“I think you know the answer to that.” Fortuity paced the width of the small room, keeping an ear tuned to the entryway just beyond the partially open door. A distinctive clatter outside made her hurry over to the front window and peep through the sheer lace panels hanging between the heavy draperies of the deepest blue. Her heart fluttered like a captured bird beating its wings against the cage. “They are here.”
“Calm down. You’ve gone all red in the face. You’ll have Mrs. Flackney running for that awful bottle of tonic she and Mama always poured down our throats at the first sign of frailty. Sometimes I think they gave it to us out of spite.” Grace rose from the settee, shook out her skirts, and grudgingly joined Fortuity in the middle of the room to stare at the doorway. “Are we going out there to meet them, or standing here and pretending we don’t know they have arrived?”
“Shh.” Fortuity turned her head and strained to pick up on every word from the hallway. The voices she heard perplexed her. “Matthew is not alone,” she whispered, then wrinkled her nose and stifled a groan. “He brought his cousin.”
Grace pulled a face. “The back-biting cow?”
Fortuity nodded.
“Lovely. Today should be interesting, to say the least.” Grace resettled her stance. “I make no promises regarding my behavior.”
Fortuity eased closer to the door, picking up on another voice. “And Mrs. Sykesbury as well.” She turned and grimaced at her sibling. “Why on earth did he bring the two of them?”
Her sister immediately brightened. “With such a wealth of chaperones, I shall not be needed after all.”
Fortuity caught her arm and tugged her closer. “Oh yes, you are. Do not think to escape.Ineed you for moral support.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “As you wish.”
Walters pushed open the door to the small parlor and gave Fortuity what she interpreted as a befuddled scowl. Or, at least, the poor old butler appeared more confused than usual. “Lord Ravenglass, Mrs. Sykesbury, and Miss Sykesbury,” he announced in a deep, raspy drawl Fortuity always heard in her mind whenever writing ghostly graveyard scenes. “Will refreshments be required before the outing?”
“No thank you, Walters. Only our cloaks, please.” She invited the trio into the room with a wave of her hand, noting their expressions appeared somewhat strained. “Is something wrong?” she asked Matthew.
After angling a disgruntled glare at his cousin Eleanor, he tipped a formal nod that suggested he was tensed tighter than an overly wound watch. “I do hope the emergency that called His Grace away is not dire.”
“Sorry?” Fortuity sidled a glance at Grace, who responded with a shrug that said she was just as confused.
Matthew smiled, but it was a tight, miserable smile that held no joy. “I simply found it strange that he would invite us on an outing if his diary was full, so I assumed today’s meeting must have been urgent and unavoidable.”
Fortuity noticed how Eleanor backed up a step and drew closer to her mother. There was ill afoot, and that little chit had something to do with it. “Youinvited us—Chance and I—on this outing, but we replied it would be Gracie and myself, since Chance had prior obligations. Shall I have Walters fetch the note to clear away any confusion?”
“No. That will not be necessary.” He shifted and offered her another polite nod. “I understand everything now and will address it with the responsible party at another time.”
“Are you not the lucky gentleman, cousin?” Eleanor said in an overly bright tone. “Escorting four ladies to the British Museum?”
“Return to the carriage, Eleanor. Immediately.”
Eleanor’s mother gasped. “My lord, please do not be harsh with her.”
“You may go with her,” Matthew said in a somewhat gentler tone. “I wish to speak to Lady Fortuity and her sister privately before we are on our way.”
“But cousin—” Eleanor stepped forward, then halted at the viscount’s icy glare. “Come, Mama. Let us wait in the carriage.”
After the women departed, Matthew closed the parlor door behind them, then turned back and faced Fortuity and Grace. “I must apologize for my cousin. It would appear she took it upon herself to create today’s outing. I presume she did so to draw closer to your brother. After all, he is an eligible duke and quite coveted by the Marriage Mart—or so I am told.”
“But she had to know he wouldn’t be joining us,” Fortuity said. “We sent a reply explaining his full schedule.”
“Why would she continue the game if she failed at drawing in all her players?” Grace asked.
“She overplayed her advantage.” Matthew’s jaw flexed as if he struggled to restrain himself from baring his teeth in a snarl. “She probably told me about the invitation and arranged our part of the outing before she knew her prey had escaped her snare.”
“I see.” The painful realization that Matthew had not instigated the meeting knotted in the pit of Fortuity’s stomach like a poorly digested meal. He hadn’t wanted to see her. In fact, had probably not planned on seeing her again until another function accidentally brought them together. And apparently, she was the silliest of ninnies for dwelling on last night’s events.She could now do the only thing she knew to do: dismiss the poor man and give him his means of escape.
“Do not feel obligated to continue this farce,” she said. “I am sure you have much more important things to do.”
“Nothing is more important to me than you.”
Grace bumped into her hard enough to bounce her to one side. “I am going to go see where Walters has gotten to with those cloaks. Leave the door wide open and maintain an appropriate distance between each other until my return, or I shall set my hounds on you.”
