* * *
From the corner of the darkened hallway, Ian watched the little Gypsy bundle up her crystal ball and scurry from the Covingtons' home like the devil himself was after her. He smothered a chuckle as he realized that in her mind, he was the devil.
Heading toward the study to join the other men for a brandy and cigar, Ian felt his irritation toward the arrogant Gypsy fade away only to be replaced by the heady sensation of anticipation. He couldn't wait to see her next move... even if it meant being stung by her remarks on occasion. Indeed, his clever Gypsy had an uncanny knack for sneaking under his guard, though it placated him to realize that he annoyed her just as much. No other conclusion could be drawn from her sharp, attacking response.
Of course she'd attacked him. What else did he think she would do? Acknowledge that she was a liar? Hardly, he thought as he stepped into the study. No, he'd enjoy toying with her a bit, but he wouldn't be the one to expose her.
"Ian," hailed Peter from across the room, waving him over to the group.
Pausing only to pour himself a brandy, Ian joined his friend.
"Did you speak with Madam Zora?" Peter asked, his eyes bright. "So? What did she say when you apologized? I'll wager she was stunned."
"You could put it that way."
"Details, old boy. I want details."
"Sorry, old boy," Ian murmured with a grin. There's really nothing to tell other than the tact that my apology did indeed take her by surprise."
Rolling his eyes, Peter settled back. "You're getting to be no fun at all," he complained lightly. "Luckily for you, however, I find it hard to get too perturbed at your staid behavior."
'To what do I owe this good fortune?"
"You should have asked me to whom do you owe this good fortune," Peter lifted his brandy glass in a salute. "Because my present state of mind is due to a bit of advice I received from your lady herself."
"My lady?' Ian broke off as the answer hit him. "Ah, yes, the dear Madam Zora. Fortune's Lady."
"Indeed," Peter agreed. "Your lady told me that I should invest deeply in that saltwater gold mining company."
Ian choked on his brandy. "She did what?"
"She advised me that I should follow my heart and invest in the gold mining company like I wanted to... despite your advice to pass on the opportunity."
"And you're going to take the advice of a for-tuneteller over my sound business recommendation?" Shaking his head, Ian reached out to place a hand upon his friend's shoulder. "You can't think to invest what little funds you have remaining into a scam like mining gold from saltwater."
"Just because I made a few poor investments over the past few years doesn't mean I'm incapable of making my own business decisions," Peter said, shaking Ian's hand loose. "I know in my gut that this is the right thing for me to do and your Gypsy confirmed it. She told me I had to follow my heart."
"Good God, Peter. She probably told five different people they needed to follow their heart." Thrusting a hand through his hair, Ian struggled to contain his frustration. "Trust me when I tell you the Electrolytic Marine Mining Company is not a good investment. If you'd like, I can take a portion of your funds and—
Setting down his brandy snifter, Peter cut Ian off cold. "That's enough, Ian! Do you realize that I sought Madam Zora's advice in the first place because of you? Ever since a few of my investments failed, I started to believe you when you said I didn't have a head for business, even though I have always believed that I can manage my estate quite admirably. Everyone stumbles, Ian."
"That's true," Ian agreed, placing his hand on Peter's shoulder, "but if you stumble once more, Peter, you stand to lose everything."
"I know, but this time I won't fail." Peter's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Don't you see, Ian? Madam Zora gave the same advice to Lord Allerby and he's told everyone he's done quite well with Electrolytic Marine Mining Company. Then there's Lord Hather, who followed Madam Zora's urging and he's made money with the saltwater mining as well." He grinned broadly. "Now, Madam Zora told me to be-lieve in myself, to follow my heart, so I know I won't fail this time."
Peter's unshakable confidence in Madam Zora chilled Ian. He'd failed to realize how influential the Gypsy had become. She did possess power, after all— the power to alter people's lives. "Peter, you must be reasonable. What do we know about Madam Zora? Where did she come from? Who is she? I can tell you she's nothing more than a charlatan. You can't possibly risk your future on her advice." Ian tightened his grasp upon Peter. "It would be madness."
Shaking off Ian's hold, Peter took a step back. "Do you honestly think it would be madness to believe in someone who has already proven her ability to see into the future? No, Ian, it would be madness not to follow her advice."
"Come now, Peter, you know that those gents got lucky—"
"—and so will I."
Frustration rolled through Ian. "Perhaps you will, Peter, but you can't afford to take that risk. Now if you put your funds into—"
Lifting his hand, Peter cut off Ian. "I can handle my own affairs, thank you very much."
Before Ian could say another word, Peter turned on his heel and walked away. "Bloody hell," Ian muttered, before taking a gulp of his brandy.
He'd thought the little Gypsy was handing out harmless advice, but now he realized he'd been wrong. Her prediction for Peter, regardless of how vague, could ruin him financially... if he followed his interpretation of her advice. Ian knew he had to stop his friend from making yet another poor investment and losing the last of his inheritance.
But how?
It was obvious that Peter wasn't willing to listen to reason, so perhaps Ian would have to try something unreasonable. Maybe if he discredited Madam Zora, cast doubts upon her ability to foretell futures, then Peter might reconsider his investment.
Ian was more than a little uncomfortable with the idea of destroying her means of support. But now, like it or not, he had no choice.
Madam Zora needed to be stopped before she did any more harm.
* * *
"Please place the divan over in that corner," Alyssa asked the servants who were helping her to set the stage for her next performance. "And the pillows can be scattered upon the rug."
"I see you've moved on to garden parties."
Spinning around, Alyssa took a deep breath as she spotted Ian walking toward her. "My ancestors invented the garden party, sir. Every celebration Gypsies hold is outdoors,"
"I'll allow that your ancestors may have tended to the outdoors as gardeners or farmers, perhaps." He slanted a glance at her. "But I doubt Gypsy traditions ever entered into it at all."
"Why do you persist in bedeviling me?"
"Why do you persist in denying the truthr
Twisting on her heel, Alyssa offered Ian her back. "I have far too much to do to arrange for this afternoon's entertainment. Please leave me to my preparations."
"Sorry to be a bother, Madam Zora, but what I need to tell you can't wait." He tugged her back around to face him. "I'm afraid your game is up now. While I thought your tales harmless, I now understand that you can grievously harm a person's future."
"Harm?" His words made her stomach clench in fear. "I am a teller of fortunes. I don't control a person's destiny."
"Oh, but you do," Ian insisted. "For example, my friend, Lord Essex, asked you a question last night about an investment he is considering and you told him to follow his heart." Leaning down, Ian frowned at her. "What you foil to understand is his heart is wrong! Because of poor investments, Peter has little money left as is. If he pours his remaining money into the mine, he shall lose everything."
The very thought made her ill. "How can you be so certain of thatr she asked weakly.
"Because making money is what I do. It's what I'm good at," Ian stated bluntly. "I know a poor investment from a sound one...and the mine he's been looking at is about the worst investment he could make. He'll lose all of his money, his home, and, ultimately, his pride, if he follows your sage wisdom."
>
Swallowing hard, Alyssa shook her head. "I didn't tell him what to do. All I encouraged him to be was true to himself."
"Well, he's a bumbler when it comes to his finances, so if he's true to himself, he'll destroy himself and his family." Ian clasped her shoulders. "You need to stop making people believe in things that simply aren't true."
His hands fell to his sides as Alyssa twisted away from him. "I can't control what people choose to do with my advice," she said, ignoring the tightness in her chest. "Everyone has a destiny and nothing I say or do will affect their fate."
A heavy sigh escaped Ian. "I will have to stop you then... and I'm sorry for that."
"I'm certain your remorse will ease your conscience," she returned coolly. "After all, you're only doing what you feel is right." She turned toward him again. "You're only following your heart," she finished with a frosty smile.
Shaking his head, Ian ignored her remark. "It doesn't have to be this way. If you cease this charade, I will gladly help you."
His arrogance held no bounds! "If you do succeed in banishing me, sit, why would I turn to you for aidr she asked incredulously.
"Because I can offer you a real job, one that doesn't fleece people out of their money or jeopardize their fu-ture." His eyes darkened. "I can offer you a means of support. .. one that doesn't rely on you maintaining this charade."
"Pah!" she spat out, trying to overcome her upset and regain her Roma accent. "You speak of pride and dignity when it comes to your friends, but what of me, sir? Your offer robs me of my dignity, I would just as soon beg in the streets than accept a farthing from you."
He remained silent, looking at her somberly. Finally, he reached out for a moment, before allowing his hand to fall back to his side. "Just remember what I said," he began. "If your situation becomes dire, come to me and I'll help you."
Watching him go, Alyssa remained still until he left the tent, then she allowed her shoulders to slump forward. Dear God, was she truly harming people by her innocent advice? Surely not.
In the case of Ian's friend, her advice would have made little difference in the long run. Of that she was certain. When a person is set upon a course, they need little persuasion to follow through with their plans. Whether she said anything to Lord Essex or not, Alyssa was quite certain that in the end, he would have made the exact same choice.
Breathing easier, she looked around the tented area, satisfied. Inside, she felt an inkling of worry, but she pushed it aside. She'd created Madam Zora, built a new life for herself and her sister, and no one was going to take it away from her.
Not even a man whose words struck much too close to heart for her peace of mind.
* * *
The enraptured faces before her made Alyssa pause in her story, drawing out the moment, making them desire more of her Gypsy lore. As a few ladies leaned forward from their reclining positions on the pillows, Alyssa hid her smile and continued, "Then the rather warned his son not to fly too high, to remain sensible and in control of his..." As Ian stepped into the tent, she faltered for a moment. "... his desires," she finished.
Ian lifted a brow at her.
Flushing, she glanced away and forced herself to concentrate on her story. "So, the hapless lad agreed, eager to strap on the wings his father had built for him and fly off to freedom. Oh, how the young man longed to soar along with the birds, to dance on the wind, to kiss the sun."
"Oh, how exciting," whispered Lady Covington, who reclined to Alyssa's right.
"Indeed it was, but once again, the father reminded his son not to fly too high or disaster would befall him." Softening her voice, Alyssa wound the story around the partygoers.
"Off they flew, away from their prison, on the cool ocean breeze." Pausing for effect, Alyssa trailed her hand through the air. The son flew calmly beside his father until something terrible happened."
The gasps of three ladies nearby rewarded Alyssa.
"The seductive warmth of the sun began to call to our poor lad, beckoning him closer, until he obeyed," she murmured, looking at the sea of eager faces. "Then our poor fellow..."
"... followed the call and when he flew too close to the heat of the sun, the wax that held the feathers upon his wings melted. And, much to the father's horror, he watched his only son plunge to his death into the dark ocean," Ian chimed in as he walked along the edge of the tent, moving toward Alyssa.
4
"So even as the father gained the very thing he thought he wanted most in the world—his freedom—he lost the one thing that made his world whole: his son," Alyssa finished as she moved into a sitting position.
"Therein lies the moral of the story."
"You know Romany lore then, Mister..." she trailed off, offering Ian a chance to supply his surname.
Bowing to her, he answered, "Mr. Ian Fortune at your service, Madam Zora... or would you prefer I called you Fortune's Lady?"
The flare in her eyes told him she hadn't known his surname. How delightful it was to be one step ahead of this crafty lady. Recovering quickly, his Gypsy murmured, "Madam Zora will be perfectly fine."
"As you wish," he returned, bowing to her once again.
Tucking her bare feet beneath the divan, Alyssa shrugged lightly. "What I wish is for you to allow me to continue with my tales."
"Ah, yes, your stories of Gypsy lore," he said, his voice tinged with sarcasm.
'Tell us, Mr. Fortune," invited Lady Covington as she shifted her position on her pillow. "How did you know the end of the story? Are you familiar with Gypsy lore?"
"Regretfully not, my lady," Ian said with a shake of his head. "However, I am quite knowledgeable about Greek mythology." Returning his attention to Madam Zora, Ian smiled at her gasp. "Oh, yes, I'm quite familiar with the story of Icarus and his father, Daedalus. You see, Lady Covington, Madam Zora's tale of Roma lore is, in reality, a Greek myth."
"It most certainly is not!" the Gypsy retorted, her eyes flashing at him. This story is one that has been passed down from my mother and my mother's mother before that." Flickering her gaze over him, she looked arrogantly disdainful. "You are just a gadjo who knows nothing."
Challenged, he pressed the issue. "Then how do you account for the fact that your tale is identical to the Greek myth?"
One shoulder lifted in a dismissive motion. "The Romany people have always wandered the earth. Perhaps the ancient Greeks stole one of our stories and claimed it for their own."
"That's possible," Lady Covington chimed in.
Ignoring the murmurs of agreement, Ian replied, "Possible, yes, but highly unlikely. While Gypsies were merely nomads, the Greeks built a great empire and were considered advanced thinkers and great storytellers."
"Then perhaps we should add thieves to their list of accomplishments as well," his Gypsy finished.
Her outrageous claim left him speechless. How did one argue with a ridiculously stubborn woman? Shaking his head, Ian gave ground. "We shall have to agree to disagree," he replied politely. "Please, pardon my interruption. Do continue."
If anything, her expression grew more wary. Ah, he knew she was smart. Apparently she didn't need her crystal ball to tell her he might have admitted defeat in the battle, but the war was far from over.
Bidding farewell to Madam Zora and the bevy of ladies before her, Ian then turned on his heel and withdrew from the tent, feeling the weight of eyes upon him with every step.
* * *
"I say, Hammond, isn't that your grandson who's bedeviling the Gypsy gel?"
Lord Regis Fortune, Duke of Hammond, glared at the braying fool next to him. "I don't have a grandson."
"Yes, yes," Lord Everett murmured with a wave of his hand, before continuing on blithely, "I know you don't acknowledge him as such... but isn't that your Harold's boy? Lord knows, he's your spitting image."
Clamping his lips shut, Lord Hammond refused to even acknowledge his companion's observation, despite the fact that Lord Everett's point was well made. The whelp did look like a
younger version of him. It would appear that the peasant blood wasn't strong enough to make a mark upon a Fortune, yet the pup's behavior smacked of lower class.
Little surprise there, Lord Hammond thought, sniffing in disgust.
Hadn't he warned his son about the dangers of marrying beneath his class? Yet, his arrogant offspring hadn't listened. No, instead, he'd run off with the serving wench and married her. Hammond still had trouble fathoming his son's actions.
The Dukedom of Hammond had taken a hard blow on that dark day.
Since then, he'd made certain no aspersions were cast upon the Fortune name. Yet now, this young upstart had begun to venture into society and once again the old scandal was beginning to raise its ugly head. Of course, the lad's behavior only fueled the ton's hunger for scandal-related gossip. Undoubtedly it was the boy's unfortunate taint from his mother's side that caused his appalling lack of gentlemanly restraint.
A shiver ran through the duke at the very thought of everyone gossiping about the Fortunes once more and he was left with one conclusion.
He'd have to make certain that the living legacy of his son's mistake went away. For good.
* * *
Alyssa's head throbbed as she let herself into her room. Holding back a groan when she saw Calla waiting for her, Alyssa lifted a hand as she set down her satchel. "Please don't ask me how the party went."
Calla's open mouth snapped closed, but only for a brief moment. "Oh, you can't say something like that and then expect me not to ask questions," she said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Something tells me your Ian was involved."
Alyssa scowled at her sister. "First off, he's not my anything."
"My, my, aren't we defensive," murmured Calla with a smile.
"Not defensive, annoyed," Alyssa corrected. "Every time I say anything about that Ian fellow bothering me, you immediately begin with your incessant conv ments about my lack of suitors. How the devil you connect the two issues, I'll never understand."
"You'd understand perfectly well if you'd only listen to me." Flopping down onto their bed, Calla shrugged lightly. "The way I see things, it's only a small skip from anger to grand passion," she finished on a sigh.
Fortune's Bride Page 3
