Lord Castleford's Fortunate Folly (Fortunes 0f Fate Book 2)

by Tabetha Waite

  She closed her eyes. Deep breaths…

  She had never been a fan of thunderstorms, and considering that her nerves were already frayed just thinking of being around Lord Castleford again, she wasn’t sure how much more she could endure, but endure it she must — for her father.

  Little did her family know that she would return home that evening and climb into the comforts of her bed — only to dream about him all night long, her body hot and fevered with the wicked thoughts that swirled in her mind.

  She collapsed back against the squabs of the carriage seat. Why, oh why, did Lord Castleford have to come to this deserted part of England and disrupt her entire life? She had been perfectly content before he arrived. She had a daily routine and things moved along smoothly, according to plan. She enjoyed tending to her garden and going to the market. One day she thought she might even marry a nice boy from the village, although no one had struck her fancy as yet.

  A man like Lord Castleford was unpredictable. He was a thief in the night, the sort who would seduce her virtue from beneath her, and then hie off to London without so much as a farewell.

  Fanny squared her shoulders. No matter what enticing things Lord Castleford made her feel inside, how much she might wish to explore these urges further — she must resist. If he damaged her reputation, it could ruin her entire family. If her sisters failed to make a suitable match because of her, then that was unacceptable. She wouldn’t doom them to a life of spinsterhood simply because she was curiously wanton about Lord Castleford.

  With her mind firmly set her on her course, Fanny stepped down from the carriage when it came to a stop.

  But the instant she glanced up, her carefully laid plans — along with her wits — promptly scattered like leaves in the wind.

  Lord Castleford appeared from around the side of the manor. He was clad in black boots and a pair of rather snug-fitting black trousers…but as Fanny’s gaze traveled upward, she found her focus halting on the shocking glimpse of broad chest with its smattering of black hair, visible between the expanse of his white, cambric shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the sinewy muscles in his forearms caused Fanny’s mouth to go dry.

  As he lifted his arm and wiped the sweat from his brow, he noticed her standing there. The grin he abruptly unleashed weakened her knees. “Is it that time already?”

  “I… it…” she stammered. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes.” She sounded like a ninny headed idiot. He was only a man after all. It wasn’t as if there weren’t an abundance of the opposite sex in the village.

  Then again, none of them looked quite like that.

  “Should I… come back tomorrow?” She started to turn back toward the carriage, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

  He waved a hand. “You’re already here. I’d hate for you to waste a trip. I’ll just get cleaned up and meet you in the ballroom in say, twenty minutes?”

  He started to leave.

  “What were you doing anyway?” She cursed the words the moment they left her mouth. It was none of her business, yet curiosity had always been one of her weaknesses.

  He turned back to her, a strand of dark hair falling over his forehead. “Would you like to see?”

  She lifted a brow and asked, “Do I want to?”

  His husky laugh rumbled through the space between them as he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Come on. Since you tend a garden of your own, I should think you could appreciate my recent endeavors. And honestly, I’d like to have another opinion besides that of Lady Marwood, who nearly waxes poetic over my efforts.”

  His hand was warm and a bit calloused as he led her toward the back of the manor. She imagined that a man like him would have been used to a leisurely sort of lifestyle, someone who gambled and drank at his club, whereas the most vigorous thing he did was pursue a coquettish light skirt.

  But as he stopped before a partially overgrown rose garden, Fanny had to retract her previous thought. While most of the area was still covered in dead vines and bushes from the winter season, the other half was starting to burst with colorful, healthy blooms, the air fragrant with the scent of fresh dirt and new life.

  Her mouth opened and closed several times before she turned to him in astonishment. “You did this?” she breathed.

  He was leaning against an arbor near the entrance to the garden, his arms crossed. “Don’t look so shocked,” he said with a snort. “I’m not a stranger to hard labor. I have toiled in the dirt as much as you have, I imagine.”

  Heat swept over Fanny’s face, but she covered her blunder by reaching out to touch the delicate petal of a nearby white rose. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “What made you decide to take on such a daunting task?”

  She turned back around to see him shrug. “Why not? Elliot’s gardener is nursing a case of the gout, so I offered to lend a hand. And it’s a way to repay Elliot for his hospitality.”

  “That is very kind of you,” Fanny said in all sincerity. “And I’m sure Mr. Reynolds is grateful for the help.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “You know the Marwood gardener?”

  “Of course,” Fanny returned, hating how prim her voice sounded. “We are a small parish. Polperro and Killigarth are neighbors. It’s only natural we should be acquainted with many of the residents.”

  His green eyes were intent on her face in the silence that followed her statement. Instantly, the air around them began to crackle with the same awareness from the day before. Fanny jumped as a crack of thunder, followed by a brilliant flash of white lit up the sky. “Shall we return to the house now?”

  Without waiting for him to reply, she lifted her skirts and practically sprinted in that direction, her heart pounding the entire way.

  And not just from the approaching storm.

  Chapter Five

  Jonathan was walking across the hall, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket, when a lilting melody stopped him mid-stride, the sound shooting straight to his groin. It wasn’t Mrs. Thomas playing a tune at the piano, but Miss Grouseman’s sweet laughter floating from inside the ballroom. On the heels of her merriment came the sound of another feminine voice, one he recognized as Lady Marwood’s, followed by a baby’s innocent giggles.

  Apparently, Fanny and little Conner had just met.

  Jonathan pictured her holding Elliot’s son in her arms, and for some reason the idea made him smile. But when he imagined her embracing their child — his throat suddenly grew tight, along with other parts of his anatomy.

  He shook his head, intending to push such dangerous thoughts out of his mind, but when he actually saw the reason for everyone’s merriment, he stopped in the doorframe of the ballroom and simply — stared.

  Evelyn was standing off to the side and smiling, while Fanny hummed a light tune and twirled Conner about the room. Her gown flowed about her legs as she swayed with a lithe grace that had been missing the day before. She might claim to have no sense of coordination when it came to dancing, but her movements now would suggest otherwise.

  She certainly entranced him.

  He was so fixed on Fanny that he didn’t notice when Evelyn sidled up next to him. “Miss Grouseman is a rather amazing woman, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Something in her tone compelled him to drag his eyes away from Fanny and glance at her. She attempted to appear innocent, but Jonathan knew Evelyn well enough that he caught the sly glimmer in her hazel eyes. While he had his own fantasies regarding Miss Grouseman, he didn’t need Elliot’s wife trying to play matchmaker.

  “Indeed,” he murmured, adopting an air of boredom.

  “Conner is quite taken with her,” Evelyn continued. “It’s obvious she has a natural motherly instinct. She would make a fine wife for some lucky man.”

  He clenched his jaw. “I’m sure she will, but marriage is not really my area of expertise, in case you’ve forgotten. I’m only teaching her to dance. I have no interest beyond that.”

  ***

  F
anny slowed her steps when she overheard Lord Castleford’s deep tones. At the mention of her name, she walked over to join him and Lady Marwood. However, the moment she caught his last statement, she wished she could sink into the floor.

  “I’m only teaching her to dance. I have no interest beyond that.”

  His gaze suddenly shifted to meet hers, and while she pasted on a smile and tried to pretend that his detached words hadn’t stung, she was hurt. It was silly, of course, for they were only passing acquaintances. She had known that all along. There would never be any sort of understanding between them, so there was no point in thinking otherwise.

  Besides, he was only speaking the truth so could she truly be upset with him for stating fact?

  “Are you ready to begin?” she asked a bit too brightly. “We’re already behind schedule, and I have much to do at home today.”

  Those green eyes studied her for a moment. “Of course.” He offered a light bow. “I wouldn’t wish to keep you here any longer than necessary.”

  Lady Marwood shot him a chiding glance but walked over to Fanny with a gentle expression. “I’ll send in Mrs. Thomas.” She took Conner from Fanny’s arms. “Let’s get you down for a nap, shall we?” she cooed to her son.

  After they departed, the air around Jonathan and Fanny began to swirl with the same intensity that had been present outside. She abruptly turned away from him and walked over to the row of windows, intending to shut him out until Mrs. Thomas arrived. She stared out at the perfectly manicured lawn, but at a sharp flash of lightning, followed by a loud blast of thunder that nearly shook the very foundation of the manor, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms protectively around herself.

  “The storm is getting closer.”

  Fanny hadn’t realized Jonathan had crossed the room, but now she could feel his heat seeping into her from behind as surely as if it was his arms that had caught her up in an embrace. “It is.”

  “Do you not like the rain?” he asked softly.

  She shook her head and opened her eyes.

  “Why not?”

  Fanny took a deep breath. She shouldn’t confide even this much of herself to him, considering he had made it abundantly clear that nothing would ever go further between them. But she found the words escaping from her lips. “When I was young, about five or six, my mother and I went into the village to take some soup to an elderly lady who was ill.”

  She swallowed, the memory of that day still frightening, even though she was old enough to put such childish fears aside. “On the way back, we got caught in a torrential downpour. Not only were we drenched, but lightning struck a tree, causing it to burst into flame and fall in our path. It narrowly missed us.” She rubbed her arms, feeling that terrible disquiet once again. “I’ve been scared of them ever since.”

  A gentle hand settled on her arm, as Lord Castleford turned her to face him. “Then perhaps I can help you forget.”

  She didn’t even have time to refuse before his head descended and he brushed her mouth with his.

  It was a light kiss, but the desire was instant. Just as the lightning had lit a flame to that tree so long ago, the spark of pleasure from Lord Castleford’s kiss shot all the way to Fanny’s toes, causing them to curl in her slippers. It was like everything she’d dreamed about — only so much more.

  As if she had no control over her actions, her hands lifted and she grasped the lapels of his jacket. In reply, he gave a sensual growl, and then grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against him. Pressed so close, she could feel every hard plane of his body. His heart beat in time with hers and the proof of his arousal pressed urgently against her midsection. The first, fat drops of rain splattered the glass, but Fanny was oblivious to the storm outside, as the one going on inside was much more intense.

  When his hand moved from her waist to brush against the underside of her breast, his thumb brushing her erect nipple through her stays, her breath hitched and she moaned lightly. She ought to push him away, but it felt so good…

  “Sorry I’m late!”

  Jonathan instantly released Fanny, spinning away from her with a muttered curse. Disoriented, Fanny reached out and grasped the windowsill in an effort to remain upright. Luckily, the housekeeper was too harried to take any notice of their state of dishabille. She took her place at the piano, and only after she was settled did she glance up and say brightly, “Shall I begin with the waltz today, my lord?”

  Jonathan clenched his jaw for a moment before he said evenly, “I think just a few country dances today, Mrs. Thomas.”

  The older woman nodded and began to riffle through the sheet music. He finally turned to Fanny and held a hand out to her. While he might appear unruffled on the outside, she noted the tight lines bracketing his mouth and the sensuous glitter in his eyes that suggested otherwise.

  She swallowed tightly as she set her trembling hand in his.

  God give her strength to make it through the day.

  ***

  For the next three days, Jonathan treated Fanny with the utmost politeness when she arrived and continued the same civility all throughout their lessons. He was the epitome of the perfect gentleman.

  He hated every minute of it.

  It was difficult to act as though nothing untoward had happened between them when he felt as though everything had changed. A mere sample of Miss Grouseman’s delights had only aroused his appetite for more. He dreamed of her every night, waking with the sheets twisted around him, his breathing heavy, and an aching in his groin that had him clenching his fists.

  But it was when she appeared in person that the true struggle for self-control began.

  Every time she walked into the ballroom, her presence chipped away at his restraint. When he held her in his arms for the waltz, all he could think about was dragging her into the nearest room and having his wicked way with her. He was starting to wonder if he wasn’t slowly descending into madness. Either that or the fortune teller wasn’t the only one who had bewitched his mind.

  Fanny walked into the ballroom this morning, and Jonathan nearly groaned aloud. It was as if she were tormenting him on purpose. She wore her hair in the usual chignon that he detested, for he wanted nothing more than to see that dark hair down about her shoulders — and preferably spread across his sheets — but instead of the usual serviceable brown or gray dress, today she had donned a lovely pale yellow that accented her dark eyes and that delectable creamy skin. The high waist hugged her breasts perfectly and the lower cut neckline teased him with the slight crease between the swells.

  As his gaze fixed on that spot, Jonathan was quite sure he’d just slipped into the seventh circle of hell. “Good day, Miss Grouseman.” Dear God, did my voice just break? He cleared his throat and asked brusquely, “Shall we begin?”

  He nodded to Mrs. Thomas, who set her hands upon the keys. He closed his eyes temporarily as she began to play. Blast. Of course, they had to begin with the waltz.

  As Jonathan pulled Fanny into the circle of his arms, her forehead crinkled slightly. Then again, he was standing rather stiffly and holding her as far away from him as possible. No doubt his face also mirrored the discomfort from his cock.

  “Have I done something to upset you?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Of course not. Why do you ask?” Wonderful. I sound like a fucking prude.

  She shrugged lightly, nibbling her lip in that adorable manner. “It’s only that after…” Her words faltered, along with her footsteps. “You’ve seemed a bit… distant toward me,” she finished.

  “Have I?” He adopted a puzzled frown, hating himself even further. “In that case, I apologize. Rest assured that hasn’t been my intention.” His eyes roamed over her face, and suddenly the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I’d like to take you somewhere tomorrow.”

  Her dark eyes widened. “What about our dance lessons?”

  He shrugged in an effort to appear nonchalant, when inside his blood was pumping wildly through
his veins. “I don’t imagine one day will make much difference. Besides, you are improving.”

  “Do you think so?”

  While Jonathan could have kicked himself for daring to test his resistance by spending an entire day with her, as Fanny’s eyes lit up hopefully, he found that he really couldn’t deny her anything she wanted. “You have my word as a gentleman,” he said softly.

  ***

  Fanny’s heart was beating so rapidly, she was sure Lord Castleford could feel it — or perhaps even hear it as it thumped inside of her chest.

  After that amazing kiss, she had been in such a daze of late that Agnes had gone so far as to ask if she was feeling well. Even after her continued reassurances that she was perfectly fine, Fanny knew that was only a half-truth. But at least she had been given a reprieve from her youngest sister’s curious glances, for her middle-sister, Lilah, had returned home earlier that week, thus diverting Agnes’ attention.

  Unfortunately, it had only been temporary.

  Once Lilah had learned of Fanny’s dancing lessons with the handsome Lord Castleford, it was she who had suggested a change in Fanny’s wardrobe, saying that if she was attending the son of an earl then she should dress like a guest, and not as one of the servants. Her logic was so sound that Fanny couldn’t really disagree with her.

  But the moment she had walked into the ballroom, and that caressing green gaze had assessed her with silent approval, she had felt a bit lightheaded — and rather foolish.

  Of course, Fanny had no illusions when it came to Lord Castleford, for she had not forgotten what he’d said — that he wasn’t interested in anything more than a few dance lessons. He was a rake through and through, and once his business was finished here, he would return to London and never give her a second thought. She knew that she was only a diversion to pass the time.

  And yet…

  With that wickedly, sensuous tilt to his mouth, she couldn’t help but be captivated by his presence. Not only was Lord Castleford absurdly handsome but he was the most interesting thing to happen in this small village — or to her — in quite some time. Perhaps ever. She kept telling herself that as long as she didn’t cross that line of propriety, what was the harm in a bit of casual flirtation? If nothing else, she could enjoy his company for as long as it lasted.