"Everything always comes back around to him, doesn't it?" Ian shook his head. "Perhaps I should thank you for your tolerance."
"I believe a good bout of groveling and begging will suffice," she replied airily.
Laughing, he reached down and plucked a tulip from the border garden, before dropping onto one knee before her. Ian held out both of his hands, palms up, with the flower laying across them and his head bent in supplication.
"My lady, might I beg your—"
"Ian!" Alyssa hissed, noticing the attention they were drawing. "Everyone is staring at us."
He lifted his head to look at her. "Then you accept my—"
"Yes, yes, I accept," she replied, willing to say anything to get him back on his feet Picking up the flower, she reached down to tug at his arm. "Now please get up, Ian."
When he rose, she tucked her hand around his arm and, holding on tightly to her flower, enjoyed the rest of her walk.
* * *
"I say, Hammond, isn't that your grandson over there?" asked Lord Witherspoon, squinting at a couple strolling and laughing along the footpath.
"I believe it is." The duke replied, noting that his grandson and the impertinent Lady Alyssa were far too engrossed in each other. "Interesting," murmured Lord Hammond.
"Pardon?"
At Loid Witherspoon's question, the duke gathered his thoughts... and took advantage of the God-given opportunity that had just fallen into his lap. "It's nothing, really," he said with deliberate nonchalance. "I'm simply happy for my grandson."
"Happy? How so?" asked Lord Witherspoon as he eased back on the reins. "I thought my wife told me you were under a misguided Gypsy spell when you believed there was a proxy between your grandson and Lady Alyssa."
"Indeed I was," the duke admitted readily. "But you see, all worked out for the best. My grandson doesn't want me to offer for Lady Alyssa." Leaning forward, he patted his horse's neck. "My grandson is an old-fashioned sort and he wanted to ask Lady Alyssa to be his bride himself."
Lord Witherspoon's reaction pleased the duke. "So Mr. Fortune—"
"I believe you mean Lord Dorset," the duke corrected.
"Ah, yes. Of course. Lord Dorset is going to ask Lady Alyssa to many him?" The duke could feel Lord With-erspoon's excitement.
"It's true," Lord Hammond agreed. "A formal announcement is imminent."
"Might I share the joyous news with Lady Wither-spoon?"
"I wouldn't think of excluding her," the duke re-turned with a broad smile. After all, Lady Wither-spoon was one of the biggest gossips in all of London.
Lady Alyssa might have refused to sign the proxy, but she certainly didn't seem to have any qualms about spending time with his grandson. Despite her protests, it was perfectly clear to him that she wouldn't mind becoming the next Marchioness of Dorset.
All she needed was a little prodding in the right direction. Perhaps once she became accustomed to the idea, Lady Alyssa would settle down and accept Ian as her husband.
* * *
"Ian, you sly devil, I should have known that you would come to your senses," Peter remarked as he lit his cigar.
"Pardon me?"
Peter blew out a puff of smoke. "I said you finally came to your senses and are going to ask Lady Alyssa to be your wife."
Choking on his drink, Ian glanced around Coving-ton's study to see if anyone overheard Peter's remark. "I'm doing nothing of the sort."
Peter's brows lifted. "That is not what Lady Wither-spoon is saying."
"I believe I would know if I were planning on marrying Alyssa... regardless of what Lady Witherspoon says," Ian replied dryly.
Shrugging lightly, Peter explained, "Then you'd best let everyone know your intentions for Lady Witherspoon is telling all of the ton that she heard about your upcoming nuptials from her husband who heard it from—"
"Let me guess," Ian interrupted, holding up both of his hands. "My grandfather."
"Precisely."
"That meddling old man," Ian muttered under his breath as he tamped out the end of his cigar. "Excuse me, Peter, but I need to speak to Alyssa."
"About this latest rumor?"
"Yes," Ian remarked as he set down his snifter.
'What I don't understand, Ian, is why you don't just marry the girl," Peter said firmly. "After all, she fits your needs perfectly. More than perfectly, in feet, because you're attracted to her."
Thankful that the study was nearly empty, Ian turned toward his friend. "And precisely how do you envision my wedding day, then? Will my grandfather stand next to me on the altar, directing everything from there, or do you think he'll be kind enough to wait until after I marry Alyssa before he continues to manipulate my life?' He shook his head. "I will not allow him to control my future."
"Personally," Peter began, "I think you are doing exactly that by refusing to do what's best for you just to spite him."
"How can marrying someone he hand-picked for me be in my best interests?"
Shrugging, Peter waved his cigar. "How, indeed."
* * *
"Excuse me, Conover, might I cut in?"
Smiling, Alyssa stepped away from Lord Conover and into Ian's arms. "Good evening, Ian."
"And to you as well, Alyssa," Ian replied, twirling her away from the disgruntled young lord. "I apologize for cutting in, but you haven't sat out one dance, so you left me with no option." He eyed her. "You've become a diamond of the first cut."
"What a lovely compliment, Ian," she said with a laugh.
Ian's hand tightened upon her waist. "I meant it, Alyssa. Once again, you've become the darling of the ton."
"Only because they still consider me exotic. This evening alone I've had five requests for me to read palms," Alyssa said, not deluding herself for a moment. "Yet I admit that I am having a delightful time, regardless."
"Wonderful." Tipping his head to the side, Ian asked, "Tell me, Alyssa, do you still enjoy to argue?"
"With you?" She smiled up at him. "It remains one of my greatest joys, Ian."
"Then I am about to make you immensely happy, Alyssa, because we need to argue."
"Here?" she asked, looking around the Covington's ballroom. "Now?"
"Yes... and quite loudly too." Bending closer, he imparted the news he'd just heard from Peter. "So I believe the best way to convince everyone present that we are not planning to wed is if we argue publicly."
"Argue about what?"
Ian pressed his lips together for a moment. "What if I pretend to take offense to the fact that you danced with Lord Conover twice."
"I didn't realize you'd noticed," she murmured softly.
"Well, I did," he returned gruffly. "Then you can announce that I have no claim upon you and you remain free to dance with whomever you please." He paused for a moment. "How does that sound?"
She smiled briefly, before fixing her expression into a furious scowl. "You have no right to tell me who I can and can't dance with," she stated loudly.
"I'm merely offering advice," he replied in an equally booming tone. "People will begin to talk if you dance with any gentleman more than twice."
"That is none of your concern." Pulling from his arms, Alyssa stood amidst the dancing couples, fully aware of the gazes fixed upon her. "You have no claim upon my time."
"I am well aware of that," he returned sharply. "I was simply trying to be of help."
"You can help me if you keep your opinions to yourself." Gathering her skirts, Alyssa turned on her heel and marched away, leaving Ian standing alone in the middle of the dance floor.
For a minute, he looked around the room before he too spun on his heel and walked away in the opposite direction.
Everyone remained silent, obviously stunned by the delicious bit of gossip that had just unfolded before their very eyes.
"Amazing how heated a lovers' quarrel can become, isn't it?" Stepping forward, the duke addressed the gaping crowd. "Allow me to apologize for my grandson's public display. He's still young and obviously
hasn't learned to channel his passions." Lord Hammond tugged at his cravat "And if this little display proved anything, it showed me just how passionately he and the Lady Alyssa feel for one another."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd as they exchanged youthful tales of passion-filled days gone by. Satisfaction filled the duke as he successfully spun his own angle on Ian's fanciful display.
* * *
"You were wonderful, Alyssa," Ian announced as he approached from the far end of the garden.
"Shhhh." Pressing a finger to her lips, she glanced back at the Covingtons' town house. "I don't know if we're alone and I wouldn't want anyone to realize we were simply pretending to be angry."
"You're a bit too late for that," said Peter as he stepped down off the terrace and onto the garden path.
Moving next to Alyssa, Ian frowned at his friend. "What the devil do you mean?"
"The moment you stormed from the room, your grandfather stepped forward and declared your argument a lovers' spat." Peter tugged on the cuffs of his jacket. "It was a clever ploy, actually, for everyone readily believed him." Shaking his head, he smiled at them. "Next time I would suggest arguing about something other than how many men your lady has danced with," Peter murmured. "Your disagreement reeked of jealousy, Ian."
Even in the dark, Alyssa could see Ian flush. "I should have thought our display through a bit more."
"Well, whatever you decide to do in the future, I would suggest you make it a good plan, for half the ton has you wed and bed before the end of the month."
This time it was Alyssa's turn to grow warm. "What shall we do, Ian?"
"Perhaps you shouldn't do anything at all," Peter suggested. "After all, the old boy will soon tire of the game if you don't play."
"You've never spoken to Lord Hammond, have you?" Alyssa smoothed her skirts. "He's determined to see Ian married to a lady he deems suitable."
"Alyssa's right." Thrusting his hand through his hair, Ian began to pace. "We need to do something drastic, something that will convince the ton that we have no plans to marry." He slanted a grin at Alyssa. "It's a pity you can't call upon some of your Gypsy magic to make this problem go away."
Ian's jest caught her attention. "Perhaps I can," Alyssa murmured softly. "What if I publicly curse you again? If I call a plague upon you, surely no one will mistake the argument that would ensue for a lovers' spat."
Grasping Alyssa by the shoulders, he placed an exuberant kiss upon her mouth. "You're brilliant!" he ex-claimed.
Her lips tingled from the touch of his, making it difficult for her to remain focused on the discussion. "T-t-thank you," she stammered. "I do try."
"Where will you be tomorrowr
Regaining her calm, Alyssa replied, "Calla and I will attend Lady Atherton's musicale in the afternoon."
"Excellent," Ian said, satisfaction deepening his voice. "I shall attend as well. After I arrive, we can argue and you can curse me."
"It's a pity I'll be unable to see this outing," Peter drawled as he sat down on a nearby bench. "It certainly promises to be quite entertaining." He looked toward Alyssa. "Precisely what do you plan on calling down upon Ian's head this time? Since I shall miss all the amusement, I'd be grateful if you'd indulge my curiosity."
"I'm not certain, but I'll think of something suitably bothersome before tomorrow," she promised with a smile.
Crossing his arms, Ian rocked back on his heels. "Why do I suddenly feel apprehensive ?"
"Because you're an intelligent fellow," Peter countered.
"At times," Alyssa quipped, smiling at Ian. "At times."
18
W hile Calla bounced excitedly on the seat next to her, Alyssa fought the urge to join her. This afternoon should prove to be most amusing.
"When is the singing going to begin?"
Forcing a smile onto her face, Alyssa turned toward her sister. "As soon as everyone has had a chance to partake of the refreshments and has found a seat."
"Oh. I do wish they'd hurry," Calla said under her breath. "I can't wait to hear Lady Covington's daughter sing."
Alyssa held back a laugh. She'd been to enough parties to know that good breeding didn't guarantee a good voice. "When I invited you to attend with me today, I'd forgotten you'd never been to a musicale before."
"Well, I haven't, so I'm very happy to be here." Shifting on her seat, Calla tried to see who else had come to the affair.
"Calla." Alyssa leaned closer to correct her sister. "It isn't polite to be craning your neck around to—"
"There's Ian!"
Straightening, Alyssa turned to look around the room for Ian. "Where?"
"By the door." Rising to her feet, Calla began to wave. "Ian! Over here!"
Unused to polite society, Calla had no idea what a stir her shout had created. Always eager for the next on-dit, everyone in the room quieted and turned to watch Calla, who stood on her tiptoes, waving at Ian.
Undaunted by the avid attention, he strode toward them, simply ignoring the onlookers. Alyssa's breath caught in her throat as she watched him approach. So handsome, so gentle with her sister, so very much a gentleman.
Thoughts of what he expected her to do this very afternoon caused her stomach to flutter with excitement. She'd been awake half the night, trying to de-cide upon a fitting curse.
"Calla," he called in greeting. Clasping Calla by the shoulders, Ian leaned forward to kiss both of her cheeks. "What a wonderful surprise," he continued, pitching his voice loud enough so everyone in the room could overhear him. Releasing Calla, Ian turned toward Alyssa.
"My lady," he said stiffly.
Lifting her chin, Alyssa stared at Ian down her nose. "Sir," she said, her voice chilled. "I didn't expect to see you here."
The lack of welcome in her statement made everyone in the room aware of her displeasure. "I wasn't aware I needed to send my daily itinerary to you."
Hoping she appeared suitably upset, Alyssa glared at Ian. "It is only fair, since you seem to feel you have the right to dictate with whom I may dance."
"True, but no one ever said anything about being fair. You are a woman, after all," he pointed out.
"Not an ordinary woman," Alyssa reminded him coolly. She knew that Calla watched her with a wide, inquiring gaze, but, not wanting to taint Calla's reaction, Alyssa hadn't told her sister about this staged argument. Lifting both her hands, she glared at him intently. "I curse you, Ian Fortune."
Everyone around them gasped, before eagerly leaning forward.
"Go on," Ian murmured, a smile playing upon his lips. "What shall be my fate this time? I fear I'm still bothered by those pesky frogs, so I'd prefer if you chose something a bit less offensive this time around."
"Oh, don't mock her, Lord Dorset," reprimanded Lady Covington. "The more you anger her, the worse your fate will be."
"Words of wisdom," Alyssa remarked, lifting her brows at Ian. "When the sun rises for the second time, you shall awaken to discover a gaggle of geese invading your home."
Ian's curse was joined by a chorus of shocked gasps. Leaning closer, he whispered, "Geese, Alyssa? Couldn't you have picked something else? Those blasted birds are nasty."
This time it was her turn to wear a satisfied smile. "I know."
* * *
The cake slipped from the Earl of Tonneson's fin-gers and landed in his lap, "She did what?"
"Cursed Mr. Fortune again," Meiser reiterated, wishing it weren't his job to report this distressing news back to the earl.
"The idiotic twit!" Brushing the crumbs off his vest, the earl sat up on the chaise. "Doesn't she realize how she mocks this entire family with her foolish actions?"
Eyeing the earl's food-stained vest, Meiser wisely remained quiet.
"We need to do something, Meiser." Tapping his booted foot against the gleaming floor, the earl glared at Meiser. "You're my man-of-business. You think up something to do that will get us out of this mess."
What mess? Meiser wanted to ask. But it wasn't
his job to ask questions. No, all he needed to do was remain focused upon the task at hand and find a solution.
One that would help Lady Alyssa.
"I have a plan...though I warn you it is somewhat
unorthodox," Meiser said finally.
"Go on, man."
"We make the curse come true, then you can speak to Lady Alyssa and ask her to cease from pretending to be Madam Zora."
The earl scowled at the suggestion. "And this will help me.. .how?"
"It will maintain Lady Alyssa's credibility and, in doing so, reflect favorably upon your family."
Rubbing his chin, the earl considered the proposal. Finally, he nodded once. "Very well, then," he muttered in a low, grumbling voice. "See to it."
* * *
"This was not one of your better ideas," Ian com-plained as he shoved a hissing goose into a nearby crate.
Flapping her skirts wildly, Alyssa directed another goose toward Ian. "I thought I was most clever in my curse."
"No, we wouldn't be standing in this park rounding up these blasted creatures if you'd been clever." Ian reached for the goose and tossed it into the crate as well.
"Damn!" Jumping back from the box, Ian rubbed at the fleshy part of his thumb. "The bloody bird just bit me."
Alyssa burst into laughter.
Immediately, Ian rounded on her. "You find this amusing, do you?" he murmured, his voice low. "I doubt you would enjoy it quite as much if we switched positions and you had to toss the vile beasts into that crate."
"Oh, do stop your whining, Ian."
Grinning wickedly, Ian approached her. "Whining,
is it?"
"It most certainly is," she replied, backing away from him. "A most unappealing characteristic in a gentleman."
"Then it's well-suited for my current frame of mind, for I'm not feeling much the gentleman at the moment."
Smiling, Alyssa continued to step backward as Ian advanced. "At this moment? Pardon me for my boldness, my lord, but when do you feel like a gentleman? I've yet to see a time when—"
Lunging forward, Ian made a grab for her.
With a shriek, Alyssa shifted out from beneath his hands and began to run across the park lawns. Lifting her skirts, Alyssa dodged away from Ian, darting left, then right, to escape him. One misstep sent Alyssa spilling onto the ground.
Fortune's Bride Page 17