He bowed his head, then turned back to the butler and spoke in a kinder tone. “Thank you, Thebson. That will be all for now. As I said, please see that the ladies’ garments are properly dried and brushed.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Thank you,” Fortuity said quietly to Matthew. “Perhaps one of your footmen could help Thebson keep things sorted. Make the footman a butler in training to save Thebson’s pride.”
“The man left you standing in the cold rain, and you wish to help him?”
“He didn’t do it maliciously.”
“No. He did not.” He frowned at her, as if unable to define what sort of creature she was. “But most ladies do not appreciate a good soaking with icy rain.”
“Well, I don’t either. However, what’s done is done, and there is no reason to be petty about it. As I said, he did not do it maliciously.” She angled her way past him and smiled at Mrs. Sykesbury. “We didn’t get to speak the night of the masquerade ball. Your dress was so lovely.”
Mrs. Sykesbury gave a graceful curtsy. “Thank you, Lady Fortuity. You are too kind.” She moved closer, wringing her hands. “And please forgive Ignatius for his rudeness. He has not been with me long, and we are still working on his manners.”
Fortuity waved away the apology. “Do not apologize. I am quite used to rambunctious puppies. Gracie has several who have the run of the townhouse.”
The older woman tucked her chin and tipped her head, appearing as shy and retiring as a wallflower nearing spinsterhood. “Again, you are most kind. Excuse me while I ensure Mrs. Greer has a proper tea in the making.”
Fortuity watched her go, her heart aching for the poor woman whose world had fallen apart when her husband died. “I wish I could help her,” she said more to herself than Matthew.
“Agnus is better than she was, which I suppose is something.”
Unable to resist, Fortuity eyed the staircase. “And will Eleanor be joining us?”
“Eleanor will not be joining us. She is spending the day in her rooms.” Matthew went to the side table beside the entryway bench and picked up the bundle wrapped in a dark cloth and secured with a matching ribbon. Staring down at the package as if it were as rare and precious as smuggled jewels, he gently rested his hand on top of it. “Thank you for entrusting me with your stories.”
“I am not leaving them here.” He needed to understand that. “Gracie and I shall stay while you read, and when we leave, my stories leave with me.”
He frowned at her—but not really a frown, more of a pained expression, a realization that perhaps they were no longer the close friends they once were. “You do not trust me.”
“I trust no one with my stories.”
“Then how do you hope to ever get them published? Publishers will need time to review them before deciding whether they wish to print them.”
She hadn’t thought of that, but it didn’t matter. That still didn’t mean she would leave them unguarded with Matthew.
Maybe he was right. She no longer trusted him. Not since the masquerade ball and then his cousin’s manipulation of the outing that never happened. “I brought them here for you to read and provide an opinion. I will decide on my course of action once I hear your recommendations. Until that time, they shall remain in my possession.”
“Will things ever be right again between us, Fortuity?” he asked softly.
“Of course,” she lied with her best fake smile. “After all, we are friends. Are we not?”
*
Even though theprose of Fortuity’s story was compelling and entertaining, try as he might, Matthew could not concentrate on it. Instead, he repeatedly found himself watching her as she and Grace played with the impertinent Ignatius by tossing the dog’s favorite bit of knotted rope.
It wasn’t just her beauty or the way she laughed that drew his focus back to her again and again. It was something he couldn’t define, an impossible-to-ignore magnetism, as if she were a rarevintage wine and he was dying of thirst. How was it that every eligible male of thetonwasn’t beating down her door, begging for her hand in marriage?
“Well?” she asked as she rose, returned to the center table laden with the offerings of a proper tea, and poured them all another cup. “How far have you gotten?”
He stared down at her flowery script and couldn’t recall a single detail of anything he had read. A skimming of the last few sentences revealed it was some sort of garden scene where the hero was attempting to charm his lady love. “Uhm… How could she be in the garden without a chaperone? Does he ruin her?”
Fortuity stared at him as if he’d sprouted a unicorn horn in the middle of his forehead. “Her maid is right there cutting flowers. How did you miss that?”
He blinked and lifted the page higher, hiding behind it like a schoolboy caught short in his studies. What the devil was wrong with him? He had promised to do this to repair their friendship, hadn’t he? He cleared his throat and resettled himself in his chair. “Ah… Yes. Right here. How could I have missed that? Forgive me.”
She perched on the edge of the chair next to him, still frowning. “The garden scene is the opening of the first chapter. Do you mean to tell me you haven’t gotten past the first page?”
