“I have observed such behavior at parties when couples sneak off to the gardens,” Fortuity said with a low growl. “I assure you, my description is quite detailed. One does not have to experience everything one writes about. In chapter seven, the hero is shot, and I have never experienced that. All I needed to draw upon was my brother-in-law’s experience to achieve the vividness required.”
He feigned a disinterested shrug. “Well… There are other inaccuracies as well, but since you feel you must leave, we shan’t discuss them now. But the story is well written and shows promise. I feel sure publishers would love it—once we revise and edit a few things.”
“Edit a few things?” she said through gritted teeth.
With a smile that he knew would irritate her even more, he pushed himself up from his chair. “Only minor things, my lady. But since you feel you must leave, we’ve no time to discuss them now.”
“Gracie!” she called out while narrowing her eyes at him. “Make haste. It is time for us to go.”
Grace appeared in the doorway with Ignatius at her side. She eyed Fortuity, then shifted her gaze to him. “What did you say to her?”
“I merely advised her that her stories bear a few inaccuracies that some slight revisions would easily remedy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then I advise you to have your man fetch our things, because I can assure you my sister is most definitely ready to remove herself from your presence.”
He turned to Fortuity, praying he hadn’t foiled his plan for another pleasant afternoon in the lady’s company. But then again, should he distance himself from her? No, he couldn’t—or wouldn’t. Gads, what the devil was wrong with him? What had the woman done to him? “You wished for an opinion, my lady. You know I mean no ill will, and I do feel the publishers will love your story.”
“Our things, my lord, so that we might go.” She hugged her bundle of stories as if it were a babe. “Posthaste, if you please. This visit is over.”
“But there will be another visit, so I might review the rest of the tale?” She had to agree. He couldn’t bear it if she refused.
She glared at him and hugged the bundle tighter.
“Please, Fortuity?” he whispered. “I shall do better and not be such an arse. I promise.”
“I shall think on it,” she said, her voice cracking just enough to give him hope. “Good day, Lord Ravenglass.” She charged past Grace into the hallway.
Grace pointed at him as if sighting a pistol. “Stop hurting my sister.”
“I do not mean to,” he said, the confession catching in his throat.
With a loud snort of disbelief, she shook her head and left the room.
Chapter Five
“First, he couldn’tpossibly 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.”
