Fortune's Bride

by VICTORIA MALVEY

  "I understand that," Alyssa said as she turned back toward Lord Hammond, "but what I can't fathom is why you are using the proxy. After all, Ian and I are both here in London, so if he wished to marry me, why isn't he here?"

  Sputtering helplessly, the earl looked to the duke for a response.

  "Because Ian was unexpectedly called out of town and I'm uncertain when he will return." For the first time since she'd met him, the duke smiled. "So as his grandfather, it is only right that I handle this matter for him."

  It all made perfect sense... but Alyssa couldn't help feeling that something was amiss. Still, she'd known all along that she would accept the proxy. This marriage would enable her to provide a Season for Calk as well as financial security. Despite the costs, she couldn't say no. "Very well, your grace, I shall sign the proxy."

  The duke tilted his head. "That was never in question, Lady Alyssa," he informed her. "The proxy is being drawn up by the earl's man-of-business as we speak."

  Alyssa couldn't believe his arrogance. "Then what, might I ask, was the purpose of this meeting?"

  "I wanted to get a look at you."

  Straightening in her chair, Alyssa lifted her chin. "Have you seen enough, your grace.?"

  Instead of calling her out at her impertinence, the duke actually seemed to ponder the question. Finally, he gave a brisk nod. "You'll do."

  * * *

  Turning in a slow circle, the duke took in the trappings of wealth his grandson had managed to acquire. Expensive vases sat atop elegant tables near exquisite paintings. The place reeked of class and breeding.

  Not at all what one would expect from a serving maid's son.

  Walking over to the window, the duke gazed out onto the manicured lawns. It had been three days since he'd met with Lady Alyssa and during that time, he'd been very busy. He'd reviewed the proxy, signed it, and delivered it to the earl for him to look over before Alyssa signed it as well. Now all he had to do was tell Ian of his impending nuptials.

  Holding back a smile, the duke turned from the glorious view. With this alliance he'd formed for his grandson, the duke knew that the blot on their family history would be all but erased from the memories of the ton. And if the boy was truly obliging, Ian would produce great-grandchildren for him, and for the dukedom.

  Yes, everything was falling into place.

  "If you've come to tell me I need to accept your title, you've wasted your time."

  Gritting his teeth, the duke refused to rise to the bait... however tempting. "I've come on important business, it's true, but not to discuss your bullheaded refusal to accept your birthright."

  "Ah, so I take it this is simply a social call," Ian drawled as he strolled into the study. "Might I offer you a brandy?"

  Nodding crisply, Lord Hammond studied the offspring of his only son... and smiled inwardly. Oh, he'd been a fool to ignore the boy for so long. Indeed, Ian would breed the true heir. Accepting the drink, he sat in a chair opposite his grandson.

  "Shall we exchange pleasantries and pretend that we're a happy family or would you like to get to the point of your visit?"

  The boy's sharp wit pleased him no end, but he wasn't about to show it. "Don't be short with me, pup. You should show some respect."

  Bowing his head, Ian acknowledged the retort. "My apologies, your grace. You are quite correct. It is hardly the way to treat a guest in my home... invited or otherwise."

  "Quite the charming fellow, I see," said the duke in frosty tones.

  At least the whelp had the good grace to flush. Somewhat mollified, the duke continued, "Now as to why I called upon you today—"

  Before he could finish his explanation, the duke cried out in disgust, "What the ... Good God!"

  There, right in his crystal tumbler, sat a hideous frog, blinking up at him from amidst the amber liquid.

  "Oh, for God's sake, I thought we'd caught all of these buggers," grumbled Ian as he snatched the creature up. Walking over to the window, he raised the pane enough to toss out the offensive frog, then resumed his seat. "You were saying ?"

  "A frog jumps into my glass from nowhere, you nonchalantly pick him up and toss him out the window without batting an eye and you expect me to just continue with our conversation?"

  A grin split Ian's face. "That about sums it up."

  The duke shook his head in annoyance. Lifting his glass to take a sip, the duke stopped halfway to his lips as he remembered the frog sitting in the brandy.

  "Allow me to fetch you a new drink," Ian said, plucking the glass out of his grandfather's hand.

  Accepting the fresh brandy, the duke took a sip. "Now if I place the glass upon the table, will another frog leap into it?"

  "I can't make any promises one way or the other."

  "Then I shall simply have to take my chances." Placing the glass firmly upon the table, the duke tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair. "However, some things can't be left to chance, Ian."

  Crossing his arms, Ian settled back against his desk. "We're no longer talking about frogs, are we?"

  "I've arranged for you to marry."

  Ian's drink sloshed over the side of his glass as he jerked it away from his mouth. "You what?"

  "Everything has already been arranged," the duke continued, ignoring his grandson's reaction. "The announcement will appear in tomorrow's paper. O signed the proxy in your stead."

  "If you believe I'll go along with your scheming for even one minute, you're seriously deluding yourself."

  "But there is nothing for you to go along with, Ian. It's already done." Leaning forward, he tried to convince his grandson that this was in his best interest. "The young lady you're to wed is from a good family with a long, respectable heritage. I've investigated her lineage very carefully and it is unmarred by scandal. The Tonneson line is well-respected."

  "I don't believe you did this," Ian murmured, thrusting his hand through his hair. "I'll have the agreement invalidated."

  "That would mean going through the House of Lords... a place where I am quite influential," Hammond added, leaving the implication unspoken. His grandson would find little assistance there. "Don't be so stubborn, Ian. This is for your own good. Lady Alyssa Porter is—"

  Ian started in his chair.

  "I see you're pleased by the news. As you know, she is the daughter of the former Earl of Tonneson, and she's exactly the sort of woman you should marry. Nothing at all like that Gypsy trash you seemed to enjoy so much."

  An instant later, bitter laughter flowed from Ian, the sound jarring the duke to his bones. "You interfering old fool," he rasped. "You don't realize what you've just done."

  "I've saved you from disgracing yourself with that Madam Zora person is what I've done."

  "Lady Alyssa Porter is Madam Zora."

  13

  "She's what?"

  "Alyssa Porter and Madam Zora are one and the same." Crossing his arms, Ian sat back and waited for the duke's reaction.

  "Impossible."

  "I fear it's not." He narrowed his gaze. "It appears that this time you are captured in your own web of manipulation, Grandfather. Didn't you tell me the announcement would be made tomorrow?" Bitter glee filled him as he saw the color drain from the old man's face. Damn the arrogant fool for aligning him with the one woman he never wanted to see again.

  "She can't be. I checked her background."

  "But did you check her present?" He took a sip of his brandy. "You were so eager to check out her past, to make certain that there weren't any skeletons rattling around, you forgot to look into her current escapades."

  A moan escaped the duke.

  "I can picture it now," Ian said grandly, spreading his hands wide. "You walking into a ball with my bride by proxy on your arm and introducing her as the newest Fortune bride." He dropped his hands into his lap. "Then everyone looks at her, expecting to see a lady of the highest caliber, and instead they see their little Gypsy fortuneteller, Madam Zora."

  The duke closed his eyes for
a long moment.

  "Perhaps she could have special calling cards made up. They could read 'Alyssa Fortune, Marchioness of Dorset, formerly known as Madam Zora.'" Tilting his head to the side, Ian affected a pleasant expression. "Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

  His once pale face growing flush, the duke scowled at his grandson. "Don't be glib, Ian. We'll figure a way out of this mess."

  "I don't plan on figuring anything out, your grace." Leaning forward, Ian said softly, "It's not my mess to clean up. And to think you were so eager to keep me from bringing scandal down upon the Fortune name." Rising, Ian smiled coolly down at his grandfather. "Congratulations, your grace, you managed to do it all by yourself."

  * * *

  "You deceived me."

  Alyssa blinked once. "I did nothing of the sort," she replied calmly.

  The Duke of Hammond paced before her, his hands clasped behind his back, his fury obvious. "You failed to mention your recent... occupation."

  "You never bothered to ask me any questions about myself," she reminded him. "You and my illustrious cousin had arranged everything between the two of you."

  "Humph," the duke snorted.

  "I... I'll go check on the tea," stuttered the earl before he scurried out of the room, leaving Alyssa to face the duke's anger alone.

  "Sniveling pantywaist," scoffed the duke beneath his breath.

  Hearing the insult, Alyssa couldn't keep her lips from twitching.

  "What's so blasted amusing about this?"

  "About this situation, nothing." A side of her mouth quirked upward. "But I found your colorful description of my cousin most entertaining."

  For the first time since he'd entered the room, the duke stopped his pacing and stared down at her. "Are you afraid of me?"

  She considered his question for a moment. "No. Should I be? If I'm missing something important, please feel free to inform me."

  The duke scowled at her. "You've got a sharp tongue, young lady."

  "True enough," she conceded, "and it's only bound to get sharper, as I use it so very often."

  Lifting his brows, the duke sat down directly across from her. "You'd better learn to curb it," he advised sternly. "The future Duchess of Hammond can't behave in such a manner."

  A retort rose to her lips, but Alyssa held it back as she remembered that the duke would help her and Calla. She couldn't afford to be cheeky.

  Lord Hammond leaned back in his chair as an expression of satisfaction settled upon his face. "Very good," he said, his condescending tone making Alyssa grit her teeth. "Now I want to know why the devil you would pretend to be this Madam Zora person when you are a well-bred lady."

  Before Alyssa could answer, her cousin peeked into the room. "I've ordered the tea and it shan't be but a moment." He rounded the door, yet retained a firm grasp upon the door handle. "If you need more time alone, I shall—"

  "Stop your dithering and come take your seat," ordered the duke. "Your ward is about to explain why she pretended to be a Gypsy fortuneteller... and after she's finished, you can tell me why you allowed such nonsense."

  The earl paled as he sank into his chair. "I didn't allow it. I didn't even know about her masquerade," he replied weakly.

  Lord Hammond's look of disgust spoke volumes. Turning toward her, he speared her with his glare. "I'm still awaiting my answer."

  "As to why I became a Gypsyr Alyssa unflinchingly met his gaze. "I pretended to be Madam Zora because—"

  "She was bored," the earl interjected forcefully.

  Stunned, Alyssa listened to her cousin elaborate on the ridiculous tale.

  "She's always been a headstrong child and after her parents passed on, she became a bit wild." The earl gave Lord Hammond a reassuring smile. "But she's ready to settle down now and become a proper wife." He glanced at her. "Isn't that right, Alyssa?"

  While she wanted to do nothing more than deny her cousin's claim, Alyssa knew that she'd be wiser to agree. "Yes," she said, forcing the word past the lump in her throat.

  Beaming at Lord Hammond, the earl slapped a hand on his knee. "Just as I told you," he crowed. "And now that she's gotten these flights of fancy out of her system, Alyssa will make a fine wife for your grandson."

  "Perhaps, but I still need to devise a plan to overcome the inevitable marring of her reputation, once the ton realizes they've been duped." Tapping his fingers against the arm of his chair, Lord Hammond remained silent for a moment. "I believe we should follow Ian's recommendation and hold a ball to introduce Lady Alyssa."

  At the mention of Ian's name, Alyssa straightened in her chair. "You've spoken about this with Ian?"

  "Of course I have, gel," the duke replied sharply.

  "When?" Alyssa asked. "I thought he was out of town and not expected to return in the near future... which is the reason for a proxy in the first place."

  "He returned to town unexpectedly; however, after a quick visit with me, he was off again." Lifting his chin, the duke paused for a moment, giving her a hard stare. "I don't appreciate having to explain myself."

  Before Alyssa could reply to the duke's statement, her cousin leapt into the fray. "Of course not, your grace," he said soothingly as he shot Alyssa a dark look. "I assure you that Alyssa will curb her tongue."

  How dare her cousin speak for her! "I have no intention of—"

  "Come, my dear Alyssa, don't get overwrought," the earl said, leaning forward to pat her shoulder. "You must remember Calla."

  At the mention of her sister, Alyssa stilled, sensing the implied threat. "What does my sister have to do with any of this?"

  "I'd say quite a bit, wouldn't you?" he replied smoothly. "After all, she looks to you to set an example... among other things."

  Alyssa knew all too well what her cousin meant by other things. Her sister depended upon her for everything ... and if she had to bide her temper around these two overbearing men in order to continue to provide for Calla and herself, then so be it.

  "Now, as I was saying before you interrupted me," the duke began, "I will host a ball to introduce Lady Alyssa to society as Ian's bride by proxy."

  "But the moment I arrive, everyone will recognize me as Madam Zora," Alyssa pointed out,

  "Naturally,... which is why we'll make that announcement on the invitation."

  "S-s-s-surely you jest," stammered the earl.

  "Not at all." Lord Hammond smoothed down his vest. "If we inform society before the ball, then there won't be a sense of shock when Lady Alyssa arrives."

  Alyssa considered the duke's argument for a moment. "That's true," she conceded finally.

  "Of course." The duke's unbelievably arrogant remark made Alyssa smile. "However, I believe we must also be prepared to explain that your mother was of Gypsy descent."

  Her smile disappeared. "But my mother was French, not Romany."

  "Perhaps she used to be, but from this moment onward, she was Romany." Lord Hammond held up his hands to halt Alyssa's protest "It is the only way to handle this matter." Leaning forward, he hammered his point home. "Think on it for a moment. If you waltz into the affair and tell everyone you doled out advice on a lark, you will garner nothing but ill feelings toward you. Yet, if you announce that you were merely exercising your birthright, no one will feel as if you've swindled them... even though you hid your true identity from them,"

  Though it galled her, Alyssa had to admit Lord Hammond was correct in his assessment. "Very well," she murmured, "though I cannot say I am pleased."

  The duke's eyes narrowed. "Are you always this difficult?"

  "No, your grace," Alyssa replied sweetly. "I'm usually tfr worse."

  "Then we shall have to do something about that," the duke muttered. "What you need is someone to remind you of the gentler manner befitting a lady of breeding." Snapping his fingers, Lord Hammond exclaimed, "And I know just the lady to do it." His eyes gleamed as he continued, "Tomorrow I shall make arrangements for you to live with my sister, Lady Eleanor Fortune, in her town house. She can act a
s your chaperone and your mentor in the feminine arts. I know this is highly unusual, but I don't feel I have any other choice. You must learn to behave like a Duchess, so you will study my sister's every move while under her roof and emulate her behavior." Pausing, Lord Hammond glanced at the earl. "That is, if you have no objection to this plan, Tonneson."

  "No, no, your grace."

  Alyssa smirked as her cousin tripped over his own tongue in his hurry to agree with the duke's plan.

  "After all, without a wife to assist me, I fear I lack the ability to raise two young ladies," the earl added.

  No, what her cousin lacked was the willingness to spend one farthing on their care, Alyssa thought dryly, not missing the fact that no one bothered to ask her opinion on the matter. Still, she wasn't about to argue.

  "Then it is suitable to everyone." The duke eyed her attire. "Are all your gowns so dreadful!"

  Alyssa couldn't help but smile at the question. "More so, your grace."

  Scowling at her, the duke tapped his hand against the arm of his chair. "Then the first order of business is to obtain a suitable wardrobe for you."

  "And for my sister as well?" Alyssa asked hopefully.

  "Certainly. It would hardly do to have you well-groomed and have your sister running about town in rags," Lord Hammond scoffed.

  Whatever his reason, if it provided Calla with new gowns, Alyssa was happy. "I quite agree."

  Scribbling an address on one of his calling cards, the duke passed the card to her. "Splendid. I shall send a note around to my sister and tell her to expect you tomorrow."

  "And what of our thingsr Alyssa asked.

  Once again, the duke's gaze skipped over her. "Do you possess anything of value?"

  "Indeed, I do," she assured him firmly.

  Sighing loudly, the duke frowned at her. "Are you determined to be difficult?"

  Alyssa simply laughed in response.

  * * *

  Leaving the cool night air to step into her flat, Alyssa realized that tomorrow, she and Calla would leave this poverty behind. In the span of a day, their entire world had changed, she thought, as she made her way up to the small room she shared with her sister.