“I shall warn him.” She returned to her chair and thoughtfully stirred her tea. “What will happen to Mrs. Sykesbury when Eleanor successfully snares a husband? While she seems to love her daughter very much, Eleanor sometimes seems as though she forgets she even has a mother.”
“Agnus is welcome to stay here as long as she wishes.” A happy woof from the hallway made him roll his eyes. “Her and that infernal dog, who in a moment of weakness I bought for her, thinking it might help her overcome her extended grief.”
Fortuity gave him a wistful smile that hit him as so sad it squeezed his heart. “You are a kind man, Matthew, even though you do not wish anyone else to realize it.”
There was so much he wanted to say to her but couldn’t. Admittedly, he was a coward, but he feared losing a cherished friendship by making the mistake of trying to turn it into something more. In his experience, love never lasted. His parents had gone to their graves hating one another, and when he’d risked opening his heart, it had won him the humiliation of standing at the altar, waiting for a bride who had run off to Gretna Green with a duke.
He snorted and waved away her compliment. “Do not tell anyone I am nice, I beg you. My reputation would be ruined.”
Mrs. Sykesbury swept into the room, wringing her hands as she always did. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize Lady Grace had taken Ignatius for a walk and left you unaccompanied.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Fortuity said. “The doors remained wide open, and as you can see, I am in my chair enjoying my tea and Matthew is in his.”
The perpetually nervous woman flittered over to the settee and perched on the edge of the cushion, looking on with the misery of one waiting to march to the gallows.
Matthew stifled a groan and turned back to Fortuity. “May I please read your story now? I promise to do better.” With poor Agnus souring the room, he should be able to concentrate. “Please?”
Fortuity stared at him with a critical glare, then rose and picked up the pages she had tucked back into the bundle. “I shall grant you one more hour. No more.” She handed them over. “Gracie and I do not wish to overstay our welcome.”
He gratefully accepted the pages and settled deeper into his chair. “I daresay Ignatius shall be distraught once you leave.”
“He is enjoying himself with Lady Grace,” Mrs. Sykesbury said as she picked up her needlework and held it for Fortuity to inspect. “Do you enjoy embroidery, Lady Fortuity?”
“I am afraid I have no talent for it,” Fortuity said. “Yours is quite lovely, though. I particularly like that shade of green you selected for the sprigs.”
Matthew easily immersed himself in Fortuity’s story this time. With such riveting conversation in the room, he was grateful for the escape. It never ceased to amaze him how Agnus could chat for hours about absolutely nothing. He noted Fortuity displayed the patience of Job as his cousin droned on and on about her needlework. Heaven help them all.
He forced himself to concentrate, finding the flowery script and turn of phrase pleasing and easy to read. Fortuity’s personality shone in the prose. Whenever her heroine laughed or spoke, it was Fortuity’s voice and mannerisms. It was Fortuity he pictured in every scene. He found himself smiling and perfectly content to stay inside the romantic tale for however long as he was allowed. The more he read, the more the hero infuriated him. One did not treat a lady with such casual disregard. Did the fool not see that the lady loved him?
When he reached the final page, the interruption in the tale jarred him. “I need the rest, Fortuity.”
She shook her head and took the papers from him. “I am sorry, my lord, but it is time for Gracie and me to go. What did you think of the portion I gave you?”
He stared at her, frustrated beyond belief that she was actually going to leave and take the rest of the book with her. “Quite compelling. But some of your scenes are inaccurate.”
“Inaccurate?” She arched a brow, daring him to continue.
Her scenes weren’t inaccurate, but instinctively, he felt if he didn’t stir her ire, they might not enjoy another visit like today’s. “Yes. Inaccurate. For instance, the way the hero treats his lady love. I find it hard to believe she would remain in love with him when he behaves like such a churl.”
“It is known asgrowth, my lord. No character is perfect, and neither are relationships. They must get to know one another, work through each other’s faults, andgrow.”
He delighted at the irritation in her tone. If he nurtured it just enough, she might agree to another visit, so they could work through her stories. This afternoon had been most enjoyable even with its few bumps along the way. She brought a brightness to his home that wasn’t there before. He hungered for more. “I agree that some growth is expected, but do you not believe a proper kiss should have happened between them by now? They dance around each other somewhat, but he is barely pursuing her.”
“Maybe he is extraordinarily dull-witted and wouldn’t know a fine opportunity if it bit him on the end of his nose. And they are not even engaged yet, so there should not be a kiss.” She tucked the pages into the bundle, refolded the cloth around them, and secured the ribbons with a hard jerk. “Besides, they experience a stolen kiss in chapter three.”
“Let me read it.”
“No. I told you it was time for Gracie and me to go.”
“Let me read the kiss first.”
“Why? So you can tell me I wrote that wrong as well?”
“Have you ever been kissed, my lady?”
Agnus gasped from her perch on the settee. “My lord, that is not an appropriate question to ask a young lady.”
“Purely professional, Agnus. If Lady Fortuity has never been kissed, how can she properly describe a passionate embrace?”
