The girl's eyes rolled back in her head as another loud, dramatic sigh escaped her. Pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, the girl finally fluttered her eyes open. "Alyssa? Is that you?"
A sound of pure frustration erupted from beneath the black drape. "Stop this immediately."
Rocking back on his heels, Ian fought back a smile as he watched these two women bicker in hissed whispers.
"Play along," rasped the younger girl from her pros' trate position as she flicked a glance at him. "He's watching."
"He's also fastening/" pointed out the widow, her words vibrating with exasperation.
Ian felt the widow's attention shift onto him.
"I apologize for my sister. Sometimes she is taken with... fits and..."
"Alyssa!" exclaimed the young girl, pushing up into a sitting position.
"... is overcome with the need to do completely foolish things," finished the lady firmly.
Sister, eh? Then it was likely that the woman wrapped in black widow's weeds was hardly more than a girl herself. "Quite ail right, my lady," he assured her. Rising, he held out a hand to assist the widow to her feet before reaching down to help the younger sister up as well. "Allow me to introduce myself," Ian began, bowing to both of the women. "Mr. Ian Fortune at your service."
Deliberately pausing, Ian waited for the lady to identify herself. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," the widow replied smoothly. "I appreciate your assistance and apologize once more on behalf of my sister for delaying you."
Amazement filled Ian as he watched the woman curl her hand around her sister's arm and begin to drag her away. Why, she wasn't even going to introduce herself!
Pushing good manners to the edge, Ian stepped in front of them, halting their escape. "I'm sorry, but I didn't hear your name."
"I don't believe I offered it."
The black widow's tart response only made him want to discover her identity even more. The feeling inside of him that he knew her, that they'd met before, grew stronger. "Perhaps we could correct that oversight now."
"Her name is Alyssa Porter—Lady Alyssa Porter," exclaimed the girl, "and I'm her sister, Lady Calla Porter."
"Her sister-in-law, you mean," Ian corrected.
"No, my sister."
Frowning slightly, Ian couldn't understand how the two girls could be sisters by birth and still have the same last name when one of them had obviously been married and was now widowed. "How can that be..."
"Lady Alyssa Porter... Hee ... Ha... Heimel," the lady stuttered.
"Your husband's familial name was Heehaheimel?" Lifting a brow, Ian smiled at the widow. "Rather unusual."
"I misspoke. My name is Lady Alyssa Porter Heimel, Baroness... Greenald."
"Greenald?" Ian turned the name over on his tongue. "Can't say that I've ever heard of that barony."
"My husband's family was from far north," she replied vaguely. "Not many people have heard of it."
"I consider myself among them," Ian murmured, tapping his ringers against his pant leg. "However, that doesn't detract from the pleasure of your acquaintance, Lady Greenald."
Thank you," she replied. "I wish to apologize for stumbling over my name, it's just that I've only lost my husband recently—"
"—and it was a love match," the younger sister interrupted.
Ian's lips twitched as he saw the widow's fingers tighten upon the girl's arm. "Indeed it was..."
"... which only makes it more tragic..."
This time the lady in black plowed onward as if the younger chit hadn't uttered a word."... and since our time together was cut so horribly short, it's still difficult to speak of it. That's also why it's so easy for my sister to forget to introduce me by my married name."
"Perfectly understandable," Ian murmured. And it was. But he didn't believe a word of it. What he couldn't fathom though was why the widow was lying through her teeth. Perhaps she had a scandal in her past she chose to hide beneath her black drapings.
"Yes, that's right," chimed in the smiling blonde at his side. "My brother-in-law, God rest his soul," she said, pausing to make the sign of the cross, "was killed in a terrible, horrid, simply awful accident when he—"
"I believe we've bored this fine gentleman enough for one day." Stepping to the side, Lady Greenald tugged her sister along with her as she maneuvered herself around Ian.
"Not at all," Ian denied, finding it amusing to watch the young girl dig in her feet. "Perhaps you might enjoy some company as you stroll around the park."
The horrified gasp that came from beneath the black veil was at odds with the expression of pure delight that spread across the young girl's face.
"No!"
"Yes!"
The two women turned to look at each other. "Calla, dear," the widow murmured, though the hardness in the endearment left much to be desired, "you know we can't trouble Mr. Fortune and ask—
"But we didn't ask, he offered," protested Lady Calla.
"The lady is quite right," Ian clarified, stepping for-ward and holding out his arm. "It would be my pleasure."
Another gasp sounded beneath the veil. "While I appreciate your offer, I'm afraid we must decline."
"But, Alyssa—"
"Ah, but I insist. Two young ladies such as yourselves should have a proper escort," Ian replied, reluctant to part ways as these two ladies had proved far more interesting than the thought of continuing his daily constitutional alone.
"As a widow, I am well accustomed to escorting my self," Lady Greenald assured him.
"Undoubtedly." Ian offered her his best smile. "Then it shall be a rare treat indeed that you will have company on your stroll."
Offering his arm to the younger girl, Ian couldn't hold back his triumphant smile toward the elder sister. "It would appear that your sister would enjoy the company." His smile spread into a wide grin. "Come now, my lady, and be a good sport. After all, I do have an-other arm," he finished, offering the intriguing widow his free arm.
For a moment, he wondered if she would refuse his after, but when the stiffness left her posture, Ian knew he'd won this skirmish.
Slipping her hand around the curve of his forearm, the widow murmured, "It is most kind of you to accompany us."
Ian laughed aloud, "Well, I hardly left you with any choice other than to accept my escort."
"I was trying to be polite," the widow murmured, her vowels rounded in amused tones. "However, I see now my efforts were wasted."
"Indeed. I far prefer tart responses over polite mur-murings."
'Then you've picked the perfect companions."
Another laugh escaped him. Before he could respond to the entertaining Lady Greenald, Ian paused as Lady Calla asked, "Are you dreadfully wealthy, Mr. Fortune?"
"Calla!"
Lady Greenald's horrified gasp mingled with Ian's bellow of laughter.
"What is it, Alyssa? Why are you always snipping at me?"
"How could you ask such a bold questionf Lady Greenald asked in a low furious voice.
"It's quite all right," Ian assured his companion. "In tact, I applaud Lady Calla her boldness and will gladly answer her question." Not giving the lady in black an opportunity to say anything farther, Ian turned his attention to the girl waiting patiently for a reply. "To answer your question, Lady Calla, I consider myself comfortably wealthy, not dreadfully wealthy."
Tilting her head to the side, Lady Calla considered his response for a moment. "Comfortably wealthy sounds delightful... especially since we're dreadfully poor."
"Calla," groaned Lady Greenald. "We aren't poor, my dear. We're gently impoverished, if you must know, but it is hardly the sort of thing that one speaks about."
"On my honor as a gentleman, your revelation is safe with me." Seeking to ease the lady's discomfort, he confided, "You see, I was born into poverty as well, but my rather began a business that I have since expanded and, in so doing, have improved my situation greatly."
"A business, you say? It's tunny
that you should mention that because my sister—"
Lady Greenald broke into the conversation. "I think that's quite enough about our personal business, Calla. A lady needs to keep a few secrets."
"It keeps her intriguing to gentlemen," assured Ian.
"Well, it's no secret that I hope my sister's business makes so much money that we're able to purchase one of those homes someday," Calla finished, pointing toward the large elegant townhouses surrounding the park.
"Perhaps you will," Ian said encouragingly. "Do you see that gray townhouse next to the brick one?"
"The large stone one?" Lady Calla nodded. "Yes."
"That's my home," Ian told her, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. "That's what all my hard work purchased. I know that most gentlemen feel that one shouldn't dirty their hands with honest labor, but I'll let you in on a little known secret" Bending close, he whis-pered, "It feels wonderful to know that you earned something that beautiful. No one gave it to me, so no one can ever take it away. No, I worked for it and now it's mine."
"And how do you feel about Ladies marrying well in order to improve their situation?" Calla asked softly.
Taken aback by the question, Ian hesitated to respond. Finally, he admitted, "I believe it is often a wise path to take. After all, as a gentlewoman, you have frightfully few ways in which to improve your situation other than marriage."
"Not if you're clever," murmured Lady Greenald.
Such a sentiment from a well-bred lady was fascinating. Narrowing his eyes, Ian could barely make out the shape of Lady Greenald's face beneath the heavy black veil. "I suspect, my lady, that you possess far more intriguing secrets than most ladies of my acquaintance,"
"Perhaps, Mr. Fortune."
Glancing up from the veil draped features, Ian felt a surge of disappointment to see that they'd walked the entire path around the park. "Might I escort you home?"
"No, thank you, sir," the widow stated firmly.
"But, Alyssa—"
Walking around to her sister's side, Lady Greenald insisted, "It is best if we part company with Mr. Fortune here... rather than at our home."
Lady Calla's eyes widened before she nodded fiercely. "We can't have you home."
Yet another secret. Bowing slightly, Ian reluctantly bid his companions farewell. "It has been a most delightful afternoon, ladies. Perhaps we shall meet again."
"Perhaps," Lady Greenald murmured. "Good day, Mr. Fortune."
Tugging her younger sister after her, Lady Greenald strode from the park.
"Now, aren't you glad I pretended to taint in front of him?" Calla asked brightly.
"Calla! Shush! He'll hear you!" the widow admonished.
A huge grin split Ian s race as he watched them walk away.
* * *
"Calla, what were you thinking?" Aryssa whispered, all too aware of Ian's gaze boring into her back.
"I thought he was utterly charming." Calla's expression filled with pleasure. "In fact, I think he'd be just perfect for you. He's amusing and good-natured and completely glorious to behold!" A sigh escaped her. "Perfect."
Unfortunately, Alyssa couldn't deny any of her sister's claims. Ian was amusing and good-natured... and completely glorious to behold. She'd had a delightful time in his company. "Even if that were true," Alyssa began, not wanting to encourage her sister more by agreeing with her, "the feet remains that Ian Fortune could threaten all we've worked to accomplish. If he found out that Lady Alyssa Heimel... I still can't believe I picked a silly name like that... if he were to discover that she doesn't exist and that I am in fact Madam Zora, he would expose me in a heartbeat and destroy our only means of support."
"But he was so nice," Calla protested.
"He was nice to Lady Greenald and Lady Calla, not to Madam Zora!"
This time Calla's sigh lay heavily between them. "Don't you wish that we still were Lady Calla and Lady Alyssa and that Madam Zora had never been born?"
Every minute of every day. Yet Alyssa couldn't speak her thoughts aloud. No, she could never tell her sister that she wished more than anything that she had run into Mr. Ian Fortune when she'd been Lady Alyssa Porter, that he had been taken with her, courted her, and then married her in a nice, neat little fairy-tale package.
There was no use bemoaning a fete that would never come to pass.
Instead, Alyssa said briskly, "Whether I do or do not is irrelevant. AH that matters is who we are today and who we will be tomorrow." She lifted up her veil to smile at her sister. "And tomorrow I shall be Madam Zora!" Alyssa finished in a heavily accented voice.
Responding as Alyssa had hoped, Calla laughed gaily. "Perhaps you will find a way to weave a spell around Mr. Fortune and have him fall desperately in love with you." She sighed dramatically. "Being comfortably wealthy would be lovely."
"I can't disagree with that thought," Alyssa replied. Though, truthfully, Ian's money hardly mattered. It was the man himself who intrigued her far too much for her comfort.
* * *
Still smiling after his encounter with the two mysterious sisters, Ian turned on his heel and strolled toward his home. He'd only taken two steps when Peter called out to him.
"I see you've taken to consorting with widows and children now, Fortune," his friend said, staring pointedly after the young women.
Glancing over his shoulder, Ian shrugged lightly. "I merely accompanied them on their turn about the park."
"Who are they?"
"The child is Lady Calla Porter and her sister, Lady Alyssa Heimel, Baroness of Greenald."
"Porter... Porter," Peter murmured, his brows drawing together in concentration. "Ah, yes, now I remember them. I believe that is the familial name of the Earl of Tonneson. If I remember correctly, the title was recently passed down to Lord Michael Landery. A disagreeable, slovenly fellow if ever there was one."
"Recentlyr
"The former earl and his countess were known about town as adventurers. You know the sort. They head off for parts unknown to bring back all types of treasures for museums and collectors. I don't know what happened to them, but evidently they didn't return from their last grand adventure."
"And what of Baron Greenald? Have you ever heard of him?"
"Can't say I have."
"Nor I," Ian agreed, rubbing a finger along his jaw.
"Though there's nothing at all unusual about that. After all, we couldn't possibly know all of the minor peers running about." Peter nudged Ian's arm. "Still, if she is nobility, the widow might suit your purposes perfectly. If you're willing to wait until after her mourning period, she might make a fine bride." Lifting one brow, Peter continued, "And she is certainly tar more suitable than your little Gypsy."
"Indeed," Ian murmured, disturbed by the realization that Lady Greenald reminded him of Zora. That he would even compare the two women showed Ian all too clearly that the Gypsy had taken over his thoughts. Shaking his head, Ian tried to loosen the unnerving sensation.
"There you have it, then." Clapping a hand on Ian's shoulder, Peter smiled at him. "This baroness is the perfect solution, combining your odd attraction for the little Gypsy with the respectability of a title. A match made in Heaven."
"I only met the lady today and have yet to see her face, so don't be marrying me off quite so quickly," Ian murmured dryly.
"Why do you need to see her? I thought that all you cared about was her lineage. Have you gotten particular now?" Peter asked with a laugh. "Next thing I know you'll want to marry for love... then God help us all!"
"I shall try not to allow my sentimentality to cloud my better judgment." And even as he said it, Ian prayed it was true.
"That's reassuring." Waving his hand forward, Peter indicated that Ian precede him. "Now, why don't we head to your home and try to uncover who might know more about this widow of yours, eh?"
"I'm quite certain that a few glasses of port will enhance our thoughts," Ian returned, pushing aside his doubts. "Let's be off then, to uncover the mystery of the Ba
roness Greenald."
7
What have you uncovered for me?" demanded Lord Hammond.
"Your grandson..."
At Lord Hammond's glare, Jacob Fenwig shifted in his seat. "Rather... Mr. Fortune ..."
"Proceed," Lord Hammond said after one last final glare for effect.
Clearing his throat, Fenwig continued, "As I was saying, Mr. Fortune has apparently entered society for the sole purpose of securing a bride."
The sheer nerve of the whelp amazed the duke. Perhaps there was a good bit of Hammond in his blood, after all. "He's made this common knowledge?"
"It would appear so," Fenwig confirmed. "In fact, there are a number of ladies whose families are in dire straits that would welcome the match."
"Why?" Lord Hammond leaned back in his seat, awaiting his man-of-business' answer. "Surely they could find a better match than a man who has been disowned."
"Well, as to that, your grace, while you might have publicly disowned your son and his heir apparent, that does not affect the entitled properties nor the title which will automatically pass to Mr. Fortune upon your..."
"My death," finished the duke brusquely.
Fenwig swallowed as he nodded once. "So although Mr. Fortune refuses to acknowledge it, there is no denying the fact that he is indeed the Marquess of Dorset."
"And my heir," concluded Lord Hammond as he rose to his feet.
"Of course, you could petition the Crown, but I highly doubt your request to remove Mr. Fortune as your heir would be granted, as he appears to be of sound mind and body," Fenwig concluded.
Clasping his hands behind his back, Lord Ham-mond stared out onto the lawns that had belonged to his family for centuries. All of this would someday belong to that upstart with peasant blood in his veins. And since it seemed he had no choice in the matter, perhaps it was time he stopped being the fool and took charge of the situation.
"You say my grandson is seeking a bride," the duke said as he turned to face Fenwig.
His business agent's eyes flared briefly. "Your... grandson, did you say, your grace?"
"And what of it?" barked the duke. "It appears I have little choice in the matter, so I'd best see to it that the boy is at least trained for the position." Waving his hand, he dismissed his last statement, "No, never mind that. It's probably too late to work with the boy, but at least I could see to it that he marries someone with a pedigree fine enough to overcome his tainted bloodlines."
Fortune's Bride Page 6