Page 1 of Fortune’s Final Folly

Prologue

Oxfordshire, England

December 1814

The blustery winter winds whipped at Madame Zeta’s thick woolen cloak, pulling at the tattered folds and allowing the bitter cold to reach beneath to the thin cloth of her worn blouse and skirt. The severe English temperatures during the harsher months had ceased to affect her from the day her daughter, Katherina, was ripped from her bosom.

Nothing—not her lack of a home, threadbare blouse, matted hair, nor her worn boots—caused her any pain. She lacked far more essential necessities than mere possessions. Her heart had been stolen from her.

Before, the organ had beat with such vitality she’d feared her chest could not contain her love. Now, it was empty. Barren. Devoid of anything but hatred, loathing, and a determination borne of years of endless searching, relentless longing, and sleepless nights spent dreaming of her revenge.

From her spot atop the crest of the property, she glared down at the entrance to Shrewbury Gardens.

It had once been a place she’d longed to live and raise a family with her husband, Pierce.

Yet, when she’d arrived that dream had been stripped from her as quickly as her name.

After so many years under the guise of Madame Zeta, she’d likely not recognize her old name if someone uttered it…not that anyone but Lavinia knew her true identity.

A’laya De Vere, the Countess of Holderness.

Although, since she’d received confirmation that the duke had died, leaving his only son, Pierce as heir apparent, she was now the Duchess of Shrewbury—if she ever wanted to claim such a tarnished title.

She scoffed at the thought.

She’d rather perish than take the name and title of a man she despised. Never would she be known as anything but Madame Zeta.

But what she wouldn’t give to be plain Miss A’laya Banesworth, daughter of an impoverished baron from Nottinghamshire, England. Cherished offspring of Eugene and Chloe Banesworth, Lord and Lady Oderton. If she’d listened to her mother’s warnings and not fallen under Pierce’s treacherous spell, she never would have wed the then-earl, left her family estate, had his child, found herself abandoned, and her babe stolen from her bosom.

Her chest tightened, as it often did when she allowed her thoughts to meander down the path of her final day living as a proper lady at Shrewbury Gardens.

If she hadn’t been such a senseless fool in her youth, Zeta would still possess a heart. She was thankful her mother hadn’t lived long enough to see how shortsighted and simple Zeta had turned out to be.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have the guile necessary to prevent her world from shattering right before her eyes. Her own mother—living or not—would have been just as helpless where the old Duchess of Shrewbury was concerned.

Zeta had paid a hard price for her folly since the day she had taken to believing Pierce’s lies and trusted his mother to care for her and Katherina.

“My child.” A hand, light as a feather but as familiar as anything landed on Madame Zeta’s shoulder. “Have I failed ye?”

She turned toward Lavinia, the old woman who’d been a mother to her since the day she’d taken Zeta in all those years ago. Starved, broken, and nearly dead, Zeta had wanted nothing more than to die when the Shrewbury coachman dumped her near Lavinia’s caravan. However, Lavinia had told Zeta that one day, she’d reunite with her Katherina. Both women had held onto that declaration of fate. For Zeta, it was a deeply buried and sometimes painful hope, while Lavinia declared the fortune was a prophecy destined to come true.

In that moment, with Zeta battered and wrecked both on the inside and out, she’d decided to live…if only to see her daughter’s face once more before her days in this world were up.

With each passing year, it was Lavinia who neared her end, not Zeta. And never did they get any closer to finding Katherina.

Unfortunately, she didn’t possess a heart, if she had it would splinter ever more to see the kind old woman’s steady decline.

How many times had Zeta insisted they journey to Shrewbury Gardens to see if Katherina had been brought back to her father’s family home? How many times had Lavinia joined Zeta on the very crest they now stood upon, overlooking the place Zeta had expected to call home? No, not Zeta. A’laya had longed to call Shrewbury Gardens home. But A’laya and her tendency to see the good in everyone was gone.

Forever.

Madame Zeta was wise enough to know that if she ever expected to see her daughter again, she needed to find her. And as things had often been for Zeta, nothing came easily or without great effort.

As they stood on the ridge together this last time, Lavinia’s fingers tightened on Zeta’s shoulder. “I never meant to fail ye, me dear girl.”

“You haven’t failed me,” Zeta mumbled, setting her hand on Lavinia’s cold fingers and squeezing gently. “I have failed myself—and Katherina.”

“Soon, I will be gone. But your time, and your search, are far from over.”