Fortune's Bride Page 7

  Leaning forward, Fenwig agreed readily. "That sounds like a fine idea, sir."

  "Are there any ladies who have caught my grandson's interest?" the duke asked, nibbing his hands together.

  Fenwig's expression grew apprehensive. "None other than a Gypsy called Madam Zora."

  "Naturally," Lord Hammond said dryly. What else did he expect from a base-born grandson? Of course it was completely unacceptable that Ian demonstrate even the slightest interest in this Madam Zora person. The last thing he wanted was some Gypsy tramp in his family! The dukedom had already survived one scandal. There was no telling if it could survive another. "I know about the girl. I've seen him exchanging snippets with the Gypsy myself." Shaking his head, Lord Hammond declared, "It appears that I've decided to become involved in my grandson's future just in the nick of time, doesn't it, Fenwig?"

  "Indeed it does, your grace," Fenwig murmured.

  A wise man always makes the best of a bad situation, Lord Hammond decided with a firm nod.

  "Tell me, Fenwig," Lord Hammond began as he sat down again. "Who is on the marriage mart this Season?"

  * * *

  He had to fight to keep his eyes open.

  Standing in the middle of Lord Covtngton's draw ing room, Ian listened to Lady Anne Trent prattle on about her latest visit to the modiste.

  "... and then she proceeded to tell me that the crushed velvet I'd chosen was rose-colored, when I could see that it was, in feet, a few shades darker than a true red rose ..."

  Stifling back a yawn, Ian prayed that Lady Anne would spy someone else she'd rather talk to about her outing. Somehow he didn't think he'd be that lucky.

  "... so my mama told me to simply ignore the modiste since I had a far superior fashion sense and to..."

  As Peter walked into the room, Ian saw an escape from the deadly dull tendrils of Lady Anne. "As much as I hate to tear myself away," Ian began after he'd interrupted her incessant monologue, "I simply must speak with Lord Essex, so if you'll excuse me..."

  Blessing good manners that dictated Lady Anne acquiesce to his request, Ian moved away. Unfortunately, he'd only made it a few steps when yet another lady blocked his path. He offered Lady Catherine a faint smile before slipping around her.

  "Lord Dorset!"

  Lady Catherine's call froze him to the core. Slowly, Ian turned toward her. "Excuse me? What did you call me?"

  Hesitantly, she took a step forward. "Lord Dorset," she repeated shyly.

  "You have mistaken me for someone else, my lady," Ian said stiffly. "My name is Mr. Ian Fortune."

  "Yes, I know," Lady Catherine insisted "Ian Fortune, Marquess of Dorset."

  "Again, my lady, I can only say you are mistaken." Turning on his heel, Ian turned his back on her. With' out pause, he made his way toward his friend.

  "What's gotten you in a latherr Peter asked as soon as Ian drew abreast of him.

  "Lady Catherine just called me Lord Dorset," Ian ground out, his stomach turning at the title.

  "Ah, yes, well that is only to be expected... considering ..." Peter added before trailing off.

  "Considering what?"

  "Considering that your grandfather has chosen to acknowledge you."

  "What?" Ian's question echoed throughout the room.

  "Good God, man, pipe down," chastised Peter as he glanced around.

  Mumbling an apology, Ian urged his friend to continue. "Why would that old bastard choose to acknowledge me now when he's ignored my existence for years?"

  "I believe you'd have to ask him." "Perhaps I will, for I was quite content to leave things the way they were—with each of us despising the other."

  Peter leveled a solemn look at him. "You claim to despise the duke, but you can't deny that he's been your motivation to succeed."

  "Only because I wanted to prove to him that all of his money and title meant less than nothing to me," Ian exclaimed.

  "Oh, I know that," Peter said, lifting a shoulder. "But even you have to admit that you wouldn't have achieved all that you have if not for him."

  Ian's head was beginning to pound. "I don't want anything to do with the man or his titles," he ground out fiercely. "All my life I've only wanted to prove to him that I didn't need him."

  "I know that as well, Ian, but perhaps that's the whole point," Peter said quietly. "While you might not need him, he needs you."

  Shaking his head, Ian rejected the idea. "Preposterous. He needs me like he needs a boil upon his backside."

  Before Peter could utter another word, Ian turned on his heel and strode from the room.

  Head down, Ian hurried down the hall, needing to get outside, free from ...

  "Umph."

  Instinctively, Ian reached out to steady the woman he'd run into in his rush to escape the room.

  Ah, Madam Zora. The perfect distraction.

  * * *

  "Ian!" gasped Alyssa as she tried to regain her balance, releasing her satchel to grab onto his arm.

  Ian's smile was slight and intimate. "I see we've finally gotten past the Mr. Fortune stage."

  "No ... yes ... You startled me." Praying she didn't look as flushed as she suddenly felt, Alyssa stepped back. "I just finished telling fortunes in the parlor and am on my way home."

  "On your way home so soon? I only just arrived a short while ago; I'd have made an appearance sooner had I known you were here this evening," Ian admitted.

  "Well, now you know. So if you'll excuse me..."

  Bending down, Ian retrieved her colorful bag. "Allow me to walk you out."

  "That's not necessary," she protested.

  "Shall we stand here arguing over the issuer He shrugged lightly. "I've nothing better to do this evening, so I'm perfectly willing to indulge you."

  Having run up against his stubbornness before, Alyssa was well aware that he would indeed argue the point, then do precisely what he wanted anyway. Even when she'd been dressed as a proper widow, he'd been fust as bullheaded. Still, she'd been charmed by his kindness to her sister and his sharp wit. What was the harm in allowing him to escort her outside?

  Without another word of protest, she let him lead her down the hall, through the kitchens, and out the servant's entrance. All the while she was aware of the Covingtons' servants staring at them in amazement, though they were all too well-trained to utter a word.

  The moment the darkness of night engulfed them in its shadows, Alyssa paused, waiting until Ian drew even with her, "I vow the Covingtons' servants shall be discussing our departure this evening."

  "Oh, I'm quite certain they would be able to find juicier gossip if they tried," Ian said, dismissing the idea. "In feet, I'm positive of that feet."

  The bitterness in his voice arrested her attention, drawing her in despite her best intentions. "Ian?" she asked softly, placing a hand upon his arm. "Is everything all right?"

  Turning his head, Ian stared out into the moonlit gardens. "All right? Now there's a question."

  Keeping her eyes firmly fixed upon his profile, Alyssa forgot about her vow to maintain her distance from this man. "Come now, you can tell Madam Zora all."

  "Ah, yes, the all-powerful, all-knowing Madam Zora." Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, Ian trailed his fingers down her cheek. "You have no idea how lucky you are, Zora. With command of your own destiny, you carve a place for yourself in society. I thought I'd done that as well, but I've found that I can't run from my past."

  "No one can, Ian," she said softly. "My present is defined and sculpted by my past just as much as yours is. What you must do is learn to accept what your life has become."

  "Simply accept my fate?" Ian shook his head. "I don't know if I can do that."

  "If you can't, then you will never find peace in your present-day life." She took a deep breath before suggesting, "Perhaps you should meet with your grandfather to talk about... your future."

  His gaze sharpened upon her face. "How do you know about the duke?" But before she could reply, he answered his own quest
ion. "Then again, how could you not? The news is probably on everyone's tongue this evening. Bloody Lord Dorset."

  "I take it you're not pleased with the title."

  His lips twisted into a grimace. "No, Zora. I am definitely not pleased."

  "Then you should speak to your grandfather about it," she said firmly.

  "Speak to him?" Ian appeared incredulous.

  "How else are you ever going to sort out your past?"

  Reaching out a finger, he tipped her chin upward. "I fear, madam, that my past is far too tangled to ever sort out."

  Her heart tightened, yet she forced a saucy smile onto her face. "Would you like me to cast a spell for you and unwind the whole mess, then?"

  Ian's laugh rewarded her efforts. "If only you could," he said after a moment.

  "Ah, forever doubting the power of the great Madam Zora," Alyssa lamented as she gazed up into his face.

  Ian brushed back a strand of her hair. "I've suddenly realized I've been mistaken about your abilities. You certainly have a magical way to ease my troubled thoughts."

  "With little effort," she added, glad that she'd been able to comfort him with her teasing. "My powers are far greater than that."

  Slowly, the smile slipped from Ian's features as he gazed down at her. "I fear you might be telling the truth after all." His head began to dip toward her "Lord knows, you've bewitched me." And in the next instant his lips claimed hers.

  Softly, he brushed his mouth over hers, gently sip-ping at the edges of her lip. Breathlessly, she parted her lips, wanting more, aching for him to continue. His breath feathered over her, strengthening the air of passion between them.

  A moan reverberated deep in her throat as his fingers tightened upon her nape and his mouth sealed hers with desire. The taste of him intoxicated her and Alyssa pressed against his hardness.

  Slipping his tongue between her lips, Ian deepened the kiss into an erotic dance. Emotions surged within Alyssa as the onslaught of Ian's passion swept her away. In that instant, her world became Ian, the touch of him, the scent of him, the taste of him.

  Breaking off the kiss, Ian pressed sweet kisses along the line of her neck. "Zora, oh, Zora," he moaned against her skin an instant before he reclaimed her mouth.

  Zora.

  The name jarred inside of her, making her remember who she was, who he was. Remorse filled her, yet she managed to pull away from him, wrenching herself from Ian's arms.

  "We can't," she murmured, pressing the back of her hands to her lips. "We can't."

  "Zora," Ian began, taking a step toward her with an outstretched hand. As a servant exited from the rear door of the Covingtons' townhouse, slamming the door shut behind him, Ian dropped his hand to his side. "No, you're perfectly correct. We can't. Not here."

  But that wasn't what she meant. Alyssa trembled inside as she held back her explanation. When Ian held her in his arms, she forgot that to the world, to Ian, she was Madam Zora—fortuneteller, Gypsy, nomad. Because when he kissed her, he made her feel like Lady Alyssa Porter once more, like a young girl filled with dreams of love and marriage.

  But those days were gone... and it was best that she remember that fact.

  "I must go home," she murmured, reaching out to take hold of her bag.

  "Do you have a carriage waiting?"

  "No, but I'm well accustomed to walking."

  Shaking his head, Ian cupped his hand around her elbow and guided her out to the Covingtons' stables. "While that may be true, you won't be walking this evening."

  Ordering his carriage brought around, Ian waited with her as the servants hurried to do his bidding. This truly isn't necessary," she protested.

  But Ian would hear none of it. "I don't want you to walk through these streets alone at night." Glancing down at her, he added, "I'd see you home myself, but I doubt if you'd allow that. You guard your secrets very carefully, Zora."

  Indeed she did. If only she'd been as careful with her heart. She looked away quickly in case her thoughts showed on her face.

  As if she were a gentle-born lady, Ian handed her up into the carriage and waited until she had settled upon the seat. "Perhaps someday you'll allow me to share a few of your secrets," he said softly.

  Remaining silent, she gave Ian a smile as he shut the door and ordered the carriage away. As she stared at the gaily dressed lords and ladies receding from view, Alyssa realized that though she might weave dreams around Ian, any hope of a reality with him would remain forever out of reach. She was no longer one of the ton; she was, now and forever, Madam Zora.

  Pressing her hands to her stomach, Alyssa tried to force back the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake her at that thought. Tonight, she'd learned a valuable lesson. Mr. Ian Fortune threatened far more than her source of income.

  He had the power to wound her heart.

  8

  Donning the dreadful black outfit was worth the discomfort, Alyssa decided, when she caught sight of Ian striding toward the blanket where she sat near the pond and watched Calla feed the geese. Though she'd never intended to venture into Hyde Park as Lady Greenald again, she hadn't been able to resist. Indeed, she'd tried to talk herself out of coming to this particular park, but had foiled miserably.

  Her heart pounded within her breast as he smiled and waved a greeting. Trying to act calm despite the memories of their moonlight kiss, she waved back.

  "What a delightful surprise," Ian commented as he came to a stop at the edge of the blanket. Nodding toward Calla, who tossed bread crumbs out to the geese, he chuckled softly. "Lady Calla seems to be enjoying herself."

  "She most certainly is," Alyssa agreed, knowing it was true. Because of their circumstances, Calla enjoyed far too little of these simple childhood pleasures.

  "Might I join you, Lady Greenald?" Ian inquired politely.

  Gesturing to the blanket, Alyssa issued an invitation, wondering all the white how she could sound so formal when her very breath was lodged in her throat. "Please do."

  "I wondered if I might see you here today," Ian admitted.

  A flush of pleasure warmed her face... until she realized Lady Oreenald was simply another part she played. As Alyssa Porter, she had no hope for a future with him. Not now. Not since she'd donned Gypsy garb. "Did you wish to see me for any particular reason?" she asked calmly.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact. I wondered if you and your sister might be my dinner companions this evening."

  For a moment, she could only stare at him speech-less. Finally, she managed to ask, "Pardon me?"

  "Dinner. This evening," he repeated slowly as if she were hard of hearing. "I thought it might be enjoyable if you joined me—"

  "I can't... we can't," she said, abruptly rising to her feet. "Calla! We'd best be on our way." Bending down, she tugged at the blanket, knocking Ian off balance, tumbling him onto the grass. "So sorry," she murmured in the sweetest voice she could manage. To think he'd kissed her... or rather Zora, then invited her... as Lady Greenald to dinner the very next day infuriated her.

  She knew she had no future with Ian, but she certainly expected better of him!

  As soon as Calla ran up, Alyssa grabbed hold of her sister's arm. "We need to hurry home."

  "But why?" Calla asked, before automatically shifting her attention onto Ian. "Good day, Mr. Fortune. Did you see the geese—"

  "Now, Calla." Offering Ian nothing more than a frosty nod, she folded her blanket against her chest. "Farewell, Mr. Fortune."

  * * *

  What the devil had just happened?

  Try as he might to sort through his conversation with Lady Greenald, he couldn't imagine what he'd said or done that would evoke such an unpleasant response. One moment the woman was warm and pleasant, yet the very next she was practically spitting her words at him.

  Why would the invitation to dine with him cause such a reaction? It was beyond Ian's comprehension. After all, he'd been polite and decorous when he'd in-vited her. Nothing that should have rattled. Lady Greenald
.

  Now, if she'd been privy to his private thoughts, that might have been an entirely different matter.

  It was highly doubtful that the lady would have appreciated being used to overcome thoughts of an all too enticing Gypsy. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Ian thought back on the restless night he'd had. The sweetness of Zora's lips had haunted him, the image of her in the moonlight had burned in his mind, and the feel of her pressed against him had made him hunger for more, making it impossible to sleep.

  What he'd told Zora last night had been nothing less than the truth. He'd tried to put her out of his mind, but something about her—her lively spirit, her intriguing secrets, her captivating wit—struck a chord deep inside of him.

  Last night when he'd been torn by his grandfa... no, by Lord Hammond's pronouncement, Ian had found solace in Zora's embrace. Still, in the harsh morning light, he was uncertain if he could so easily abandon his dreams in exchange for an infatuation with a fortuneteller.

  Indecision had driven him from his home in search of the charming widow. Silly, he knew, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  And all he'd gotten for his efforts had been a blatant snub, leading him back to his original question.

  What the devil had happened to cause Lady Greenald to become so upset?

  Or better asked, why did it happen? Perhaps she'd thought him too bold for inviting a widow still in mourning to dine with him. He hoped he hadn't upset her too much as he certainly wouldn't want to add to her hardships. Her life couldn't be easy, what with her lack of funds and raising a younger sister.

  Rising, Ian brushed off his pants and took off with new purpose. He would call upon the current Earl of Tonneson immediately to ensure that the ladies received adequate funds in the future. Glancing down, Ian caught sight of his grass-stained pants.

  All right, then, Ian amended, he would head over to the earl's residence ... directly after he changed his clothes.