He longed to catch her up in his arms and beg forgiveness for being such a fool. But she looked ready to bolt, like a frightened fawn in the woods. “We will work out our life together and find happiness. I am sure of it.”
Her forced smile brought him no comfort, but it couldn’t be helped. The battle to win her heart and trust was a delicate and strategic balancing act of patience, timing, and the careful nurturing of her forgiveness for his stupidity and pride. And he would win this battle. For Fortuity. For himself. But most of all for their future children.
*
“You are lovelinessitself, my lady.” Anne secured Fortuity’s curls into a becoming bundle of ringlets high on her head, then tugged some free to cascade in an alluring temptation down over one shoulder.
“Thank you.” Fortuity stared at her reflection in the dressing table mirror, already missing the chaos of her many sisters fluttering about while they all attempted to get ready at the same time. “Is everything packed and ready to be moved to Ravenglass Townhouse?”
“Yes, my lady. I’ve but to add the last of your items while you and his lordship attend your ceremony. Soon as I sort those things out, I’ll have George load the wagon and take me over. He said he’d stay and help unload too, so’s I can have everything ready for you when you arrive.”
Fortuity swallowed hard and concentrated on breathing deeply—in, then out. She’d forgone eating or drinking anything as a precaution to keep from casting up her accounts all over the vicar. “And you packed my quills and ink? My foolscap and stationery? Everything?”
“Yes, my lady. Your writing desk too, because His Grace said you most certainly had to have it when he told me I was going along to be your lady’s maid.”
“I am glad you are coming with me, Anne. It will be strange to be one of so few females in a house.” The unnerving quiet of the dressing room made her clench her fists. “Where is Gracie, by the way? And Merry and Joy? I know Felicity and Serendipity are busy seeing to the preparations of the wedding breakfast, but I cannot imagine why Gracie, Merry, and Joy are not up here lending me moral support.”
Anne pulled a face as she held out a selection of necklaces for Fortuity to choose from. “Far be it from me to gossip, butMrs. Flackney overheard His Grace instructing the ladies that if they dared help you escape your vows, he’d give away all of Lady Grace’s hounds, ban Lady Joy from the gaming tables at every party, and condemn Lady Merry to dance with Lord Pellington at every ball.” She tapped on the necklace in the middle. “This ruby was a favorite of your mother’s and matches the embroidery on your gown.”
Fortuity nodded, not really caring which necklace she wore. “What about Lady Knightwood?” She hated the whining in her tone, but she needed her sisters, and Chance making them afraid to gather around her was not fair in the slightest. Even if the others were too leery of his temperament to come to the dressing room, Blessing could come and keep her company. She was married and mistress of her own home. “Do you know if she has arrived yet?”
Anne fastened the ruby necklace around her throat. “She has. But it’s my understanding that her ladyship is quite uncomfortable. She is in the parlor with her feet propped on a stool.” She lowered her voice. “You should see them, my lady. Her ankles and feet have swollen so that her slippers look ready to pop right off.”
Fortuity tried to suppress a heavy sigh and failed. She supposed she was being selfish, wishing for her sisters’ support. After all, in their minds, she was marrying the man she loved. But what they didn’t understand was that Matthew was being forced to do something he had sworn he would never do. Admittedly, his kindness and thoughtfulness only made her love him more, but he still thought of her as afriend—not a wife. She could see it in his eyes. Surely such a thing would doom their marriage to failure.
She squirmed atop the cushioned bench, remembering his unmistakable pity for her the moment they both realized they had walked into Eleanor’s trap in Lady Burrastone’s library. Hewas marrying her because he not only felt honor bound to do so, but because he felt sorry for her. He knew she had no other options, other than that temperamental Scottish lord whom she had intended to send back to the Highlands at her next opportunity.
Anne brought forward the ruby earrings that matched the necklace, then halted and frowned at Fortuity’s reflection in the mirror. “Your sisters’ ears are pierced, but yours…”
“Are not.” Fortuity rubbed her earlobes, remembering the battle to keep them safe from Serendipity’s needle. “The necklace is enough. Serendipity or one of the others can have the earrings.” She touched the simple necklace of a single ruby dangling from a delicate chain. “I prefer a quieter look.”
“As you wish.” The maid returned the earrings to the velvet trays of jewelry she had spread out across the top of the low dresser.
A persistent and ever-louder noise at the closed sitting room door made Fortuity turn that way. “What is that? It sounds like scratching.”
Anne hurried over and opened it. “Oh my goodness. Shoo, Gastric. You are not supposed to be in here.”
“Let him in,” Fortuity said while reaching for Grace’s favorite hound, named Gastric not only for his gluttony but his regular habit of filling a room with eye-burning flatulence. “Come here, old friend. At least you’ve come to see me.”
With a happy woof, he ambled over and nudged his tawny head up into her hand for the pats he knew he deserved.
As Fortuity smiled down into his adoring brown eyes, she noticed a rolled parchment secured with a ribbon around his neck. “What is this, Gastric? Are you a spy for the Crown now?”
He merely wagged his tail in a faster circle.
She untied the ribbon, unrolled the parchment, and read to herself:Even though we are not with you, we are with you.Never doubt it. Chance is an arse. But you knew that. Love, G.Before rising from the bench, she scratched the sweet dog under the chin. “Thank you, Gastric. You have been a much appreciated messenger.”
With a glance at Anne, who was pawing through a trunk in search of who knew what, she crossed to the hearth and tossed the note from her beloved sister into the flames so Chance wouldn’t discover it and become even more annoying. Then she kissed the top of the dog’s head and rubbed his floppy ears. “Tell Gracie I said thank you,” she whispered against his velvety muzzle.
He responded with another happy woof, then trotted out of the room.
“Thank goodness,” Anne said as she watched him go. “We mustn’t have a bride that smells of dog.”
“Gracie bathes Gastric weekly. He does not smell.”
Anne wrinkled her nose and shook her head as she closed the trunk in front of her. “He is a sweet dog, my lady, but hisfragranceis unmistakable at times.”
“With that, I cannot argue.”
