Fortunes of Fate: Prequel Story

by Christina McKnight

  “Yes, Henrietta. Where did she send Katherina, her granddaughter?”

  He did not answer, but A’laya heard the maid’s skirts rustle as she seemed to shift uncomfortably.

  “Katherina? The baby.” A light of recognition flashed in the duke’s eyes. “Henrietta, such a godly woman. Served the Lord every day of her life. Looking down on me from Heaven now.”

  A’laya had to stifle the urge to shake him, to speak of his duchess’s cruelty. That would serve nothing—not him or her. “What did she do with the baby, Your Grace?” She forced the words out through clenched teeth. He knows. He must know something.

  “Vicar Elliott. So grateful.” More mumbling. “Said she was so godly. Always doing what was best. My Henrietta.”

  It was information A’laya had longed for since she’d been sent away from Shrewbury Gardens. The fear of learning nothing more had A’laya focusing on the duke, unwilling to allow any further information about her daughter to go unsaid.

  “Does this vicar know where Katherina is?” A’laya squeezed the duke’s gnarled, old hand harder than she should, but it seemed to induce a moment of clarity in him. He appeared to focus on her for all of five seconds.

  “Leave well enough alone.” Just as quickly, he crumpled in on himself with a wail. “Henriiii––” Sobs shook his broken form.

  “You’ve done naught but upset him. You need to leave.” The maid’s voice rasped as she jumped forward to comfort the worthless old man.

  A’laya rose, heavy disappointment weighing her down as she stepped backward. If she caused more of a scene, the maid could send word to this vicar. Katherina would disappear again, this time leaving no trace of her existence. Did this man know? Did this Vicar Elliott know where Katherina was?

  He must.

  The maid turned the duke’s chair and pushed him out of the room. Although his cries grew more distant, they seemed louder and more haunting as each moment passed.

  Now he knew grief such as hers.

  A’laya remained frozen as his wails echoed throughout the manor.

  “Miss.” She’d not heard the butler’s approach. “I’ll see you out now.”

  But, of course. There was nothing more for her here. It had never been her home. There had never been a husband. There had never been a loving family. They had sent her and her daughter away.

  Shrewbury Gardens was nothing to her.

  Realizing the butler could see her, knowing this had been Henrietta’s favorite room, A’laya swirled her tongue around in her mouth, turned her head, and in one motion, summoning the anger she’d contained for years, spat on the elegant rug beneath her feet.

  The butler’s eyes opened wide.

  “I’ll see myself out, thank you.” She pivoted on her heel and strode out of the room with more dignity than she’d even once exhibited in this house before.

  She would find this Vicar Elliot. She would demand he tell her what he knew.

  She would find her daughter. Katherina was alive. A’laya felt it in her bones.

  She found herself grasping the talisman hanging around her neck so tightly, it would likely leave an imprint on her palm.

  She was her mother’s daughter, her grandmother’s grandchild. Her fingers knew the circles by heart.

  She now knew her path. She’d known it all along, but the time had finally come. She would find her daughter. I will no longer leave fortune to fate, she vowed in that moment.

  She’d divine it herself.

  Or die trying.

  * * *

  Flip the page to read Chapter One of

  Lord Castleford’s Fortunes Folly

  * * *

  Or buy Lord Castleford’s Fortunate Folly!

  Lord Castleford’s Fortunate Folly

  by Tabetha Waite

  Chapter 1

  Cornwall, England

  Spring 1816

  * * *

  Lord Jonathan Castleford knew he’d made a mistake the moment he turned his mount onto the road to Cornwall. But no, that wasn’t right. In truth, the folly in his judgment had happened long before now — about two weeks ago in London, to be exact.

  The error had happened the moment he’d allowed the Marquess of Shropshire to lead him on this wild goose chase. He’d assumed, as the man was the heir to a respected dukedom, that Nelson might have some sense of honor. Unfortunately, the moment the young heir hit the card tables, another man seemed to take his place, and any lingering intelligence disappeared. It was due to this rather unlucky hand at faro, with an exorbitant amount of funds at play that had landed Nelson in a difficult issue of payment with Jonathan. He offered, in exchange for his debts, a “prosperous” tin mine somewhere in the wilds of the Cornish coast.

  “Just go and take a look at it,” the young heir had nearly pleaded, shoving the deed into Jonathan’s hands. His expression had been that of a recalcitrant child who was trying to cover up some misdeeds. “If you don’t see that it’s just as flourishing as I’ve claimed—” He’d swallowed. “—come to my townhouse and I’ll pay you every single pound that I owe.”

  Jonathan’s dark eyebrows had risen slightly. Perhaps there was hope for the man after all. “Very well,” he’d conceded with a heavy sigh. Instantly, Nelson’s face had flooded with relief.

  So here he was — shivering inside his clothes as the breeze coming off of the coast whipped around his greatcoat. Jonathan desperately hoped that it wouldn’t rain, as he didn’t relish the thought of getting drenched before he reached his destination. As it was, the ground was a soggy, muddy mess due to earlier rains, which made for slow, grueling travel by horseback.

  He ground his teeth as his mount’s hooves slipped in the sludge, and took Nelson’s name in vain — and not for the first time. In truth, he was actually starting to wonder who was the bigger fool in this situation.

  As he crested the top of a hill, Jonathan reined his mount to a stop. He crossed his arms over the pommel of his saddle and observed the scene before him. A traveling fair of some sort effectively blocked the road. Two wagons stood slightly off to the side, but it was the third wagon, its wheel mired down in the mud that caused him to sigh. Three men were doing their best to push the sunken conveyance out of the bog, but in spite of all their best efforts, they weren’t having much luck.

  And that was before the first, fat drop of rain hit the brim of his hat.

  He gave a snort and shook his head. He supposed this was his punishment for being talked into such a quest in the first place. As he urged his mount forward, he told himself that it didn’t matter if he was about to be soaked. If nothing else, perhaps it would wash away the mud splatter that was about to coat his brand new Hessians.

  Nearly a half hour later, amid groans, and the pouring rain that had ensued, Jonathan and the other men finally managed to free the stuck wheel. As it rolled free of the muck, Jonathan bent over and put his hands on his knees. He was breathing heavily, and sweat coated his brow, but it always made him feel good on the inside to do something for his fellow man. As the younger son of the Earl of Vellerman, he had little to recommend him. His older brother, Edward, was the one who would make a difference as the heir, taking his place in Parliament and fighting for the rights and issues of England.

  The most Jonathan could do as the spare was free a wagon from the Cornish bog. Then again, he didn’t have the responsibility of a title to contend with either. He had a bit more freedom, which was what he liked. He didn’t want any strings that tied him down. No restrictions. Even the occasional mistresses were few and far between.

  A dark-skinned man came over and clapped Jonathan on the back. “Come on, stranger. I think you’ve earned a drink.”

  Jonathan straightened and offered the man a grin. “I believe I will take you up on that offer.”

  As Jonathan was led over to where a tent had been set up for a temporary shelter, he glanced at one of the wagons and was taken aback to see that he was under close scrutiny by a rather intriguing woman. She stood, f
ramed by a set of purple curtains, her honey-gold skin striking against the gloom of the day. She didn’t appear to be that old, yet she stood slightly hunched as if the weight of the world was a constant cloak around her shoulders. But then, it was her gray-blue eyes that truly captured his attention, as they assessed him quite boldly.

  “Who is that?” he found himself asking.

  His companion didn’t even turn around, although a small smile played about his mouth. “That is Madame Zeta. She is our fortune teller.”

  “I see.” Jonathan contemplated this with a wry twist of his lips. He had never been one to fall prey to such practices. He was entirely too sensible.

  Jonathan stood in the tent around a modest campfire that had been started and chatted with a few of the men for a time. Along with the promised drink, he was offered some bread and soup, which he accepted with gratitude. After a while, he started to feel more human. Outside, even the rain had slackened. He knew he should be heading out soon, if he was to make it to his friend’s house before nightfall. If there could be any sort of miracle on this Godforsaken journey, it was that Sir Elliot Marwood lived nearby in the village of Killigarth. Jonathan would never understand why his comrade from Eton had chosen to take up residence with his family in such a remote location of England, but in this instance, it was a blessing in disguise.

  “I would have a word before you depart, Englishman.”

  Jonathan turned at the sound of the strong female voice, surprised to find that it was Madame Zeta. She stood right next to him, although he hadn’t even heard her approach.

  Jonathan offered a polite, but refusing smile. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t really believe in tarot cards and palm reading…”

  “Then perhaps your destiny will be more intriguing?” With that, she turned to walk away.

  Jonathan knew that he had little choice but to follow or appear rude. Not until she started to climb into her wagon did she pause briefly and put a hand to her mid-section.

  He frowned. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” she said curtly, before disappearing behind the curtains.

  Jonathan shrugged before he followed her inside. The interior was comfortably furnished in shades of purple and gold. Candles flickered from various points about the room, giving it a mystical sort of glow. It was exactly what he might have imagined a fortune teller’s lodgings to look like. “So where’s the crystal ball?” he teased.

  Madame Zeta merely took a seat on a cushion across from him, her gray-blue eyes direct. She didn’t appear amused. “Have you ever heard of the Path of Life?”

  Jonathan winced inwardly as he sat down across from her in an effort to humor whatever it was she was about to say. “I have not.”

  She lifted a leather cord from around her neck, revealing a gold medallion dangling from the end of the length. The intertwined design reflected the light in the room and seemed to shine with a magic of its own…

  He blinked. Much more of this and he would start to see green fairies that weren’t there. He didn’t think that he’d drunk absinthe recently, but who knew what he’d really been drinking in that tent.

  “You were brought to me for a reason, Englishman,” Madame Zeta announced as she trailed a finger along each curve of the symbol in her palm. “You will find that sometimes our paths are intertwined on this journey through life. Sometimes the road to self-discovery takes much travail, but how we prosper depends on our determination to succeed.” She tucked the medallion back beneath her clothing with a certain amount of reverence that didn’t go unnoticed by Jonathan. She brought forth a white handkerchief with the same symbol embroidered in gold thread in the center and handed it to him. “This is for you… to remember that whatever it is you may seek, you shall find it if you will only be true to yourself.”

  Jonathan rubbed his thumb over the symbol with a light frown. Again, he was struck with the oddest sensation. He looked back at Madame Zeta and said in all sincerity, “Thank you.”

  She gave a brief nod, her gaze suddenly distant. “I have known many men like you, Englishman. I believe that you are pure of heart. Don’t make me regret my decision to put a measure of faith in you.”

  A lump suddenly clogged his throat, and Jonathan swallowed hard against it. “I promise.”

  * * *

  Buy Lord Castleford’s Fortunate Folly!

  Fortunes of Fate Series

  Fortunes of Fate: Prequel Story

  by Christina McKnight and Annabelle Anders

  * * *

  Lord Castleford’s Fortunate Folly by Tabetha Waite

  Fortune Favors Miss Gold by Nadine Millard

  Fortune’s Gamble by Diana Bold

  Fortune’s Wish by Eileen Richards

  Fortune’s Dragon by Meara Platt

  A Wallflower’s Folly by Amanda Mariel

  Lady Isabella’s Splendid Folly by Sandra Sookoo

  The Fortune of a Highland Rake by Tammy Andresen

  Miss Fortune’s First Kiss by Annabelle Anders

  Fortune’s Final Folly by Christina McKnight

  Tabetha Waite

  Tabetha Waite is the multi-award winning author of the Ways of Love Series. Her debut novel, "Why the Earl is After the Girl," was published in July of 2016 and won the 2017 Best Indie Book Award in Romance and the 2018 Second Place Feathered Quill Book Award in Romance. She is a certified PAN member of the RWA.

  When she's not writing, Tabetha is reading, as true bookworms do, or checking out any antique mall she comes across. During the school year she works as a lunch attendant at the local community college. She is a small town, Missouri girl, born and bred, and continues to make her home in the Midwest with her husband and two wonderful daughters.

  You can find her on most any social media site, and she encourages any fans of her work to join her mailing list for updates.

  Nadine Millard

  Nadine Millard is a bestselling writer hailing from Dublin, Ireland.

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  When she's not writing historical romance, she's managing her chaotic household of three children, a husband and a very spoiled dog!

  * * *

  She's a big fan of coffee and wine with a good book and will often be found at her laptop at 2am when a book idea strikes.

  * * *

  NadineMillardAuthor@gmail.com

  www.nadinemillard.com

  Diana Bold

  Award-winning author Diana Bold writes deeply emotional dark historical romance with tortured heroes and strong heroines.

  * * *

  http://www.dianabold.com

  diana@dianabold.com

  Eileen Richards

  For Eileen Richards, reading has always been her drug of choice. Nothing fixes a bad day better than a good book. She's loved the romance genre since she was a kid sneaking romance novels from her grandmother's stash. She knew one day she'd have to write her own. Fast forward thirty years, two kids, two grandchildren (so far), and she achieved her dream.

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  Eileen's books are about love, laughter, and family. Whether set in London society or a small village, her stories are sassy, sexy, and tend to bend the rules just a bit. Life is just too short to not be a little bit naughty.

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  Eileen resides in North Carolina with her husband and best friend and a diva greyhound called Honey.

  http://www.eileenrichardsauthor.com

  Meara Platt

  Meara Platt is a USA Today bestselling, award winning author, and an Amazon UK All Star. Her Regency romances are infused with humor and heart, and her paranormal stories add just enough darkness to keep her readers intrigued.

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  She lives in New York with her husband and two children, and loves it except for the traffic. Her favorite place in all the world is England's Lake District, which may not come as a surprise since many of her stories are set in that idyllic landscape, including her edgier, paranormal Dark Gardens series.

  www.mearaplatt.com
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  plattmeara@gmail.com

  Amanda Mariel

  USA Today Bestselling author Amanda Mariel dreams of days gone by when life moved at a slower pace. She enjoys taking pen to paper and exploring historical time periods through her imagination and the written word. When she is not writing she can be found reading, crocheting, traveling, practicing her photography skills, or spending time with her family.

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  http://www.amandamariel.com

  Sandra Sookoo

  Sandra Sookoo is a USA Today bestselling author who firmly believes every person deserves acceptance and a happy ending. Most days you can find her creating scandal and mischief in the Regency-era, serendipity and happenstance in Victorian America or snarky, sweet humor in the contemporary world. Most recently she's moved into infusing her books with mystery and intrigue.

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  When she's not wearing out computer keyboards, Sandra spends time with her real life Prince Charming in central Indiana where she's been known to goof off and make moments count because the key to life is laughter. A Disney fan since the age of ten, when her soul gets bogged down and her imagination flags, a trip to Walt Disney World is in order. Nothing fuels her dreams more than the land of eternal happy endings, hope and love stories.