Fortune's Bride

by VICTORIA MALVEY

  "Please, Ian," she said again, reaching out her hand.

  But he didn't want to hear anything she had to say. "I suppose I can't blame you entirely. After all, I knew you were defrauding the ton, but I stupidly allowed myself to believe that you were being honest with me." Ian thrust his hands through his hair. "What a dolt I was. Still, you should be congratulated on your fine performance. I'm not usually so easily taken in by an act."

  When she flinched, he felt nothing but satisfaction. "What's the matter, Madam Zora? Don't you like to face the truth? I realize you're far more comfortable with lies, but this time there's no veil to hide behind."

  "I'm not looking to hide," she said, her quiet dignity so at odds with his fury. "I'd only like to explain—"

  Holding up his hands, he cut her off. "I have no wish to hear any more of your lies."

  Her eyes filled with tears, but she remained silent.

  A maelstrom of emotions raged through him as he watched a tear escape. "No more," he rasped, before turning on his heel and walking away.

  * * *

  Staring down the now empty hallway, Alyssa tried to force her jumbled thoughts into a semblance of order ... yet the task seemed impossible. Guilt over her deception, longing for Ian's companionship, and sorrow for succeeding in driving him away bombarded her. True, she'd meant to drive a wedge be-tween them, but she'd never imagined she would feel this deep sense of loss once she'd accomplished her goal.

  Wrapping her arms around her middle, Alyssa held on to her control, not wanting to break down in front of her little sister.

  "Alyssa?" Calla asked tentatively. "Are you all right?"

  Alyssa forced herself to smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

  If anything, Calla's concern deepened, "Oh, Alyssa," she murmured, stepping forward to wrap her arms around her sister.

  Drawing comfort from Calla, Alyssa held onto her sister. After a while, she pulled away, wiping at the stray tear slipping down her cheek. "We shouldn't be standing in the hallway like this," she murmured. "Scary Mr. Mariachi might wander along."

  Calla giggled at the thought as she slipped back into their apartment. Alyssa followed her sister... after one last, longing glance down the hallway.

  * * *

  She'd lied to him! Her deception shouldn't have come as such a surprise, but amazingly, it did. It cut him to the quick to know that all of her concern and tenderness in the garden had simply been part of her act to lower his defenses.

  How she planned to use him, he wasn't certain, but that hardly seemed the point. Undoubtedly, he was simply part of her grand plan to deceive the ton. Pain rippled through him at the thought.

  Taking his front steps two at a time, Ian heard the voices coming from inside before he even opened the door. What now?

  Pushing open the door, Ian skidded to a halt, over-whelmed with shock at the chaos he beheld.

  "Where the devil did all these bloody frogs come from?"

  11

  The question had no sooner left his mouth when one of the slimy creatures hopped onto his boot. Kicking it away, Ian stared at the moist skid now marring the shiny leather. Even as he looked down, two more frogs came hopping by, followed by a shrieking housemaid with a broom.

  "Foul beasties!"

  Watching his servants scurry around, chasing after frogs of all shapes and sizes and even a few toads tossed into the mix, Ian was speechless. His butler rushed forward, holding a squirming bag that left little doubt as to its contents. "It's a madhouse, sir. Frogs have invaded every corner of the house, from the kitchens up to the bedchambers."

  Fixing a stare upon the harried man, Ian demanded, "When I sent you to find some of the buggers, just how many did you bring back?"

  "Only ten, sir, just as you asked."

  "Then, how do you explain this?" Ian asked, point-ing to the foyer where at least a hundred of the crea-tures were massed.

  Shaking his head, the butler shrugged lightly. "I can't, sir. I'm truly at a loss as to where they all came from." His brows drew downward. "Just how quickly do frogs... you know..."

  "Procreate? Reproduce?" Ian asked, unable to hold in his laugh. "I'm not certain, Manning, but I know it couldn't possibly be this quick."

  "Then I don't know how to explain it," the butler replied as he tried to straighten his jacket. "Unless the fortuneteller is for more powerful than anyone realized."

  "Oh, she's powerful all right. A frighteningly powerful actress. However, what she is not is a fortuneteller."

  "Then how do you explain this?" Manning asked, helplessly pointing toward the green, frog-hopping insanity that now ruled Ian's home.

  "I can't at the moment... but I will," Ian vowed. "Now gather all the servants and round up these pests."

  "Everyone who hasn't fainted or gone running off screaming is already working to capture the nasty creatures." Sighing loudly, Manning admitted, "But I have to tell you, sir, they are slippery little buggers."

  "Yes, well, just try your best to—"

  "Yoo-hoo! Mr. Fortune!"

  Groaning, Ian turned around to see a trio of women standing at the base of his front steps. "Ladies," he greeted them. "It's a bit early in the day for calling."

  "Oh, I know, but I assured my friends that you wouldn't mind," Lady Covington replied smoothly.

  "Of course not," he murmured, wondering how he was going to get them to leave ... quickly. "But I fear I shan't be able to ask you in at the moment. You see

  I'm having a bit of...painting done and the workers

  are literally crawling all over the foyer."

  "Oh, but we don't mind at all, do we?" Lady Cov-ington glanced at her two companions, Lady Heath and Lady Weatherstone, who both shook their heads. "We so enjoy your company, Mr. Fortune."

  Even if they did, they hadn't come seeking his company, Ian knew, trying to think of a new approach for sending them packing. But just as he decided upon his next tactic, the matter was taken from his hands when a large, dark brown toad hopped out from between his feet.

  Stopping on the top step, the creature croaked loudly, before proceeding off the edge of the landing.

  "Wonder where that fellow came from?" Ian murmured, hoping to distract the ladies.

  But they were not to be deterred.

  These formidable matrons had gotten past the most stringent of footmen; they weren't about to allow one lone gentleman to stop them. Ian could see it in their eyes as they took the steps in unison.

  "Ladies, please," Ian began, holding up his hands.

  "We insist," Lady Covington replied sweetly, her voice at odds with the steely glint in her eyes. "Everyone who is anyone is simply dying to know if Madam Zora's prediction came true."

  As the three women took the last step, Ian realized if he was going to stop them, it would have to be by force. It seemed he had no choice. Knowing when he was defeated, Ian stepped to the side. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

  Squeals of delight escaped Lady Covington as she beheld the chaotic scene. "I knew Madam Zora was the real thing."

  "As did I," pronounced Lady Heath, taking a step back as a frog hopped toward her.

  "Not a doubt in my mind," Lady Weatherstone added.

  Frowning slightly, Lady Covington glanced at Ian. "Though I must admit that the large number of frogs wandering about surprises me. There are most definitely more than a hundred frogs here."

  "Just lucky, I guess," Ian murmured, thinking about the wonderful morning he'd had so far—first his disillusionment with Zora, then returning home to a frog-filled house. "Just a lucky man," he repeated as a frog jumped from a nearby table and landed squarely on his shoulder.

  Looking down at the frog's bulging eyes, Ian sighed as the odious creature croaked at him.

  A lucky fellow indeed.

  * * *

  After his noise-filled, chaotic home, Ian found the sounds drifting from the docks soothing. He'd managed to shuffle Lady Covington and her friends out of his home, before leaving his servants to clean up the f
rogs and heading for the calm of his office. Hell, he was smart enough to know when to seek refuge.

  Finding comfort in the order of his books, Ian concentrated on tallying the figures. He'd only finished the first column when there was a knock at the door.

  "Begging your pardon, sir," Charles said as he poked his head around the door. "Lord Allerby would like to speak with you."

  "Please show him in." Setting down his quill, Ian rose and walked around his desk to welcome his friend. "Allerby," he greeted. "This is an unexpected pleasure."

  "Glad you think so, Fortune. I'd hate to be a bother." Allerby pointed to Ian's desk. "And since I see you're busy, I'll gladly call upon you later."

  Waving a hand toward the piles of paper on his desk, Ian smiled at his friend, I'm just calculating the profit Lord Ashton made on a shipment of silk, but it's nothing that can't wait." He gestured toward a chair. "Please, have a seat and tell me to what do I owe this pleasure."

  "I've come for your advice," AUerby admitted. "Sunley told me you'd warned him against investing in the Electrolytic Marine Mining Company."

  "Indeed I did." Ian returned to his seat. "I find the entire idea ludicrous."

  "That's what Sunley said," Allerby murmured, a frown gathering upon his features. "Still, Fortune, you can't deny that many of my peers have made great sums of money from that company, so how could it be a sham?"

  "Undoubtedly Mr. Jennings is intelligent enough to pay off some of the first investors,.. not too much, mind you. No, just enough to catch the interest of everyone else. Only after he piques everyone's curiosity and gathers in more investors will the lies be ex-posed."

  Allerby's hand shook as he rubbed his forehead. "You're undoubtedly right, Fortune."

  His friend's behavior struck Ian as odd. "You seem most distressed by this situation, Allerby."

  "Not distressed, really, merely upset." Allerby clasped his hands together. "I'm simply disappointed that you don't believe in the company. Hell, your instinct for turning a profit is almost legendary in society." His laugh sounded flat. "I just wanted the investment to be solid as I've had a bad turn at the ta-bles and need to recoup some of my losses."

  Ian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "Can I be of assistance?"

  "Not unless you'd be willing to take a trip to Bath with me," Allerby replied.

  "Bathr The reason for Allerby's request clicked into place. "Because you'd like to tour the Electrolytic Marine Mining facilities," he concluded.

  "Until I see it for myself, I won't be able to put it from my mind."

  Allerby's confession didn't surprise Ian at all, for he'd learned during his foray into society that the desire for quick, easy money ran strong in blue blood. "As it so happens, Allerby," Ian began, "Peter and I had already planned to visit the company to see the operation for ourselves. You're more than welcome to join us, of course."

  "Splendid." An anxious look flashed over Allerby's race. "Can we head for Bath tomorrow? I know that seems rather hurried, but I doubt I'll be able to sleep until I see the company for myself."

  Allerby's request seemed a bit odd, but when Ian considered his current situation, he realized he could use a few days away from town. At least until the furor over Zora's curse coming true died down. Glancing down at the pile of work, Ian decided his peace of mind was far more important. "As luck would have it, tomorrow works fine. I'll send around a note to Peter asking him to join us as well."

  "Splendid." Rising to his feet, Atterby offered Ian his hand. "I truly appreciate this, Fortune."

  "I'm more than happy to do it," Ian replied honestly.

  * * *

  "We leave tomorrow."

  Watching Allerby squirm in the leather chair, the duke grew amused at the man's discomfort. "Are you quite certain?

  "Positive, your grace," replied Allerby, glancing away. "Will you return my markers now?"

  Shaking his head, the duke smiled. "Not until your return."

  "But you said all I needed to do was arrange for Ian to be out of town for a few days and you'd return my markers that you purchased from Lord Hathaway."

  "Quite true," the duke conceded. "However, Ian hasn't been gone for a few days, now has he? When you return from your trip, I shall give you the markers... after I'm certain that you didn't mention our little arrangement to Ian."

  Allerby's eyes darkened. "Very well, your grace." Hearing the anger vibrating in the young lord's re-sponse, the duke couldn't help but smile.

  * * *

  "Regis Fortune, the Duke of Hammond to see you, my lord."

  Choking on his crumpet, the Ear! of Tonneson struggled to regain his breath. "For me? Here?" he asked.

  "Yes, my lord," the servant intoned.

  "Show him in, man. You don't make a duke wait in the foyer, you dunderhead."

  Without another word, the butler went to fetch the duke. Clapping his hands once, the earl grinned as he wiped off the crumbs scattered on his vest. It wouldn't do to have a duke see him looking less than proper.

  The Duke of Hammond personified the best society had to offer, Lord Tonneson knew, and looking at the regal figure the duke cut as he entered the room, the earl could see that none of the gossip had overstated the man's powerful aura.

  "Your grace." Dipping into a bow, the earl straightened and pointed to a nearby chair. "I am honored by your presence."

  "Thank you," Lord Hammond replied crisply. "I'll wager you're wondering why I've come to call."

  "I must admit I am."

  Lord Hammond settled in the designated chair and crossed his hands over his stomach. "I came to form an alliance between our two houses."

  Stumbling backward, the earl thanked Heaven for the settee behind him. "An alliance?" he asked, his voice squeaking on the last word.

  "Between your cousin and my grandson."

  Frantically he searched his memory, trying to remember if he'd heard mention of the grandson. Not that it mattered, the eart realized. If the grand' son of this man had been the devil himself, Lord Tonneson would still have been more than eager to settle one of his cousins upon him. After all, connections were connections. Smiling broadly, he asked, "Which cousin are you inquiring after? Alyssa or Calla?"

  "I thought one of your cousins was still a child."

  "She's fifteen or so," the earl replied, shrugging off the duke's concern. "In the past, ladies often wed much younger."

  The duke cleared his throat sternly, letting Lord Tonneson know he'd made a misstep. "I believe my grandson has an interest in the elder."

  "Alyssa." Nodding sagely, the earl tried to make up for his mistake. "As to your offer of an alliance, I be-lieve she would be most amenable to it." Even if she weren't, he'd see to it Alyssa agreed to the match, the earl thought with a smile.

  "Excellent," pronounced the duke. "As to the details, I shall have my man-of-business contact yours to draw up a contract—"

  "Pardon me, my lord," the butler interrupted.

  "What?" snapped Lord Tonneson, not wanting any disruptions.

  "Mr. Meiser is here to see you and he is insisting that it is most urgent."

  Excellent timing! "Show him in," directed the earl, practically rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Meiser is my man-of-business, so it might help to move along the contract if he is notified immediately."

  "I agree," the duke replied smoothly.

  "It's fortuitous that you came, Meiser. His grace and I have come to an agreement between my cousin, Lady Alyssa Porter, and his grandson—"

  "Ian Fortune, Marquess of Dorset," supplied the duke.

  "Yes, the Marquess," Lord Tonneson repeated, rolling the sweet title over his tongue.

  "Very well, my lord. I shall see to the matter immediately." Meiser glanced at the duke, before looking at the earl. "Might I have a word—"

  "Perfect," announced Lord Hammond, cutting off Meiser without a qualm. "The sooner the better."

  The duke's eagerness caught Meiser's attention. "Do I take it, your
grace, that you want me to arrange the terms of marriage, along with inheritance portions?"

  "All of it," the duke instructed, waving his hand blithely. "I wish to have the arrangement settled immediately."

  That suited the earl perfectly.

  "Forgive my impertinence, your grace, but might I inquire as to the reason for such expedience?" Meiser asked hesitantly.

  Lifting his brow, the duke answered Meiser's question without hesitation. "Actually, it might be best if I tell you that my grandson has shown some... inappropriate interest in a Gypsy wench who entertains at a number of parties here in town."

  A curious choking sound came from Meiser. "Do you refer to Madam Zora?" the man managed to croak.

  "Indeed I do." Leveling his gaze at the earl, Lord Hammond continued, "Despite this, however, I can assure you that my grandson will make an exemplary husband to your cousin for whom he has already shown an interest."

  As if that mattered. Still, the earl managed to hold back the remark. "Very well, then."

  Rising to his feet, the duke collected his hat and gloves. "It is settled." Holding out a hand to the earl, Lord Hammond remarked, "It has been a pleasure doing business with you." Glancing at Meiser, the duke nodded in farewell. "I shall arrange for Mr. Fen-t wig to contact you immediately."

  "I shall await your agent," Meiser said in a tight, strangled voice.

  As soon as the duke left, the earl dropped his con-cerned air and smacked Meiser lightly on the arm. "What is the matter with you, Meiser? I thought you were going to get ill all over the duke's Hessians." Doing a little dance around the settee, Lord Tonneson crowed gleefully. "Imagine, me intimately connected to a duke. How utterly delightful..."

  "My lord?"

  "... how completely marvelous..."

  "My lord!"

  "... how intensely satisfying..."

  "Your cousin is Madam Zora!"

  Meiser's announcement brought an end to the earl's victory dance. "She's who?"

  "Madam Zora," Meiser repeated glumly. "The Gypsy fortuneteller the duke was talking about."