Lady Isabella's Splendid Folly: a Fortune's of Fate story (Fortunes of Fate Book 7)

by Sandra Sookoo

  Peregrine shook his head. “Can I take that chance?” The wounds from his failed marriage were still fresh even though it had ended three years before. A man didn’t overcome such pain so quickly.

  “Do you want to?” Jensen landed his unflinching gaze upon him. “If you really took stock of what you want from this life, if you’re honest with yourself, is wooing a lady, possibly taking another wife, part of that future?”

  “I’m not certain.” He frowned. “It requires much thought.”

  “Thought which means you’ll sit, brooding, in front of your fire in the study, doing nothing much at all.” The valet shrugged. “The only way to know what you want, or if the lady is for you, is to pursue her.”

  A sound akin to a growl escaped Peregrine’s throat. “As I said before, I will give it some thought. That’s the best I can do.” Again, the memory of that kiss with Lady Isabella bubbled to the forefront of his mind. Heat crept up the back of his neck. He might not wish for a courtship, but he wouldn’t mind another round of kissing. “In the meantime, I plan to go riding this morning now that the rain has cleared.”

  An hour or so later, Peregrine slowed his horse to a trot after a rather vigorous run through meadows and fields. He’d let Ares have his head, and they’d both flown through the countryside with abandon. Perhaps there were some things the country provided that London could not after all.

  As he leaned over to stroke the animal’s neck, movement far down the dirt-packed country lane distracted him. “What have we here?” he asked the horse, but of course received no answer in reply. Straightening in the saddle, Peregrine shaded his eyes with a hand and peered down the road. “My, my, how fortunate indeed. Look, Ares, it’s Lady Isabella.” The pale yellow of her skirts fluttered in the slight breeze, and she looked for all the world like spring personified.

  The horse blew out a breath and didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

  “Let us offer assistance.” Slowing the steed into a walk, he soon caught up with the lady. “Ho, there, Lady Isabella. Good morning.” When she stopped and glanced over her shoulder at him, he continued. “Do you need a ride, my lady? Going or coming from the village?”

  “Why, so you can try to kill me while I’m on horseback this time?” She cocked an eyebrow, the affect lost to the wide brim of her bonnet that was decorated with cheerful yellow and white daises. The same flowers were embroidered along the hem of her gown.

  “Hardly.” Heat crept up the back of his neck that had nothing to do with the mid-morning sun. He tightened the reins in his hands until Ares tossed his head and Peregrine relaxed. “It is merely a ride I’m offering. I promise to act the gentleman.”

  But would she act the lady?

  “Hmm.” She glanced at him for long moments, her indigo gaze moving over the length of him in careful study. What the devil was she searching for, and why did he hope that she found whatever she sought in him? Finally, she nodded. “All right, then. I accept.”

  “Capital.”

  “I had thought to go to the village, but now I think I’ll just go home.”

  “Fair enough.” He offered her a hand. “Will this be sufficient or shall I dismount and toss you into the saddle?”

  The expression on her face was withering and made him doubt his own intelligence. “This is fine.” The moment she slipped her hand into his, he tugged her upward with only a bit of a strain. When he assumed she’d arrange herself with her legs to the side, she went astride and sat in front of him on the saddle regardless that her skirts hiked upward showing shapely ankles, calves and knees encased in white silk stockings. “Lud, but it’s been a long time indeed since I’ve ridden.”

  When Ares danced in place, not used to the additional weight or a female to boot, Peregrine gripped the reins tighter while he adapted to having her so close. Those legs were quite distracting and quite lovely, but the warmth of her against his chest and between his arms as he settled them to either side of her body demanded his immediate attention.

  “Do you enjoy riding?” he asked, for everything else he’d wished to say flew right out of his brain when he caught the scent of orange blossoms that clung to her.

  “It is a means to convey oneself between locations, but as a general rule, I don’t enjoy it as a recreation. Although, your horse is lovely.”

  “His name is Ares.”

  “Ah, named after the God of War. Very telling.”

  “How so?”

  “Perhaps you think to overcompensate for something in your life by naming your horse with such a strong moniker. Or perhaps you are weak when it comes to what’s between your legs, for your steed doesn’t denote strength or any war-like tendencies. In short, he is quite ordinary.”

  “As am I.” Did the lady just disparage his manhood instead of his horse? Difficult to tell. Another bout of heat went up the back of his neck. “There is no over compensation for anything. In fact, he came to me with that name, so I have nothing to worry about.

  “I see. All the same, it’s interesting.” She twisted in the saddle and shot him a grin that brimmed with all manner of wicked things. “Of course, I’ll ask that you drop me at the drive leading to my house. It won’t do for my parents to see that I’m the hoyden they fear.”

  He softly clicked his tongue and set them into motion. “Is that a bad thing, then?”

  “It is for an earl’s daughter, though I cannot understand why they want to crush the spirit from me.”

  “Do you live under strict scrutiny?” It was all he could do to concentrate on the conversation when she was a warm armful that brushed against him with each movement from the horse. It was much like holding a barn cat. At any moment she could go feral and scratch out his eyes, but she was so nice and soft that he had to risk holding onto her anyway. If he were lucky, would she purr for him?

  Where the devil did that thought come from?

  “Not overly much, but my mother is forever reminding me that men will overlook me if I show too many opinions or enthusiasms for things not mandated by the ton. That sort of life sounds rather too boring for me.” She shrugged. “I’m of an age that such admonitions don’t bother me anymore.”

  “As if you’re so ancient.” He chuckled and breathed in another waft of her delicate scent. “There is a certain amount of comfort knowing you can be who you’re meant to be without worry about what everyone around you thinks.”

  “Yes, quite,” she murmured with her face forward once more, and with the bonnet, she was effectively hidden from him. “I fought against the fact that I’m different a few years back. Then, with my birthday this year, I accepted myself and all my flaws. Different doesn’t mean bad or unlikable, which is one of the reasons I’m happy to remain unwed.”

  “Due to your perceived differences which you think make you unwanted?”

  “Perhaps.” She tilted her head to one side but didn’t look at him. “However, it’s not so much my differences as the fact that the suitors I’m presented with have nothing to recommend themselves to me.”

  “Pockets to let, paunchy in the gut, breath stinks of garlic?” he couldn’t help teasing.

  She uttered an unladylike snort. “In some cases, yes to all three. More often than not, though, the men were boring and pompous. They talked much of the time, wouldn’t let me expound my views on a topic, and quite frankly, I waited for them to pat me on the head as if I were a dog and send me on my way.”

  “Sounds horrible.” He felt for her and all ladies in the ton. Where matches were encouraged based on position, wealth and connections, where did that leave affection, respect, and love? “From the way you talk, I’m glad I do not move in such circles.” For if he’d witnessed such behavior in a parlor full of buffoons, he’d want to land some of them facers for the treatment.

  “More’s the pity. If you did, at least the conversation would thrill.”

  His pulse beat a bit faster from her compliment. “Thank you.” Silence stretched between them as they traveled the lonel
y stretch of country lane. Eventually, he needed to hear her voice again. “I’m afraid I must apologize yet again.” It wasn’t the worst line, but it wasn’t the best either.

  “Then why keep on with it? You aren’t accomplished in the skill.”

  So much cheek in her. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I know. I’m a proper failure at many things, and all of them are being highlighted for me ever since I moved to Buckinghamshire.” He internally gawked at himself. Why the deuce had he uttered such an admission?

  The lady chuckled, and he reveled in the pleasing sound. It was refreshing after being at odds with her. “You were good at sea?”

  “Yes.” Peregrine straightened his spine, which brought his arms tighter into her ribs. “I adored being a sea captain, of having total control and mastery over every portion of the ship, of fielding threats from pirates or the many moods of the sea itself. Never was there a dull moment, and I can assure you I didn’t waste time rusticating.”

  “Ah, you were a man of action.” This time, she turned her head and caught his gaze beyond the wide edge of her bonnet. “It seems you still are, for you haven’t gone to fat.”

  By willpower alone, he fought off the heat in his face. So she’d noticed his figure, had she? Interesting. “I enjoy exercise.”

  She smiled and her eyelashes fluttered downward. “What was the name of your ship?”

  “The HMS Valiant.” His chest tightened from missing the ship and the life it represented—the freedom. “There is nothing quite like standing at the railing, with the wind rifling through my hair, the salty spray of the sea on my lips, guiding my ship toward the horizon merely to follow the sun, chase down pirates who think to steal coin from England.”

  “It sounds like jolly fun.”

  “Quite right.”

  The lady glanced at him before facing the front once more. “I can only imagine how dashing you looked in your naval uniform.”

  Peregrine heaved a sigh. “Damn, but I miss it still. Pardon the language.”

  “No need. When I’m alone, I indulge in cursing. It’s quite satisfying.” Was it his imagination or did she briefly pat his hand? “Why did you retire? I would have thought a man of your stature and vitality would continue to do what he loved into his dotage.”

  “Doing it a bit too thick, aren’t you?” he whispered with his lips close to her nape since he couldn’t reach her ear due to the headgear. “Too many more compliments and a man’s head will swell.”

  “Now that sounds like a rather painful problem to have,” she said in a whisper that matched his own. She turned her head but he only saw the curve of her cheek. “Might be difficult to relieve such… pressure without privacy.”

  The tart-mouthed chit was walking the line of innuendo, and with such ease. Just who was Lady Isabella when no one was looking? Peregrine cleared his throat. “Indeed.”

  “Now, back to the matter at hand.” She snickered. “Why did you retire?”

  “Injury kept me from being able to navigate the decks and ladders, or keep my footing in turbulent waters.” Admitting a weakness before this extraordinary woman humbled him and brought out a frown. Would she think less of him?

  “Perhaps a smaller ship, then. No need to give up the sea for something as pedestrian as an injury, for it must not be critical if it’s hidden.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Will you tell me where your injury is?”

  “My left thigh. Note the cane.” He tapped the silver-headed implement strapped to his pommel and currently residing against her leg.

  She nodded. “Now you have traded the glories of the sea for Buckinghamshire.”

  “Yes.” They’d reached a fork in the country lane. One branch would lead to her manor house. “Are you of a mind to go home, my lady?” Icy fingers of sadness played his spine. It had been amusing talking with her.

  “No.” She twisted in front of him and caught his gaze. Mischief twinkled in her violet eyes. “Keep on, Captain.”

  He nodded and urged Ares into motion once more. “Please, call me Peregrine.”

  “Only if you refer to me as Isabella.” Her lips curved into a genuine smile that kicked up his pulse. “Close friends call me Izzy.”

  “Ah, but that is an affront to your name, which is lovely and stately.”

  A hint of a blush stained the curve of her cheek. “I am rather fond of my name.” She tilted her head up and regarded him. “Tell me of your travels. It must have been so exciting.” A sigh escaped her. “I’ve been exactly nowhere.”

  “Oh, the places I’ve seen would astound your mind, but those are stories for another time.” Peregrine adjusted his hold on the reins and in doing so was able to brush his fingers along her ribcage. Her tiny intake of breath made him grin. Perhaps it would be nice to have a traveling companion, someone eager to see the world and explore the forgotten places in it. “Perhaps I shall tell you of my journeys this summer.”

  It would give him an excuse to see her again.

  “I would like that, but please promise me you won’t exclude the blood and gore from them. That’s what gives stories their nuance.”

  “Agreed.”

  An easy silence fell between them. Their bodies swayed together with the movement of the horse. He wished she weren’t wearing the dratted bonnet, for it shielded her from him, preventing him from reading the emotions in her face and eyes. The heat of the sun, the curves of her body pressed against his, the gentle buzz of insects in the meadows all worked to weave a certain magic around him he was loathe to break.

  All too soon they reached the fork in the road once more. “I must take you home. Your family will wonder what has become of you.”

  Isabella stirred and once more twisted so their gazes connected. “By the by, what did you wish to apologize for?”

  “Kissing you in the book shop. It wasn’t well done of me.”

  A wicked gleam flashed in her eyes, but when she blinked, it was gone. “I’m not.”

  “You’re not what?”

  “Not sorry for your kiss or my own. Or even for this.” She grabbed hold of his cravat and swiftly surged upward, claiming his lips in a brief but oh so confident kiss. When she settled back into the saddle, he was obliged to shift to accommodate his shaft that had twitched awake. “I’d rather like to repeat such a thing again soon, when we’re not on horseback. One never knows what delights one can find in a kiss, don’t you think?”

  Not waiting for his reply, Isabella slipped from the saddle and gave him a cheery wave.

  Like the bacon-brained idiot that he was, Peregrine lifted a hand and waved back. “Shall I see you again?”

  “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” With that, she started off down the lane.

  I’ll be damned. He clicked his tongue and spurred Ares into a run down the opposite fork that would lead to his home.

  Chapter Eight

  June 4, 1818

  Isabella finished her breakfast with haste as a sauce and gusto as a flavoring. If she’d had her way, she wouldn’t have paused to even eat, for a cup of tea would have sufficed. She had plans for her day and she didn’t wish something as uneventful as eating to delay it.

  Her great bear of a father—broad shoulders, dark hair, flashing blue eyes and booming voice—seated across the table from her, eyed her near-empty plate with a frown. “Such a rush this morning, Izzy.” A hint of admonition threaded through his voice as he unfolded a copy of The Times. “What is the hurry? You normally linger over your meal.” He lifted an eyebrow. “And you always have seconds. Are you unwell?”

  Drat him for being so observant.

  Her mother—delicate where her father was strong, with blonde hair and violet eyes—nodded. “You’ve had high color for a few days. Perhaps you should rest in bed today to head off potential sickness. A summer head cold is absolutely a miserable thing.”

  A pox on having pale skin that showed any change of emotion.

  Both of her sisters stared at her.
Isabella strove for an expression of nonchalance. “No reason, Papa. I was merely hungry.”

  “Then have another cup of tea and sit a spell with us,” he responded with a robust smile as he tucked into his own loaded plate.

  She glanced at the window and then back to him. “I’d rather not. The sun is shining, so I’m of a mind to walk this morning. I’ve found the cooler temperatures before noon to be stimulating.”

  Louisa snorted. “You walked yesterday, said you were going to the village for shopping, but you came home rather flushed and without any evidence of such.”

  Had her family always scrutinized her movements so carefully, or did they not have enough to occupy them in the country? She pulled a face at her sister. “Those were my plans, yes. However, I decided not to go into the village in favor of meandering through the countryside. It’s quite beautiful out here.”

  Her father nodded. “Yes, a daily constitutional is just the ticket.” He speared a sausage with his fork. “Perhaps I’ll join you. Been an age since I toured the acreage.”

  Perish the thought. That wasn’t conducive to her plans. Not at all. Isabella quickly cleared her throat. “Actually, Papa, I’d rather be alone. With my thoughts.”

  “I see.” But he frowned and looked at her mother with a shrug.

  Isabella was quite certain he didn’t, for if he knew what she was about, he’d lock her in her bedroom.

  “That settles it,” Mariana interjected. She narrowed her eyes from across the table. “You’re coming down with something, I just know it. And I don’t want you to contaminate me before our Venetian breakfast. Lord Albert has promised to come, and I do wish to spend the day with him.”

  By sheer willpower, Isabella kept herself from rolling her eyes. Lord Albert of the thinning hair and lax in intelligence, to say nothing of his wish to use Mariana’s dowry to fix up his townhouse. But if her sister had a connection with him, she was welcome to him. Perhaps love did that to a person. Made them blind to a person’s faults. Still, she couldn’t help a shudder.