Foretold Heart

by Camille Oster

  "And you are willing to overlook my terrible reputation in her case?"

  "Well, I have since learnt that some of the people who lament your reputation might have been unduly influenced by circumstantial realities."

  "You mean my father."

  "Well, I would not be so coarse as to say it, but yes. It appears there are some who did not greatly admire your father."

  "I was one of them."

  "I am sorry to hear that.”

  “He died alone and unloved for his many sins."

  "It must have been hard for you to grow up with such a man."

  "So I have your sympathy now," Felix said. This was the strangest conversation, but he didn't dislike it. Miss Sylvia Bellworth had a way of leading conversation into the most unexpected directions, and then illicit confidences easily. Why was he telling her about his difficult childhood? He wasn't by any means trying to garner sympathy. "It drove me to a life of adventure," he admitted. One he was, frankly, quite lost without, but he wasn't about to admit that.

  "As I was saying. Araminth could use a steadfast and loyal husband, who doesn't like to run after every pretty face on stage as some of her current suitors do."

  "So you wish for me to save her from herself?"

  "Well, you were lamenting the trials and tribulations of being an eligible man. There is only one way to remedy that, I assure you. No other way. Even losing an eye would not change that. Although, a few less careful men have lost the eligibility status by gambling away their fortunes, but I assume you are too sensible a man to do that."

  "What makes you assume that?"

  "You were a soldier for at least a decade. You would likely not be here if you weren't a careful and astute man."

  "I cannot fault your logic. Careless and risk-seeking men tended to return home in less than alive states. So, I should marry Araminth and you shall marry this marquess of…"

  "Fonterey," she added. "It is only a stupid fortune for the purpose of entertainment. Do not let your fancies carry you away." Well, that was something he had never been accused of before. "The fortune actually said nothing about you specifically, so you will have to see this woman yourself if you want your own, but I would suggest not."

  "And why is that?"

  "From personal experience, I can say I certainly didn't find the experience soothing and comforting."

  "The suggestion that you would end up married to me?"

  "You are a perfect stranger."

  "Whom you are currently playing matchmaker for."

  Her eyes shifted between his for a moment. "I am simply trying to help you find a solution to your problem. I can, of course, give you an honest assessment of the strengths and weaknesses of every eligible woman that you could encounter. Well, not all of them, but a fair few."

  "That would indeed be very helpful, but as I said, I am not currently seeking a wife."

  "To Araminth's detriment, I am sure."

  Provided it was not to her, she was ready to embrace his suitability as a husband. "Just for my own purposes, why would I make such a terrible husband to you?"

  "We're not suited at all, are we?"

  "How so?"

  The stumped look on her face suggested she hadn't a ready answer. "I simply don't think we are well matched at all." There didn't seem to be any specific reason for her claim. Was it that she had set herself against the idea because it had been presented to her as a prophecy? Felix smiled. Miss Bellworth did not like being told what to do. She liked to discover for herself.

  "Because, unfortunately, although not exclusive, I am still one of the two men that this prophecy says you will end up marrying."

  A frown marred her features. "I believe you are toying with me, Lord Britheney." That was true and she was intelligent enough to see it. "Luckily for me, you are not seeking a wife."

  That was true, but also true was that his visit to Lieutenant Simmons had sparked something, an envy of the comfort and easiness Simmons felt with his wife. It certainly was something enviable. The idea of marriage was a little less jarring than it had been, but it had to be with the right person—someone he could have a close and substantial relationship. It was a concept he was both excited and wary about, but he knew he would accept no other option if he were to marry.

  Chapter 17

  "WHY CAN WE NOT GO visit Alexander?" Sylvia questioned as she followed Andrew through the house.

  "Because he's not really a ‘welcome callers' kind of person," Andrew replied. "And really, I don't want to subject him to your silly notions that you two should marry."

  "And what exactly is so wrong with us marrying?"

  "Because it's only something you are contemplating because of that stupid prophecy. That is no reason to marry someone."

  Sylvia bit her lip. Andrew did have a point. "Maybe I am simply for the reason that it is pointing me to a person I actually like."

  "Like? Only a few weeks back, you were lamenting what a directionless lush he was. Because nothing has changed with Alexander, except maybe the speed he moves at. But I doubt breaking his leg is going to slow him down permanently."

  "And maybe he could really use a wife to set his direction in life."

  Andrew turned and glared at her. "Perhaps you need to check your direction in life if you are making decisions based on some carnival sideshow attraction."

  "Or simply the idea of marrying Alexander is growing on me. He could certainly use a wife."

  "Doesn't mean he wants one."

  "Of course he wants one. He's the loneliest man in the world, completely without family."

  "And some men like it that way. The idea is starting to grow on me right this moment."

  "Oh really? So we won't be seeing you prance around Ester then."

  "I don't prance."

  Sylvia pretended a shocked gasp. "How can it be perfectly reasonable that you are flirting with my friend and I cannot do the same with yours?"

  "Because it's completely different."

  "How exactly?" Sylvia demanded, crossing her arms.

  "Because…" Andrew said and then was stumped for a moment. "Besides Alexander doesn't have a dark nature."

  "He's in mourning," Sylvia exaggerated. "Doesn't get much darker than that. What if he is the one intended for me and you are standing in the way of our happiness."

  "What if Lord Britheney is really the one intended for you? Isn't it curious how this woman predicts someone just like him and he appears within days?"

  "I thought you said she is a carnival sideshow charlatan."

  "Of course she is, but if you are going to act utterly insane, I would prefer you would do it somewhere other than with my close friends."

  "That is a complete double standard," she accused.

  "Fine, it is. But the truth is that Alexander and you are absolutely not suitable. You wouldn't even be happy for a single moment."

  "You can't know that."

  "I am fairly sure I can. Simply because he could use a wife doesn't mean he would make a good husband. Particularly not to someone with a personality like yours."

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "Just like I meant it. You are not well matched."

  Andrew disappeared into his room and closed the door firmly behind him. He did that when he wished to escape. Sylvia stared at his door and tapped her foot with frustration. Andrew was categorically unwilling to help her. He should be so lucky that it was a friend he would bring into the family. It would make them closer and happier. But Andrew didn't understand that for some strange reason. Well, there was no talking to him now as he wouldn't come out of his room until she was gone. Coward.

  Downstairs, she heard Ester arrive and she turned sharply to seek her friend. "Andrew is being impossible," she said as she walked down the stairs.

  "What are you two fighting about now?"

  "He is purposefully ensuring I have no access to Alexander at all by refusing to call on him."

  Ester placed her bonnet down on the ve
stibule side table. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold. Perhaps it wasn't remarkable that Andrew was interested in her. She was lovely and near perfect. Her personality was steady and reasonable, and she had the capacity to be silly when the mood suited her.

  "Tea?" Sylvia offered.

  "Yes please."

  "He says we are not well matched," Sylvia said as they walked into the drawing room. "Mother is out calling somewhere."

  "Andrew does know him better. Perhaps he is right."

  "We have always gotten on well."

  "Hello," Andrew said, appearing at the door. Oh, now he wished to come out of his room. "How are you?" he said, walking over to Ester and kissing her on the cheek. It was strange seeing Andrew and Ester still being so formal. They never had been before.

  "Well," she said and sat down. "It's brisk outside. I swear the Thames will freeze over."

  "I hope so," Andrew said.

  Sylvia was just about to say that he loved to skate, but Ester beat her to it. "Hopefully you will get a chance to dust off your skates," Ester said and Sylvia closed her mouth. Perhaps Ester knew her brother just about as well as she did. Still, it was hard for her to imagine romantic interest between them, but it was happening right in front of your eyes.

  "I'll teach you if you like," Andrew offered and Ester blushed.

  Sylvia rolled her eyes. Really, would either of them notice if she got up and left the room? Might be the perfect time to go calling on Alexander—except calling on a gentleman living alone, even with a maid in tow would be too much. One of those stupid things young women couldn’t get caught doing, and Sylvia was never going to be that silly. Unless Alexander came to some ball or function, there was no way for her to see him unless her brother facilitated it.

  "Perhaps we should go have a look?" Andrew suggested.

  However, the same thing was true now. If she did not accompany them, there was no way Ester could go for a walk with Andrew. They both looked at her expectantly.

  "Alright fine," she relented. Maybe she should have made it conditional on them going to call on Alexander later, but she hadn't thought about it until after agreeing. Perhaps next time. So now they had to leave the warm and comfortable drawing room to traipse down to the river. Although, this was really the only time of the year to walk by the river as it smelled more tolerable when it was frozen over.

  They had their tea and then dressed. Andrew was completely taking over her time with Ester, jesting and flirting. Perhaps they would have to spend time at Ester's house from now on if they wanted to spend any time together.

  Dressed for the cold, they left the house. The air was certainly brisk. Andrew and Ester were walking ahead of her as her spending time with her best friend had now turned into her chaperoning her best friend.

  The streets were less busy with the cold weather, but some brave vendors were still selling their wares. Perhaps they could get a hot chocolate later, Sylvia wondered, but as she walked, her mind turned to Lord Britheney and the last conversation they'd had. He had been much more curious to speak to than she had noticed before. Perhaps it had been her own openness to conversing with him, but he wasn't quite the ogre she had built him up to be. His humor was dry. She'd even sympathized about how difficult it would have been to have grown up with his father. It wasn't perhaps surprising he was on the reserved side.

  He also didn't shy away from the things being said about him—or the things he had done as a soldier. Unlike some, he didn't play the gallant hero. At least he didn't see himself that way. More interesting perhaps was that he didn't fluster when she talked him in circles to defeat his logic. In fact, there had been a few times when he'd snapped her logic.

  Truth be told, the more she thought about it, she had rather enjoyed the conversation. He would make a good husband for Araminth Skogholm, but he still declared that he wasn't seeking a wife. So Araminth would not be rescued as the target for Marcus Sousey's attention. Someone had to marry the man in the end. Sylvia was simply glad it wasn't Ester.

  The fortune teller had professed that the marriage would be a happy one with children. They would make good and loving parents, Sylvia had to agree—even if her brother acted barely older than a child himself at times. But to his sister, Andrew had a habit of bringing out their younger selves. They bickered like they always had. Ester had witnessed that a thousand times, so how could she be interested in him? It defied logic.

  And Andrew would be brought around on the Alexander issue. In the end, she always got her way.

  Ahead of her Ester laughed and Sylvia rolled her eyes. In reality, however, the idea of Ester and her brother married was growing on her. They were, after all, the two closest people to her and they would all be family—provided Andrew didn't botch this completely.

  Chapter 18

  A WAVE OF HEAT HIT Felix as he walked into the Black Swan. It was a gray and dismal day and he hadn't wanted to spend the evening alone. And compared to all the other choices for entertainment, the Black Swan grated less than others. There were near a hundred invitations sitting unopened on his hall table, and he was furtively ignoring all of them. If it didn't have to do with Lady Wenstropp selling that land, or ideally simply handing it over, he wasn't interested.

  Why anyone would want to attend all those events, he didn't understand. Granted, as a young buck, it would probably have been exciting. Even now, though, he was running into his father's old mistresses. His father's affairs had made him hesitant to have any of his own. He certainly didn't use the ballrooms of the ton as his hunting ground. Instead, he had pursued brave and intelligent women, who had things on their mind other than marriage.

  He certainly didn't pursue women in some notion to make them harm themselves. There had been something malicious about his father's interest in females. Perhaps his father would have been a better man if he had chosen battlefields to prove himself in rather than bedrooms.

  "Hello, there," said a beautiful woman with flaming-red hair, in a gown of the deepest red. "We are pleased you are joining us this evening. Is there anything in particular you are seeking?"

  "Just cards tonight, I think," he said and she graciously nodded. He didn't look down on these women. They did what they did to get by, and some of them managed to do it with grace. It was a hard world for some, and he didn't condone those of the soft world looking down on those of the hard one. He'd existed in the hard one himself for long enough—enough to see that entitlement meant very little when it came down to it. Entitlement, as with beauty, was the luck of the draw. It was never deserved.

  Letting his gaze search through the tables, they settled on young Andrew Bellworth, and he watched the young man play. He wasn't daring, rarely betting more than a few guineas. Not a man who sought his excitement through risk.

  The seat next to him vacated and Felix decided to take it. "Good evening, Mister Bellworth."

  "Lord Britheney," the young man said with a smile. His eyes betrayed it wasn't his first drink of the night. "How is your charming sister?"

  "Charming as ever," Andrew said wryly. "You will be pleased to know she has entirely given up on you."

  "From my perspective, she made it clear from the start that she was fighting this prophecy tooth and nail," Felix stated.

  "Now she has set her sights on my friend. The poor thing is injured like a damned gazelle and Sylvia is ready to pounce."

  "Is she?"

  "Well, you know what I mean."

  No, Felix was fairly certain he didn't.

  "The problem," Andrew sighed, "is that she usually gets what she wants. You put a blockage in her way and she will find some way around it. I usually just give in. That sounds bad, doesn't it, being utterly railroaded by my sister, but I would be lying if I said it wasn't true."

  "She has a strong will," Felix said.

  "Stubborn as a mule and forever insistent she is right. And poor Alexander will probably end up marrying her whether he wants to or not."

  Felix knew this quality in women—the fi
erce determination, the focus on their mission. He had seen it before—he had loved it before. "Huh," he said as the realization dawned on him. Obviously he hadn't observed it wrapped in crinoline and silk before. Miss Sylvia Bellworth wasn't as wise to the hardships of the world as some of the women he had known.

  "But Ester," Andrew continued, not really seeming to need much input into this conversation. "Now she is reasonable. And so pretty. She always was, but I never really noticed it before."

  "How goes her pursuit of Marcus Sousey?"

  "Well, I hope she is wise enough to put that aside," Andrew said sharply. "Perhaps she is too innocent to see him for what he really is. Do you think so?"

  "Why does your sister dislike me so much?"

  "She doesn't dislike you," Andrew said emphatically as if trying to soothe hurt feeling—when there really was none. This family was much too soft. "I don't know, actually," he continued as if the first sentence hadn't happened. "Perhaps because she can't manipulate you? She doesn't see it as manipulation. In her own mind, the things she does, she is convinced they are for your best. She has no understanding of how manipulative she is."

  "She is a survivor."

  "Huh?" Andrew asked, confusion marring his features.

  "Someone who always lands on her feet."

  "Someone always seems to avail their soft bodies for her to land on. That came out wrong. My sister does not land on soft bodies. Argh," he exhaled. "What I am saying is my sister is chaste, and wouldn't even contemplate not being so. Just to be clear."

  Never contemplate not being so. She was so self-contained, so assured of herself. A conflicting urge pierced through Felix—one he hated and equally found compelling. That offense at being told no, at being rejected. Perhaps it was that contrariness his father had always succumbed to. Felix had never felt it before. No one had ever driven him to feel it before, but he wanted to be contrary with Miss Bellworth. In some way for her to acknowledge him. He wanted to prove her wrong. These were not rational feelings.

  At this point, he should rise out of his seat and leave, and not deal with the Bellworth family again, but his feet didn't do so, because he couldn't quite bring himself to command it.