Before Fortuity could stop her, her sister rushed from the room. She threw up her hands and shook her head. “Today’s madness appears to be contagious. I am so very sorry.” When he didn’t smile or answer, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and wondered how one of her characters might handle this situation. How would she write her way out of this scene? “All really is well between us, Matthew, if that is your worry.”
“But it is not,” he said softly while moving closer. “I hurt you last night. Do not deny it, Fortuity. Your eyes reveal everything you feel.”
She forced a smile, inwardly cringing when she felt it slipping. “You protected me from Lord Smellington, twice. You helped me fight the crush to get a glass of lemonade, and you told me I am your friend. How is any of that hurtful?” She swallowed hard, wishing he would just go away and take his cousins with him. Could they not just pretend as if his overly loud conversation with Lady Serafina hadn’t happened?
He stared at her, the somber gray of his eyes darker than she had ever seen them before. “When I say that you are my dear friend whom I hold in the highest regard, I beg you to know that there are very few in my life whom I trust as I trust you.” Closing the distance between them, he took her hands in his.
“Your sister’s hounds can just be damned,” he said with a sad grin, then fixed her with a woeful gaze. “I no longer trust easily, Fortuity, and I am sure your brother-in-law has told you why. The man gossips worse than the tattle sheets.” He squeezed her hands, sending such a series of warm tingles through her that she struggled to breathe.
“I know of your history, my lord.” She cut herself off and clenched her teeth. No, she could notnudgehim as Chance and Serendipity wished her to.
“You know of my history—but what?”
She tried to pull her hands away, but he held them tighter. So she bowed her head, finding herself too great of a coward to look him in the eyes. “How is it you read me so easily?”
“Because I have watched you closely at every opportunity. You fascinate me,” he whispered.
With a hard yank, she pulled her hands free and turned away from him. “Why do you say such things?”
“Because it is the truth. Should I not always speak the truth with you?”
“You should not speak the truth and make it sound as if it is so much more.” There. She’d said it.
“So much more?”
At the risk of her already aching heart, she faced him. “Chance and Serendipity wished for me to use this outing to discover if you had perhaps changed your mind about marrying. They feel your behavior shows more than simple friendship.”
“And how doyoufeel, Fortuity?”
“Very confused.” She allowed herself a heavy sigh.
He nodded and bowed his head. “I am sorry.”
“As am I,” she quietly agreed.
He scrubbed a hand across his face, looked aside, then faced her once more, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, justas she had known he would be. All was ruined between them now. Now she would not even have him in her life as a friend.
“Perhaps you should go,” she gently suggested. “I promise Gracie will not be disappointed. She was my chaperone under duress.”
He frowned at her, not an angry or unhappy frown, but an apologetic one. “Perhaps I should, but I would like to make amends and heal our friendship. I cherish you, Fortuity, and wish for things to be well—truly well—between us.”
She shook her head to deny him, but he held up a hand to silence her.
“I can help you publish your stories if you will let me.”
Those words would have been magical to her at one time, but now they were hollow, no longer holding a bright, shining hope for the future. She felt as if she had just unwrapped a much-longed-for gift only to discover it wasn’t what she wanted after all.
“Publish my stories?” she repeated, forcing the question through the dismal fog clouding her mind. She had to say something but didn’t have the heart to disappoint him by declining an offer that would invariably cause her more pain by bringing her into his presence more often.
“I am well connected with several reputable publishers who will listen to my recommendations.”
His surge of confidence made her want to weep and shout that she didn’t want that from him. He had made her want so much more, made her want that which she could never have. She swallowed hard, afraid to speak, afraid her composure would slip. The best she could manage was a smile and a nod.
“Of course, I would need to read your stories to speak intelligently about them, but I am sure they are wonderful. How could they not be, after all the care you took to study human nature?”
“My studious scribbling from the shadows,” she said more to herself than him.
He laughed, oblivious to her struggle. “Yes, indeed. I have no doubt your studies have been quite fruitful. Will I recognize any of your characters? Have you changed the names to protect their true identities?”
