Miss Fortune’s First Kiss
A widowed earl, a governess who is far too clever for her own good, two motherless little girls, and one small dog who manages to bring them all together…
"Your First Kiss holds the answer to all that you desire." The fortune drew laughter from Matilda Fortune when Madame Zeta, a visiting gypsy uttered the ridiculous words.. At eight and twenty, Tilde’s first kiss had long come and gone. As had the gentleman who bestowed it...
The Earl of Willoughby has given up on love. Since the death of his wife, he's lived in a fog. In route to London for the season, his mischievous daughters insist upon stopping at a small village. If only he hadn't allowed the mysterious gypsy to read his palm. Could his future be hidden in the past?
Miss Fortune’s First Kiss
Annabelle Anders
Copyright © 2019 by Annabelle Anders
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
For Peaches.
And every pet who has ever brought joy to a child.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
A sample of the next Fortunes of Fate Book
Acknowledgments
Also by Annabelle Anders
Chapter 1
Misfortune
A small village on the outskirts of London, England
Your First Kiss holds the answer to all that you desire.
Tilde snorted with laughter as she walked out of the fortune teller’s tent and into the sunshine on such a fine spring afternoon.
“Foolishness, Peaches, I tell you. Utter foolishness.”
She chuckled again at her own words, aware that she was more likely to be judged to be foolish for talking to her dog. Nonetheless, loyal brown eyes stared up at her in complete agreement.
Peaches had been her small, short-legged, long-bodied companion for the past seven years. The sweet pup barely weighed half a stone and her coat varied between reddish browns and blacks. Tilde believed with all certainty that Peaches understood every word she said.
“All that I desire! Can you imagine, Peaches?” Tilde scoffed out loud.
But she could not prevent shelved memories from breaking through. She pondered the first time a man’s lips had touched her own. A very long time ago. Eleven years this spring, to be exact. At one time, the old woman’s words would have summoned tears.
Not that she’d been in love with him. Good Heavens, they’d only just met. It was just that she had been so sure he was … The One.
Perhaps, as a naïve and innocent girl, she’d concocted the magic. Imagined the certainty that she’d discovered the man of her dreams.
“Hello, dog.” A shy voice drew Matilda’s attention back to the present. “Will you bite me if I pet you?”
Matilda smiled down at the young girl. “Her name is Peaches and I think she’d quite enjoy being petted by such a well-mannered young lady.” The child appeared to be five, maybe six, with silky black hair and pale skin. It seemed to have taken a great deal of courage for her to make her request. “But, come,” Tilde suggested, mindful of the revelry going on all around them. “Let’s step out of the path so no pedestrians trample us.”
Both Peaches and the girl followed Tilde as she led them to a bench beside one of the tents. The little girl didn’t seem to know what she ought to do next.
Since the earth was dry, Matilda lowered herself to the ground, wagering the three of them would all be more comfortable making introductions there. She gestured to the child, who immediately dropped down beside her.
“Peaches, this is… Pardon me, we failed to make our introductions to one another. My name is Miss Matilda Fortune.” She dipped her head in lieu of dropping to a curtsey.
“I’m Althea.” The child spoke the words timidly––to Peaches. Tilde’s brows rose at the child’s shyness and formal manner. By the quality of her dress and her perfectly braided and coiled hair, Matilda surmised Althea was no ordinary village urchin. Tilde glanced around and wondered where her nanny might be. She hoped she didn’t draw anyone’s ire by sitting with the girl in the dusty straw like this.
As soon as the thought came, however, she dismissed it. Children needed to be allowed to sit on the ground and play. They needed to be allowed to be children. Turning back to Peaches, she completed the proper introductions.
“You can touch her here.” Tilde rubbed the back of Peaches’ neck and lovingly worked her way down the dog’s long body. “She especially likes it because she cannot scratch her own back.”
Lady Althea raised her hands, which, in no time, were petting Peaches’ short hair in long affectionate strokes. When Peaches deigned to lick the girl’s chin, Althea giggled.
“Where is your nanny?” Again, Tilde twisted her head around to see if anyone appeared to be searching for someone. If the child was lost, then her charge would most certainly be looking for her.
They ought to be, anyhow!
“We don’t have a nanny.” Althea spoke without removing her gaze, or her hands, from Peaches.
“Did your mother bring you to the festival?” Tilde considered it highly unlikely that a peeress would attend such a common event.
But before Althea could answer, a virtual duplicate of her dropped onto the ground beside them. Lacking any of the shyness of her sister, the nearly indistinguishable looking girl began petting Peaches, who appeared to be in heaven.
“Althea! I’ve been looking all over for you! Is this your dog, Miss? Oh, he’s a fine little fellow.”
Little Althea mumbled inaudibly. Her sister––the girl had to be her sister, or even a twin—seemed to understand, nevertheless.
“You’re tiny but you aren’t a puppy, are you?” No bashfulness on this girl’s part. “What’s his name?”
Tilde drew herself up to her knees. If both girls were present, then somebody would soon find them. “She is a lady dog: Peaches. And yours? I take it you are Althea’s sister?”
The second girl rose to her feet, all the while nodding. “I’m Eloise.” And then she dropped into a perfect curtsey.
“I am Miss Matilda Fortune. It is, indeed, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Tilde didn’t hold Eloise’s attention for long.
Without warning, the child sprang into motion, shouting and waving her arms. “We’re over here, Papa! Come see. Thea’s found a dog!” With a sideways glance at Tilde, she added, “And a missus that owns it!”
Oh, dear. ‘Papa’ may not be at all too pleased with his daughters running off on their own. Tilde knew she most definitely would not.
And, she supposed, best not to be sitting cross-legged in the dirt if the gentleman was indeed, some sort of a lord. Unwinding her legs, Tilde pushed herself to her feet and then her full height. She couldn’t quite make out his face but wished to reassure him of his daughters’ well-being as quickly as possible. “They’re safe and sound. And, I imagine, chockfull of apologies for worrying you.”
She then clasped her hands in front of her, satisfied that these two little girls were no longer unsupervised. Although the village w
as a small one, country fairs like this often attracted more than a few undesirable characters.
None too pleased, the approaching man removed his hat, all the while scowling deeply at the four of them. These peers…
Without the brim of his hat pulled low, his long, aquiline nose, firm chin and unsmiling lips appeared quite distinguished. Tilde would have guessed him to be a gentleman even if she hadn’t met the two little ladies first.
And then her breath caught.
Stormy gray eyes were lined with lashes, so black and thick he almost looked as though he’d rimmed them with kohl.
She’d seen those eyes before. And those lips.
Good Heavens! He was Jasper! It could not be. At this festival. Today. Of all days. She subdued her suddenly racing heart and ignored the heat creeping up her neck. His appearance here was merely an ironic coincidence. It was not some mystical twist of fate, foretold by a woman who claimed to have the second sight.
And that kiss had been so very long ago… It’s doubtful he remembers me.
Judging by the look on his face, he wouldn’t care if he had. In fact, no doubt all he felt was a mixture of relief and anger at his two lovely young daughters who’d managed to slip away from him.
A cheer arose as inhabitants of a nearby gaming tent chose that moment to celebrate some magnificent feat or other such nonsense. Peaches joined them merrily with a string of enthusiastic yaps. Further excited by the arrival of the girls’ father, she began running in wild circles, twisting the leading string around Tilde’s ankles. When the girls attempted to subdue her exuberant pet, more chaos ensued.
Likely he thinks we’ve all just stepped out of Bedlam.
And yet, Tilde refused to give into embarrassment. Of mind to bring some order to the situation, she moved to shush Peaches, but her entangled feet failed to cooperate. Despite waving her arms in an attempt to regain her balance, Tilde immediately realized this was not going to end well.
As she fell backward, the thick material of the tent wrapped itself around Tilde as the tent folded like an unstarched petticoat.
She winced as her bum hit the ground, but also at the shouted curses from the merchant who’d been inside.
Oh, dear. A most unfortunate turn of events.
It wasn’t really necessary to greet him now, was it? The girl’s father was with them now. They could go on their way with no fuss at all.
Perhaps Tilde could remain wrapped in the canvas for the duration of the afternoon. Or even crawl away undetected with Peaches in tow…
Because all she could think was that Jasper Talbot was the man the fortune teller spoke of. All that you desire... First kiss…
The fortune teller’s prediction echoed in her head.
Eleven years before, he’d been the first man to ever kiss her.
* * *
A half hour after they arrived at the fair, Jasper Talbot, The Earl of Willoughby, was as far from amused as London is from Calcutta. First his daughters had demanded they delay their journey to stop for the festival. Then they had immediately bolted out of sight, causing him no small amount of worry.
They could have been driving into Mayfair about now if he wasn’t so easily manipulated by his little urchins.
Cheers sounded from some sort of strength competition up ahead. Had his daughters not gone missing, he wouldn’t have minded a look at the show. A decade ago, his brash self might even have accepted the challenge. But for now, he needed to assure himself of their safety. God help him if anything ever happened to those two imps.
They would be fine, of course. They likely got distracted by a tent filled with baubles.
A waft of manure drifted through the alley of vendors. Booths featuring animals would have captured his daughter’s attention as well. Willoughby wrinkled his nose in disgust when he passed a pen holding a giant hog. It wasn’t that he took issue with farm animal smells, but he did when they were directly adjacent to a tent selling meat pies.
Where are they?
Lengthening his stride, he flicked his gaze left and right. He’d ordered them to remain close. It would serve them right if he took the strap to their tiny behinds.
Except he’d never do such a thing.
A flapping pastel pink ribbon drew his attention, granting him no small amount of relief. On the dirt, in their pretty dresses with what looked to be––what he hoped to be anyhow––a dog, his daughters sat merrily playing. They were annoyingly oblivious to the panic they’d caused him.
He did not shout their names but instead marched determinedly in that direction. The two dark heads were bent over, intently focused upon the mongrel.
And then one of the girls glanced up. Eloise, of course. Althea spent an inordinate amount of time living within her own mind, a dreamland of sorts, uninterested in the world around her.
“We’re over here, Papa! Come see, Thea’s found a dog!” She twisted her lips into a grimace before adding, “And a missus that owns it!”
The dog’s owner––a spinster if he were to guess from her unfashionable attire––pushed herself off the ground as he approached. He was, indeed, grateful that she’d kept the girls in one place long enough that he could find them. He only hoped she didn’t take it upon herself to admonish his parenting.
Or lack, thereof.
The governess he intended to hire wasn’t to start until next week, and that wouldn’t be a moment too soon.
“They’re safe and sound and, I imagine, filled with apologies for worrying you.”
He half noted the spinster’s voluptuous curves with disdain. The material of her dress was faded and worn. Atop her head she’d perched a straw hat ornamented with flowers and what appeared to be… bumble bees.
But then the woman’s face caught and held his attention. Something familiar about her. Upturned nose, full rosy lips and eyes that were… brown, perhaps? As they widened in shock, they appeared more of an olive tone.
He’d definitely met this woman before...
More cheers from the revelers broke into his train of thought. She went to quiet her dog as he approached. “Have a care, madam!” He shouted too late.
Before he could do anything to prevent certain calamity, the blasted woman had lost her balance and fallen backwards into the precarious structure. His girls looked on in astonishment while the entire apparatus collapsed to the ground.
And then.
Silence.
“Misfortune?” Eloise took a timid step toward the pile of canvas that had swallowed the woman whole. Unfortunate indeed.
“You must help her, Papa!” Eloise implored him as though the woman had fallen into some great abyss. “You have to save her! What if she cannot breathe?”
“I’m certain she can breathe.”
But Althea begged him with soulful eyes.
Dropping to his haunches, he began unwrapping the blasted woman, fold by fold. With one final tug he revealed her inert form.
She lay in repose, as though the fall had indeed killed her. One glance at her bosom, rising and falling, assured him that it had not.
Rather generous bosom.
His gaze travelled upward, and a recollection tantalized his mind as he noticed golden red strands shining in her chestnut hair. Long, thick lashes fanned out against her flushed complexion. And such full lips, he’d not known since…
“Miss Fortune?” Eloise dropped to her knees beside him.
“Misfortune?” He questioned. “Calm down, Eloise, I believe she yet lives.”
“No, Papa. That’s her name. Miss Fortune. Matilde Fortune.”
He’d heard that name before. “Miss Fortune.” It felt familiar on his lips as he touched the woman’s shoulder. “Are you injured?”
She opened her eyes, and then raised a hand to shade the sun from them.
“Only my pride,” she admitted with a rueful smile. Miss Fortune wasn’t a beauty by societal standards, but her smile generated a surprising energy inside of him. Taking her hand, he tugged her so that she
could sit up. “Oh, but I’ve made a mess!”
She had indeed, and yet, he sensed laughter could overflow from her any moment.
“You’re sorry, aren’t you, Peaches?” Althea stepped forward, cradling the pup in her arms. As she cuddled the tiny head beneath her chin, she glanced sideways at her father defiantly.
Miss Fortune made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Naughty, naughty Peaches! She forgot her manners, didn’t she? I’m so glad you could comfort her. She isn’t used to being around quite so many people at once. She certainly likes you, Althea.”
His daughter nodded solemnly and then a hint of a smile danced on her lips.
This––Miss Fortune woman––had cast some sort of spell on all of them.
Had this been Eloise, he wouldn’t have been surprised at the behavior at all. But to see his painfully shy sweetheart having a perfectly normal conversation with a stranger…
He swallowed hard and turned back to the woman still sitting in the crumpled canvas of the collapsed tent. Only then did he realize he still clasped her hand in his. He dropped it and then immediately experienced an odd sensation of loss.
At sixes and sevens, Jasper held her gaze and was once again caught in the feeling that he’d known her.
And before he could offer further assistance, she’d brushed at her skirt, swung her feet around and pushed herself off the ground.
Rising himself, he glanced at his daughters and then back at Miss Fortune.
One would think a person, having displayed such undignified behavior, would have the decency to look ashamed.
Not this one.
Putting the entire incident behind her, she immediately began sounding more like the busybody he’d initially taken her for.
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