Fortune's Wish (Fortunes of Fate Book 4)

by Eileen Richards

  “I insist my staff keep detailed records on everything related to the horse,” her father threw in.

  Victoria cringed at Father’s use of the word staff. She kept her gaze down, but couldn’t stop her hands from forming fists. She forced herself to relax. When she felt a bit more in control she glanced up to find Sir John watching her with an expression that she couldn’t quite make out. Was it pity? Had he seen her go rigid at her father’s words? None of this boded well. She forced her public mask back onto her face. He could think what he wanted, but he couldn’t prove anything.

  “Might I borrow this journal? I would love to fully read your entries about this very interesting horse,” Mr. Connells said with a gentle smile to her.

  “Of course! Of course. Whatever you need,” Father said.

  The gentlemen stood and Victoria rose. The meeting was over.

  Sir John bowed to them both. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Penwith. Miss Penwith. We shall review the journals as quickly as we can.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find everything in order,” Father said.

  “I’m sure we will.”

  “When might we expect a decision?”

  “Given the details—” Mr. Connells began.

  Sir John interrupted. “We should really review your records in detail, Mr. Penwith, but I don’t think our approval will take too very long.”

  Victoria narrowed her eyes at Sir John who now seemed determined to avoid her gaze where before he couldn’t seem to look away. The man was lying but why?

  “If you both will excuse us, we have another call to make,” Sir John said.

  They left the room and the house. Victoria heard and felt the door close behind them and silence draped the room like a shroud.

  “That was interesting.” The tone of her father’s voice gave her pause.

  Victoria crossed the room to gather the tea cups and plates that the gentlemen had used. She placed them on the tray then retrieved the journal that was left behind. “I don’t know what you mean. I thought it went well.”

  “Sir John could not take his eyes off of you.”

  “There is nothing there, Father. He is the brother of a friend.”

  “Still, his interest might be useful in obtaining our entry into the Club.”

  “Is it so important that you be part of the Jockey Club?”

  “How can you ask such a question? To stand shoulder to shoulder with that level of society? It will open the door to many more opportunities for us.”

  Us? She doubted it. “What would you have me do?”

  “Encourage his interest. Learn what you can about this process. See if you can obtain his approval.”

  She glared at her father. “Would you have me bed him as well, Father?”

  “Don’t be coarse. I doubt it will come to that.” He crossed the room to return to his library. “See that the maids clean this up.”

  Victoria watched him leave, shock washing over her like an icy downpour. His expectation was clear. She was to obtain Sir John’s approval at any cost.

  Sir John stormed out of the house with Connells at his heels. Penwith was a bully. His treatment of Victoria had Sir John wanting to pound his fists into the man’s face. It was all he could do to control his reaction to the slimy, bombastic man.

  He climbed into the carriage and plopped down into the leather seat. Connells followed after him, watching carefully.

  “Well that was interesting,” Connells said.

  “What that Penwith is bullying his daughter? Or that he is not involved in his horses and treats his daughter like a servant. Did you catch the staff comment?”

  “Why do you care?”

  Sir John scrubbed his face with his hand. “I don’t know. I like her, I guess.”

  “This has become more than just an interview for membership for you.”

  He sighed. “Yes. I met Victoria three years ago when I was last in Beetham. I’ve not been able to forget her.”

  “If you think this will sway my decision about Penwith’s membership in the Jockey Club, think again.”

  “Then it’s good that I have no say in the decision. Given what I saw in that room, I would deny him immediately. He gave no credit for the work she has done. It should be her we give entry too. She is the one who has earned it.”

  “While women have been members, it is frowned upon, Sir John.”

  “I know.” He glanced out the window as the carriage pulled onto the lane that would take them back to his sister’s house. This interview opened his eyes to a great many things about Victoria Penwith and none of them he liked. It also made him long to grab Victoria and take her away from this. But he doubted she would leave her precious horses. It was all she had. “What are the next steps?”

  “I intend to review the journal but more out of curiosity than anything else. There is really no reason to deny Penwith entry into the Jockey Club at this point.”

  “Hold off for a while.”

  “So, you have more time to court Miss Penwith? You don’t need me for that.”

  There was something else going on and he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. His gut was telling him to take care. “Once you leave, I’ll have no reason to stay as well.”

  “You want me to delay a decision to give you more time to court a man’s daughter? Are you mad?”

  Perhaps he was—a bit. “Just trust me. My gut is telling me there something more going on than we have seen.”

  “There always is. The man is a bombastic ass. We have a club filled with men like him.”

  “I can’t explain it, Connells. Just stay the decision until the race at Kendal.”

  “That’s two weeks away. I’m not sure I can delay that long, especially if Penwith is familiar with the normal process.”

  “Find something to use as an excuse. There’s must be something in that journal.”

  Connells sighed loudly. “Fine. I’ll do what I can, but if nothing comes up out of those journals, my decision is made and I’m leaving for Newcastle.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sir John settled back into the leather squabs and let his thoughts take over. Victoria was such a strong woman. It had been so painful to see her forced into a subservient role. Yet, he knew her pain. Hadn’t he been faced with the same when his father was alive? Hell, he’d treated his sisters worse.

  Seeing Victoria’s reaction had hit him hard. He’d done that to Anne. He’d treated her as no better than a servant. Less than one, if he were honest. He’d thrown them out to make their way without any thought to their safety. How could Anne had forgiven him for that? Yet she had. And so, had Juliet and Sophia. Once again, he was reminded that he didn’t deserve such easy acceptance back into the family.

  He also realized that he had to save Victoria Penwith.

  Chapter 3

  “Come to the fair. It will be fun,” Sir John Townsend muttered to himself as he stood at the makeshift entrance to the ragtag county fair that was erected in a field somewhere between Beetham and Milnthorpe. People of all sorts passed through the entrance to enter the maze of tents and stalls. They came on foot, by cart, and carriage.

  Smaller stalls and tents surrounded a much larger one in the center. Cheers and groans echoed in the morning air. It must be where the wrestling took place. He was tempted to join the men in the tent with a pint and a friendly bet, but thought better of it. The last thing he needed was to fall back into the muck that gambling had made of his life.

  “What is the plan, my dear?” Matthews said as he took Juliet’s arm. “I know you want to shop.”

  “I see a stall with some ribbons that might suit Sophia for her birthday then I’m having my fortune told,” Juliet said. “Madam Zeta is here. She’s famous throughout England.”

  “Townsend?”

  “He’s coming with me,” Juliet said. “We are meeting up with Miss Penwith before the fortune teller.”

  He groaned. “God, not shopping. Anything but shopping, Juliet.”


  “You were the one who stated that you wanted to woo Miss Penwith. In order to do that, you must spend time with her.” Juliet gave him a cheeky grin. “I’m your chaperone.”

  Matthews clasped his shoulder in solidarity. “You are welcome to peruse the livestock with me. I could use another opinion on a new horse for Juliet.”

  “I do not want a horse, Tony. You know I hate them,” Juliet declared.

  “I live in hope you will change your mind.”

  Juliet shook her head. “Not likely. John, if you plan to do any wooing, we’d better get on.”

  “Why does this sound more like work than fun?”

  “Because it is work. But the rewards are worth it. If you get discouraged or need an escape, I’ll be over there where the rest of the men are.”

  John followed his eye to the edge of the large flat area to where the race track was set up. “I’ll join you shortly.”

  “Come on then, John. There are ribbons to look at.”

  John followed his sister into the crowds of ladies gathered around carts filled with all sorts of wares. This was not going to be fun. He detested shopping, but he was resigned to heed Juliet’s advice. She knew Victoria better than he.

  The smell of something delicious wafted by his nose. His stomach rumbled as he glanced around looking for the source of the amazing aroma. He found the food carts.

  “Why don’t you look at ribbons while I acquire one of those pies over there.”

  “You just ate breakfast!”

  “Yes, but they smell wonderful and if I have to look at ribbons, I’m afraid I’ll have to hand over my masculinity to Providence.”

  “Go on then. But you’ll catch up with me later for the fortune teller? We have a lady to woo.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  John stood watching Juliet joined the other ladies gathered around the ribbon vendor. People milled around the narrow pathways between the various areas of the fair and he had to push his way through towards where the food carts were.

  He followed the smell of food around the central tent until he found what he was looking for, a meat pie vendor. He purchased a pie, wrapped in paper, and wandered around while he ate it. The pie was tender, filled with potatoes, gravy and chunks of beef. He almost groaned with pleasure. He purchased a glass of ale to wash it down with.

  His appetite satisfied, John pushed through the crowds towards the carts where he’d left Juliet earlier. As he searched the crowds for his sister, he spotted Victoria.

  Suddenly his heart thumped hard in his chest. She was laughing with Juliet as they looked at ribbons from one of the vendors. She was dressed in a cream colored gown, brown pelise, and simple bonnet. The woman could wear a sack and he’d be lost for words, which made this wooing business a bit of a jumble. He approached them quietly.

  “I see you found a friend, Juliet.”

  “John, I didn’t see you there.”

  Juliet should have been an actress. Her tone spoke of none of the plans she’d made for helping him court Miss Penwith. He turned to the lady and bowed.

  “Good morning, Miss Penwith.”

  “Sir John.” She set the ribbons back onto the cart.

  “What are you ladies up to?”

  Juliet stepped in with a rush of words. “I’m trying to convince Miss Penwith to visit the fortune teller, Madame Zeta. She is well known in England.”

  “You actually believe in this fortune nonsense, Miss Penwith?”

  “Says the man who was at the Fairy Steps the other day. Did you get your fairy experience, Sir John?”

  He laughed. “That and more, Miss Penwith.”

  He delighted in the blush coloring her cheeks. He loved sparring with her. She was quick witted and delightfully sarcastic. “I think it would be fun to hear what Madame Zeta has to say about the future. Lord knows I could use some guidance.”

  “I doubt that Madame Zeta will offer much in the way of guidance. It’s all tricks and nonsense.” Miss Penwith said in that practical way she had.

  “Perhaps your fortune will surprise you. Perhaps she’ll predict something wonderful.”

  A pained look flitted across Miss Penwith’s face. If he’d not been studying her so closely, he’d have missed it. He longed to snatch back the teasing words.

  “This is just a ploy to solicit money out of us while telling us things we’ve already revealed,” Miss Penwith said.

  John nodded. “You are probably correct. We should test that theory.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “We go have our fortunes told, but we reveal nothing personal. If we don’t give anything away, she shouldn’t be able to tell us anything significant.”

  Juliet grinned. “Excellent idea, John. We can then compare our results afterwards over tea. What do you say, Miss Penwith? Shall we do it?”

  Miss Penwith looked around, still a bit uncomfortable with the idea.

  “Please join us, Miss Penwith. It’s all in good fun, and somewhat scientific.” He fought to keep the begging tone from his voice.

  She rolled her eyes. “If you insist.”

  “I do indeed. I cannot wait to hear what our fortunes will be.”

  “Oh, I just remembered, I won’t be able to have tea afterwards,” Miss Penwith said. “I must check with our stable manager about the race today.”

  “Your father doesn’t handle that?” Juliet said.

  She shook her head. “He will be too busy with other things.”

  “I have a horse in the race today as well, Miss Penwith,” John said. “I’ll be happy to walk with you to the stables afterward.”

  “I saw your name on the list. I believe Tychee beat your horse by several lengths in Lancaster, if I recall correctly. I’m surprised you wished to race against her again.”

  He laughed. “Indeed, she did, but today is a different race. Shall we wager on the outcome?”

  Juliet elbowed him hard. “Ouch, Juliet. What was that for?”

  “Ladies do not wager on horses.” She turned to Victoria. “Ignore my brother, Miss Penwith. He has no sense of propriety.”

  “What sort of wager, Sir John?”

  Sir John fought to keep the grin on his face. “It wouldn’t be proper to take money from a lady, so how about we wager an experience?”

  She bit her lip as she thought.

  “Miss Penwith, you do not have to do this,” Juliet said softly as she glared at him.

  “I will take that wager. If I win, you have to muck stalls at Rosethorne.”

  “And if I win, you have to go riding with me.”

  “John!”

  “I’ll take that wager,” Miss Penwith said as she held out her hand. “Shall we shake on it?’

  Sir John took her hand in his and kissed it instead of shaking it. Lemon and something else teased his nose. He wanted to linger but she snatched her hand from his grasp.

  “I look forward to watching you muck my stalls, Sir John.”

  “Not as much as I look forward to our time together, Miss Penwith.”

  She blushed and fussed with her reticule. Perhaps, irritating was a good thing. Had they been alone, he would have pursued the conversation given her reaction.

  “Shall we go and have our fortunes read?” Juliet’s voice broke through the awkwardness. “Please?”

  “Lead the way, dear sister. I’m anxious to hear if Madame Zeta has better luck than the wishes at the Fairy Steps.” He held out his arm. “Miss Penwith? Shall we?”

  She reluctantly placed her hand lightly on his arm.

  They strolled to the garish tent at the edge of the vendor stalls, but well away from the wrestling tent to avoid the noise. Gold braid dangled from the edge of the heavy red fabric and brightly colored carpet lined the ground around it. A dark-skinned man dressed in gypsy garb stood at the door of the tent collecting money from the queue of people, mostly women, waiting for their fortune.

  “How much do you think it is?” Juliet asked.

  “
Can’t be more than a couple of shillings, I should think.” Miss Penwith said.

  “Leave it to me, ladies,” he said pulling his coin purse from a pocket. “How much, sir.”

  “Three shillings a piece.”

  He counted out the coins and handed them over.

  The man pocketed the coins and handed them each a card with a number. He looked down at his. Seven. “My lucky number.”

  Juliet held up hers. “I have forty-one.”

  “I have eleven.” Miss Penwith flashed her card.

  “I guess I have to wait longer.” Juliet whined.

  “We can trade numbers, if you want. I’ll give up my lucky card.”

  “No trading numbers, sir.” The garishly dressed man opened the draped fabric that covered the entrance. “Please step inside. Madame Zeta will call you when it’s your turn.”

  Inside, the tent was lit with lanterns scattered around the room. There was a thick wall of carpets hanging down dividing the tent into two rooms. The smell of incense tickled his nose.

  “What do you think Madam Zeta looks like?”

  “Juliet, why do we care?” John inquired.

  “I don’t know. I was simply trying to make conversation.”

  “Mrs. Sanderson has already done it. She says Madame Zeta is quite interesting,” Miss Penwith whispered.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know, but she was quite pleased with her fortune.”

  “Perhaps she was told what she longed to hear,” he added softly.

  The curtain covering the opening to the other chamber parted and a tall, dark-skinned woman stepped through. She was bloody gorgeous with her odd colored eyes. Sir John hoped his mouth didn’t fall open.

  “You, sir. You are next.”

  “Lucky seven works every time.” He grinned as he passed his sister and Miss Penwith. He stepped inside the smaller chamber. He placed his numbered card in her hand as he passed.

  Candlelight flickered on the table where two decks of cards sat.

  “Please take a seat.”

  Sir John waited until Madame Zeta took her seat then sat on the stool across from her. She picked up each deck and shuffled it before placing it face down on the table in front of him. “Take Two cards from this deck.” She lightly touched the cards on his left.