He’d definitely met this woman before...
More cheers from the revelers broke into his train of thought. She went to quiet her dog as he approached and then… “Have a care, madam!” He shouted.
But it was too late.
The spinster lost her balance and fell backwards into the precarious structure. His girls looked on in astonishment while the entire apparatus collapsed to the ground.
And then.
Silence.
“Misfortune?” Eloise took a timid step toward the pile of canvas that had swallowed the poor woman whole. Unfortunate indeed.
“You must help her, Papa!” Eloise implored him as though the woman had fallen into some great abyss. “You have to save her! What if she cannot breathe?”
“I’m certain she can breathe.”
Althea begged him with soulful eyes.
Dropping to his haunches, he began unfolding the heavy material, fold by fold. With one final tug he revealed the woman.
She lay in repose, as though the fall had indeed killed her. One glance at her bosom, rising and falling, assured him that it had not.
Rather generous bosom.
His gaze travelled upward, and a recollection tantalized his mind as he noticed golden red strands shining in her chestnut hair. Long, thick lashes fanned out against her flushed complexion. And such full lips, he’d not known since…
“Miss Fortune?” Eloise dropped to her knees beside him.
“Misfortune?” He questioned. “Calm down, Eloise, I believe she yet lives.”
“No, Papa. That’s her name. Miss Fortune. Matilde Fortune.”
He’d heard that name before. “Miss Fortune.” It felt familiar on his lips as he touched the woman’s shoulder. “Are you injured?”
She opened her eyes, and then raised a hand to shade the sun from them.
“Only my pride,” she admitted with a rueful smile. Miss Fortune wasn’t a beauty by societal standards, but her smile generated a surprising energy inside of him. Taking her hand, he tugged her so that she could sit up. “Oh, but I’ve made a mess!
She had indeed, and yet, he sensed laughter could overflow from her any moment.
“You’re sorry, aren’t you, Peaches?” Althea stepped forward, cradling the pup in her arms. As she cuddled the tiny head beneath her chin, she glanced sideways at her father defiantly.
Miss Fortune made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Naughty, naughty Peaches! She forgot her manners, didn’t she? I’m so glad you could comfort her. She isn’t used to being around quite so many people at once. She certainly likes you, my lady.”
Althea nodded solemnly and then a hint of a smile danced on her lips.
This––Miss Fortune woman––had cast some sort of spell on all of them.
Had this been Eloise, he wouldn’t have been surprised at the behavior at all. But to see his painfully shy sweetheart having a perfectly normal conversation with a stranger…
He swallowed hard and turned back to the woman still sitting on the ground. Only then did he realize her hand was still clasped within his. He dropped it and then immediately experienced an odd sensation of loss.
At sixes and sevens, Willoughby held her gaze and was once again caught in the feeling that he’d known her.
And before he could assist her, she’d brushed at her skirt, swung her feet around and pushed herself off the ground.
Rising himself, he glanced at his daughter and then back at Miss Fortune.
