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

by Tabetha Waite

  “I wondered where your lovely wife might be hiding,” Jonathan drawled. “Although, this is Cornwall, so I imagine she could have her pick of desolate locations.”

  Elliot chuckled again. “I’m sure she would prefer that to Conner’s rather fussy nature of late. Our son is cutting teeth, so she has been spending most of her time in the nursery doing her best to console him.” His friend shot him a sly glance. “Speaking of which, when am I going to get to stand up at your wedding ceremony?”

  A gaunt-faced man in butler livery appeared in the doorway. “Dinner is served.”

  “Ah, wonderful.” Jonathan rose. “I’m famished.”

  Elliot merely laughed.

  They entered the grand dining hall to find a large, mahogany table filled with silver platters. In the center of the room, a strawberry-blonde woman stood speaking with a footman. She turned at their arrival and bestowed a pleasant smile on them both. To look at Lady Marwood, one wouldn’t have guessed that she was dealing with a grumpy baby, or that she had even given birth nearly six months previous. She still retained her slim waist and the delicate, porcelain features of a gently bred Englishwoman.

  She walked forward and held her hands out to Jonathan. “Oh, it is so good to see you again! When Elliot told me you were going to be here for a visit, I daresay you could have knocked me over with a feather! I never thought you would venture so far from London.”

  Jonathan shrugged. “I fear I was bamboozled.”

  She grinned. “That sounds like an intriguing story.”

  “Indeed.” Jonathan returned. He shoved his hands in his pockets, only to feel a slight slip of material. He withdrew the handkerchief he’d received from the fortune teller on the road. For a moment, he frowned at the strange symbol embroidered in gold thread, again feeling that strange pull.

  “What’s that?” Elliot asked.

  “Nothing,” Jonathan said, tucking the square of cloth back out of sight.

  ***

  Fanny was at the market bright and early the next morning. Thankfully, the incessant rain had lessened, and while the sky overhead was still gray and cloudy, at least there was nothing to cause slow travel on the way home. Unlike yesterday, when she was a muddy mess by the time she rolled into the yard. Her mother had shaken her head, while Agnes had smirked at the sludge coating Fanny’s boots and most of her hem.

  It hadn’t escaped Fanny’s notice that her younger sister had miraculously recovered from her “ailment.” Fanny could only lament the fact that Lilah was currently in Devonshire visiting their aunt and uncle, for she wouldn’t have left Fanny to fend for herself.

  However, their mother must have taken note as well, for Agnes was forced to join Fanny in the market for a second day in a row.

  Not that it made it any better for Fanny, for Agnes merely took her frustrations out on her. “I just know that my feet will be aching in an hour!” she whined. “We probably won’t sell one squash. All this work will be for naught. I don’t know why you insist on growing that infernal garden.”

  “You know why,” Fanny finally snapped. “Perhaps you might consider being a bit more charitable when it comes to helping out Mama and Papa.” She took a deep breath after her tirade and reminded herself, yet again, that she loved her sister dearly and that she should be grateful to spend this time with her.

  Thankfully, Agnes ceased her grumbling as a customer paused before their booth. After that, sales were steady until well into the morning. Around noon, Agnes turned to Fanny with a pout, “I’m hungry.” Fanny opened her mouth to reply, but Agnes cut her off before she had the chance. “And no, I can’t wait any longer.”

  “Very well,” Fanny removed her apron and tossed it down in annoyance. “I’ll grab something from the bakery.” She pointed at finger at her sister in warning. “But if any customers stop by, please try to be accommodating until I return.”

  “I shall endeavor to be the object of politeness.” Agnes batted her lashes sweetly.

  Fanny rolled her eyes at her sister’s dramatics, but she took her leave.

  The bakery was rather crowded, so Fanny had to wait longer than normal. After she gathered her items, she rushed to get back to the cart, worried that Agnes might have gotten herself into some sort of havoc in her absence.

  A movement in the corner of her eye abruptly caught her attention, and she looked away from the path. Her heel twisted on a stay stone and she pitched forward. The package she was carrying flew out of her grasp as she landed with a splat on the soggy ground — effectively showering mud on the pristine black boots before her.

  A long-suffering, masculine sigh fell on her ears before she was offered a hand. “And to think I just had those shined this morning.”

  Her face instantly heated with embarrassment as she ignored his offering and scrambled to her feet on her own. “I’m…terribly sorry, sir…” she stammered, only to find her apology fade away when she glanced up at his face. Her jaw went slack. Before her stood the most handsome man she’d ever seen. While he might have been even more attractive with a smile instead of that particularly sour expression, he was still rather appealing with his striking, green eyes and a wealth of dark hair visible beneath his hat.

  “I’m sure you are,” he drawled as he turned away, effectively dismissing her.

  Fanny gasped in indignation, his temporary attractiveness fading away. For a gentleman, he was sadly lacking in manners.

  She brushed off the worst of the mud from her frock, retrieved her purchase from the ground, and practically shoved it at a gaping Agnes as she walked over to the cart. In her frustration, Fanny grabbed the first thing her hand came in contact with and turned back to the stranger with the sole purpose of sending him on his way. “Can I interest you in a…” She glanced down at the item in her hand and groaned inwardly, although she kept a perfectly neutral expression on her face when she said, “Rhubarb?”

  His lips twitched. “No, thank you.” To her surprise, he extended a white square of linen to her. “You have a little…” He touched his chin.

  Fanny mirrored his actions and was further mortified when her fingers touched a glob of mud. Face flaming, she nearly snatched the handkerchief from him and wiped her face. She was about to hand the soiled linen back to him when she glanced down and noticed a strange pattern embroidered in gold thread. “What an unusual design,” she murmured, tracing the symbol with her fingertip.

  “Indeed.” Instantly, it was removed from her grasp and tucked out of sight.

  She frowned at his curious response, but she had no time to remark upon it as another voice entered the conversation. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized the stranger wasn’t alone.

  “Miss Fanny Grouseman, Miss Agnes.” Sir Elliot lightly cleared his throat. “Might I present my good friend, just arrived from London, Lord Jonathan Castleford?”

  Fanny felt the blood drain from her face as Agnes quickly reached out a hand and offered a brilliant smile. This was Sir Elliot’s houseguest? She just stopped herself from groaning aloud. Truly, could this day not get any worse? She offered the briefest of curtsies, and murmured, “Good day, my lord.”

  “Is it?” he returned dryly, those green eyes mocking.

  Fanny clenched her fists. She barely refrained from narrowing her eyes at his loathsome attitude. She gave him her most winning smile and said, “We really shouldn’t detain you any longer.”

  Rather of being insulted at her not-so-subtle dismissal, Lord Castleford merely offered a formal bow and purred, “A pleasure, Miss Grouseman.” He touched the brim of his hat to her sister. “Miss Agnes.”

  With that, he walked away.

  Chapter Three

  “I must say, you were right, Elliot. The townspeople of Polperro are absolutely charming. I can’t believe I ever doubted you.” Jonathan couldn’t keep a note of ridicule out of his voice as he dodged an orange seller in his path.

  “If you are referring to Miss Grouseman,” Elliot returned with a notable smile in his v
oice as he followed Jonathan throughout the rest of the bustling marketplace. “I think you may have baited her somewhat, for she has always been the essence of politeness to me.”

  Jonathan snorted, but then found a slight frown creasing his brow as the fortune teller’s words abruptly returned to taunt him. “I believe that you are pure of heart. Don’t make me regret my decision to put a measure of faith in you.” He sighed heavily. “You’re right, of course.” He removed his hat and shoved a hand through his dark hair. “I’m not usually such a beast. I daresay I’m taking my frustration out on everyone else when Nelson and this entire farce is what is truly wearing on my nerves. I don’t appreciate being taken for a fool.” He turned to Elliot. “Then again, you have to admit that Miss Grouseman was also a bit…” Intriguing, lovely, spirited…“Infuriating.”

  “Well, she didn’t exactly make the best first impression by falling in the mud at your feet,” Elliot pointed out. “She likely preferred angst in order to cover up her embarrassment.”

  Again, Jonathan sighed. “It appears we were both out of sorts today.”

  “No doubt,” Elliot agreed. “At least we can take care of one issue. Let us not delay any longer and see just what it is that Nelson is offering you.”

  ***

  A few hours later, Jonathan and Elliot stood in front of a dilapidated tin mine — if one could even call it that — in St. Austell. The crumbling, stone structure wasn’t even safe to explore, much less work. It was obvious that it had been some time since this particular location had seen any profits.

  Jonathan shook his head. It was what he had been expecting all along, so he wasn’t really surprised. Angry, yes, but not surprised. He began to stalk back to his horse.

  “Where are you going?” Elliot called after him.

  “Back to London,” Jonathan growled. “So I can pummel the living daylights out of that son of a—”

  “Don’t be so hasty. Perhaps all is not lost.”

  Jonathan paused in his tirade and spun around to see that Elliot was studying the structure with a critical eye. “You can’t possibly mean that this pile of stones is worth salvaging?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Not for tin,” Elliot said, as he turned to him. “But clay.”

  Jonathan set his hands on his hips and reluctantly glared at the mine as Elliot continued his argument.

  “Some of the most prosperous mines in Cornwall, such as Wheal Busy, are near Gwennap on the coast, while the rest of the counties are struggling to keep their tin mines afloat. Here in St. Austell, they have seen a steep incline in revenue with clay excavation.” He waved a hand at the structure. “Granted, it would take some time and effort to get this back into working condition.” He lifted a brow. “The question is, are you willing to stay long enough to give it a try?”

  Jonathan was silent as he considered Elliot’s suggestion. Once again, Madame Zeta’s words came back to haunt him. Remember that whatever it is you may seek, you shall find it if you will only be true to yourself…

  He crossed his arms over his midsection and considered the possibility in front of him with a new light. With a sigh, he said, “I’ll give it a fortnight, the day of the ball. By then, we should at least know if it could even be operational.”

  His friend grinned. “Then let’s go gather a crew and start digging.”

  ***

  “Irritable, annoying, arrogant…” Fanny mumbled as she dug around a row of potatoes in her garden the next morning. With each one she pulled from the soil, she added a new endearment for Lord Castleford. “Rogue, libertine, high-handed—”

  “Anyone I know?”

  Fanny jumped at the sound of that familiar drawl. She lifted her head to see the very man who had kept her from sleeping soundly the night before, and who continued to plague her thoughts that day. Lord Castleford was standing not ten feet from her, yet she had been so preoccupied that she hadn’t heard him approach. His physical appearance now was just as upsetting as her dreams, but for an entirely different reason. With just the memory of his character at the market, she had been able to tell herself that he wasn’t quite so handsome as she’d remembered.

  Standing in front of her now, she had to admit that he was only too appealing.

  His broad shoulders strained against the material of his jacket, his breeches hugging those muscular thighs that had likely seen many an hour in the saddle.

  But it was those glittering green eyes assessing her so directly that unnerved her so.

  She resisted the urge to fan herself. Why is it suddenly so warm?

  “Lord Castleford.” She stood up and brushed the dirt from her apron. “What are you doing here?”

  “Straight to the point. I like that,” he murmured dryly. He cleared his throat and added more clearly, “I came by to apologize for my behavior yesterday, and to offer a personal invitation.”

  Fanny eyed him steadily, trying to ascertain if he was being sincere. When his expression appeared free of any mockery, she replied, “While I appreciate your candor, my lord, there was no need to make a special trip all the way here—” She frowned. “How did you even know where I lived?”

  He shrugged. “It wasn’t that difficult to find you. It’s a small village.”

  She crossed her arms, her lips twitching. “Sir Marwood told you, didn’t he?”

  “Indeed.” Lord Castleford grinned, and suddenly his face was transformed. The trees, grass, and even the budding blooms around them instantly brightened, as if nature itself was affected by his charming appeal.

  The warmth she’d felt earlier abruptly rushed between her legs. Her body was betraying her, even if her mind was perfectly rational.

  No doubt, the ladies of London were similarly affected.

  With that thought, Fanny lifted her chin, determined not to fall under his spell. “I accept your apology, Lord Castleford, but I really must get back to work if I’m to get anything done today.”

  She walked over to the well and began to draw a bucket of water to wash the potatoes that she would take to the market. She thought he would take the hint and leave, but when the slight shadow of his presence fell across the stone structure, she knew that he’d followed her instead. A trickle of perspiration trailed down the middle of her spine that had nothing to do with the warmth of the bright, spring day.

  “Can I assist you?” he asked.

  Fanny glanced at him. He stood with his hands in his trouser pockets, appearing completely at ease. With the sun shining behind him, he looked tall and intimidating, and absolutely… seductive. She cleared her throat. “Thank you, but I can manage.”

  He opened his mouth, as if to reply, but Agnes came running around the corner of the house. Fanny had never been more relieved for the distraction of her younger sister.

  “Oh, Fanny! It’s the best news…!” Her sister waved a piece of vellum in her grasp, but upon seeing Lord Castleford, she came to a halt and offered him her most winning smile. “My lord.” She curtsied deeply. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

  He inclined his head. “Miss Agnes.”

  Agnes continued to grin, so Fanny wiped her damp hands on her apron and attempted to divert her sister’s fascination. “What do you have there?” She gestured to the paper in her grasp.

  Agnes held it out to her. “Oh, it’s the most glorious news! Sir Marwood is holding a ball in celebration of Lord Castleford’s visit!” She turned her sly gaze on him. “But our invitation was hand delivered by the man of honor himself.”

  Fanny read it and then handed it back to Agnes. She turned to Lord Castleford, again feeling that fluttering in her midsection. “That was kind of you, my lord. It’s not often our modest village gets the opportunity to host a man of such stature.” She turned back to the well. “Of course, I must decline, but—”

  “Fanny!” Agnes gasped. “You can’t be serious!”

  Fanny lifted her bucket of water and glared at her sister, saying firmly, “I have duties to attend to. Besides, you
know very well that I have two left feet when it comes to dancing—”

  “But if you don’t attend,” Agnes protested. “Mama and Papa surely won’t let me go!”

  Fanny pinched the bridge of her nose, and prayed for patience, knowing that a tantrum was about to ensue. “Agnes—”

  “If dancing is your only impediment,” Lord Castleford interrupted smoothly, “I would be glad to teach you.”

  ***

  Jonathan could have kicked himself, but the words were already out of his mouth, so he couldn’t very well rescind the offer. Blast! What unforeseen force had even made him say such a thing? Surely, it wasn’t because of the way the breeze caught a stray curl of Fanny’s dark hair and set it across her forehead, making him itch to brush it aside, or the intelligence that he could read in those dark eyes.

  But even if Miss Grouseman was undeniably beautiful, it was quite out of character for him to be so forthcoming with such an offer.

  And yet…

  As she turned to regard him, he had to admit that the opportunity to hold her in his arms wasn’t entirely without allure. He swallowed. Suddenly, the desire for her to accept his proposal was all he ever wanted.

  “Again, thank you, my lord,” she said evenly. “I’ll consider it, if only for Agnes’ sake.”

  “Of course.” He felt a brief rush of disappointment. “Send word if you change your mind.”

  Jonathan rode back toward Killigarth Manor with a perpetual frown. Then again, it wasn’t often that he was denied anything from the opposite sex. But was his pride the only issue here? His only purpose that morning had been to offer an olive branch for his behavior the day before and assuage some of his guilt, not to spend more time with the chit, yet he hadn’t hesitated when it came to offering to do so.

  The truth was Miss Grouseman was a complication that he didn’t need in his life.