impossible-to-ignore feeling became stronger, but he’d managed it. But then came the masquerade ball, and heaven help him, his ability to manage it was weakening.
“I do not wish to do this,” he grumbled as he climbed the front steps. He should have asked if Fortuity would be there, but good manners had held his tongue. If not for Knightwood swearing his wife would be reduced to tears if Matthew didn’t accept, he would have spent the evening at the club rather than the Knightwoods’ dining room. And since when did Lady Blessing crave his company so badly? Yes, they had grown quite close over the past year since she had married his best friend, but, to be honest, Fortuity’s currently low opinion of him could very well endanger his friendship with several from his inner circle—namely all the Broadmeres and possibly even Knightwood himself.
Gritting his teeth over what could prove to be a most uncomfortable evening, Matthew knocked on the door and hoped no one answered, so he might escape to the club and disappear into a dark corner with a strong drink. But, alas, the steady thump of someone approaching dashed all his hopes.
“Good evening, Lord Ravenglass.” Cadwick, the Knightwood butler for many years, swung the door open wider and bowed as he entered, then held out a white-gloved hand. “May I take your things, sir?”
Matthew shed his greatcoat, hat, and gloves and handed them over, but before the butler gave his things to a waiting footman, he stopped him. “This is a small dinner gathering, correct? So small it could in no way be defined as a dinner party ?”
“There is but one other guest yet to arrive, my lord,” the emotionless man said in a monotone that would send the liveliest of souls into a deep sleep.
Still unsatisfied, Matthew blocked the butler’s way again. “And how many guests have already arrived?”
As expressionless as always, Cadwick slowly blinked several times as though emerging from a trance. “Lord and Lady Knightwood await you in the parlor, my lord, along with the dowager baroness and two others.” The barrel-chested man swelled with a deep intake of air. “And a multitude of cats, as I am sure your lordship expected.” He handed Matthew’s things to the footman and headed down the hallway. “This way, my lord. Mind where you step. The most recent litter of kittens delight in tripping the unwary.”
Matthew tried not to laugh. The butler hated the felines that Knightwood’s mother adored. Matthew wasn’t all that fond of cats either, but the dowager baroness was a dear, sweet lady struggling with the plight of losing her hearing, and if cats made her happy, then so be it. As he entered the parlor, the cat-loving matron rushed to greet him before he was fully through the double doors.
“Lord Ravenglass, we feared you might not make it.”
He bowed to the lady and kissed both her hands. “Lady Roslynn, how could I possibly miss a dinner with you?”
Her eyes danced with happiness as she tugged him over to the rest of the group. “Just one more to arrive, my dears. Excuse me while I ensure Cadwick has properly fed my babies.”
Matthew didn’t recognize the couple standing with Blessing and Knightwood. He bowed to his hosts. “Knightwood. Lady Blessing.”
“Allow me to introduce Viscount Simon Carronbridge and his sister, Lady Sarah,” Knightwood said, then turned to the pair and tipped his head toward Matthew. “Carronbridge, Lady Sarah, this is Viscount Matthew Ravenglass, one of my oldest and most trusted friends.”
The pretty but somewhat shy lady curtsied, and Carronbridge bowed. “A pleasure to meet ye, Lord Ravenglass,” he said with a faint Scottish brogue.
Members of the Scottish peerage. No wonder Matthew had failed to recognize the two. He bowed. “The pleasure is mine, Lord Carronbridge, Lady Sarah.”
“Lady Fortuity Abarough,” Cadwick announced from the doorway.
Matthew turned to look at her and found it impossible to breathe. Her eyes were even stormier than usual, lending a thrilling fury to the loveliness of her delicate features. Her hair was carelessly swept up into a lively mass of dark golden curls that reflected the candlelight like a dragon’s coveted hoard of coins. Moving forward with her chin up, she fisted her hands, and the soft line of her jaw hardened as if she clenched her teeth. She was angry, but she still floated her enchanting beauty across the floor in a gown of the deepest blue, a contrasting portrait of serenity. She flashed her displeasure at him and her sister, glaring at them both and narrowing her eyes as though sighting a target on their foreheads.
Damn and blast it all. It was impossible to deny that he wanted her like he had wanted no other. What the devil was he to do? They were friends , or they had been until he had goaded her into hating him . Friends. He suddenly discovered he hated that word.
Blessing hurried over to Fortuity, linked her arm through hers, and escorted her to their little group. “Dearest sister, you must meet Thorne’s friends from Scotland. They are a delight.” With a graceful sweep of her hand, she motioned to the pair. “Lord Carronbridge, this is my sister, Lady Fortuity. Fortuity, this is Viscount Simon Carronbridge and his sister, Lady Sarah.”
Impressive and powerful in his kilt, even in Matthew’s grudging opinion, the ruddy-haired Scot made a leg. “’Tis an honor and a pleasure to meet ye, Lady Fortuity.”
Fortuity dropped a modest curtsy. “The pleasure is mine, my lord.” She offered his sister a polite nod. “It is lovely to meet you as well, Lady Sarah.”
“And yourself, my lady,” the reserved Lady Sarah said with the shyest of smiles.
“Lady Fortuity,” Matthew said with his best bow. “It is good to see you again.”
She glared at him until Blessing nudged her. “Good evening, Lord Ravenglass.”
Lord Ravenglass? He had indeed assumed the role of his own worst enemy, potentially ruining any possibility of friendship or anything else with the exquisite lady. Anything else? Was he brave enough to attempt anything else ? If it took the hatred for him out of her eyes, indeed he was foolish and courageous enough to rush in where angels feared to tread, as Alexander Pope had once so wisely written.
He rolled his shoulders and opened his mouth to speak to her, only to find himself cut off by the determined Scot.
“Lady Fortuity,” Carronbridge said, gallantly offering his arm, “would ye think it forward of me if I escorted ye to the dining room? Your fine sister here mentioned we would go in as soon as ye arrived.”
She stared at him for a long moment, as if confused by his ardent attention. “Why no, my lord. I would not think you forward at all.” She took his arm and fell in step beside him.
Matthew clenched his teeth so tightly his jaws ached, but he still found the presence of mind to offer his arm to Lady Sarah. “My lady? Might I escort you?”
She gracefully nodded even though she never lifted her gaze as she lightly rested her hand on his forearm. “Thank ye, my lord,” she said so quietly, he almost didn’t hear her.
Blessing and Knightwood brought up the rear even though they were the hosts. Matthew silently cursed them both for whatever purpose this cruel game of theirs was supposed to serve.
Once seated, Matthew found himself across from Fortuity and Lord Carronbridge, with Lady Sarah to his right. Blessing sat at one end of the table, and Knightwood the other. Lady Roslynn’s place remained empty to Matthew’s left. He arched a brow at Knightwood. “Surely Cadwick would not be so unwise as to fail to feed the herd?”
“Feed the herd?” Carronbridge repeated before Knightwood could answer. “Have ye livestock, man? Here in town?”
Knightwood laughed. “A herd of felines. Mother’s cats are her pride and joy. I sometimes wonder if she loves them more than she loves Blessing and me.” He nodded at Matthew. “And if Cadwick values his life, Mother will find all the dishes and bowls full of kippers and cream.”
“Do ye like wee moggies?” Carronbridge asked Fortuity, leaning toward her with obvious admiration and an intent to charm her.
She eyed him with uncertainty. “I am not sure, my lord. What are moggies ?”
“Ah, forgive me,” he said with a chuckle. “Cats, my lady. We Scots call them moggies.”
“I do like them,” she said, with a smile that Matthew wished she would turn on him. “I particularly enjoy their antics.”
“And their purring is most soothing,” Blessing said, before turning to the Scot’s sister. “Dogs or kitties, Lady Sarah. Which do you prefer?”
“I love them all,” Lady Sarah said with an almost cowering twitch of her shoulder. “Animals are the best sort of friends.”
Lady Roslynn blew into the dining room and took her place. “Do forgive me. I discovered the outside bowls were quite empty and had to correct that immediately. Zeus was beside himself waiting for his dinner.”
“Is Cadwick still alive?” Matthew couldn’t resist asking.
“Temporarily,” she said with a curt dip of her chin, then she smiled at Blessing. “Forgive me, my dear. I did not mean to keep your guests waiting.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Mother Roslynn.” Blessing rang the bell beside her plate and a pair of footmen appeared, one bearing a tureen of soup and the other prepared to ladle it. “Cook prepared our favorite artichoke soup. I do hope you’ll enjoy it.”
Matthew noticed Carronbridge had scooted closer to Fortuity than he considered appropriate. Had Blessing gone blind? Was she not supposed to see that her sister behaved properly? Although, in Fortuity’s defense, it was Carronbridge who had arranged his chair closer to hers. But everyone smiled and chatted as if nothing was amiss.
“We will be in London another fortnight, Lady Fortuity,” Carronbridge said. “I would consider it an honor to call upon ye during that time. Would ye find that acceptable, my lady?”
Fortuity paused with a spoonful of soup partway to her lips. After stealing a glance around the table, she lowered it back to the bowl, drew her napkin up from her lap, and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “That would be very nice, my lord. I look forward to seeing you again.”
“Is the soup not to your liking, Lord Ravenglass?” Blessing asked with pure wickedness gleaming in her eyes.
He was too bloody well angry to eat it, but couldn’t very well say that. “It is fine, my lady,” he forced through clenched teeth with a pointed glare at Fortuity and Carronbridge that Blessing needed to heed and do something about.
The infuriating woman simply smiled at him, then turned her attention to Lady Sarah. “Is there no way you can convince your brother to stay in London longer? The two of you are most welcome, and as spring approaches, there will be so many delightful gatherings.”
“But your confinement approaches as well, my lady,” Matthew told Lady Blessing with the slightest narrowing of his eyes. What was she trying to do? Marry Fortuity off to a bloody Scot?
“I would be most happy to provide introductions should you decide to stay longer,” Fortuity told Lady Sarah. “And the first would be to my sister, Grace. She loves animals too. In fact, her hounds have the run of our townhouse.”
Lady Sarah blushed and smiled broadly, seeming to relax for the first time the entire evening. “Thank ye for such warm hospitality, but I fear I am at the mercy of my brother and whatever he decides.”
Carronbridge laughed and lifted his glass. “If my wee sister wishes to stay longer, then we shall stay longer.” He touched the crystal to Fortuity’s goblet, sending the clearest ting through the room. “I look forward to an extended visit.”
“As do I,” Fortuity said, then sipped her wine.
Bloody hell, Matthew thought. What the devil was he to do now?