Page 7 of Fortuity’s Arrangement (Seven Unsuitable Sisters #2)

“D id you not think it strange that Essie would send Eleanor to fetch you?” Grace gently asked. “I mean—of all people.”

“I do not need reminding of my na?veté or my stupidity, but thank you, dear sister, for being kind enough to do so anyway.” Fortuity paced the breadth and width of the siblings’ shared sitting room that connected their bedrooms. How in the world had she allowed Eleanor to trap her so easily? And after she’d informed the conniving little chit that they were all smarter than that and knew better than to trust her? Eleanor must surely be laughing so heartily right now that she spewed tea out her nose.

“Other than joining a nunnery, I can think of no way out of this that will not drag us all into ruin.” Fortuity stopped pacing and threw up her hands. “I could tolerate being ruined. Who knows? Such a scandal might even make my books more enticing to publishers and readers alike. But it would also taint the rest of you. It is simply not fair, and there is nothing I can do about it. I am truly doomed.”

Grace hefted one of her overly plump hounds up onto the settee beside her. “But you do love him, so it will be all right in the end. Will it not?”

“Would you want the man you loved forced to marry you out of a sense of duty? He never wanted to marry, Gracie. Never!” Fortuity hugged herself tighter as she made another circuit around the room. The hot chocolate she had forced down hours ago raged in her stomach like a stormy sea. It would surely be a miracle if it didn’t come sloshing back out. “And Chance is less than delighted with what happened. Did you see his face at breakfast?”

“That is only because your marriage of convenience does not satisfy the requirements of Mama and Papa’s will. He knows if Mr. Sutherland gets wind of your marrying for the sole reason of saving the rest of us from ruin, things will get messy, and he might never come into the full of his inheritance. You know how Chance hates the restrictions of his monthly stipend. He considers himself a duke in name only until all of us are happily married, and Mr. Sutherland presents him with the key to all the coffers.”

Fortuity gave up on pacing and plopped down onto the lounge in front of the hearth. “I cannot marry him, Gracie. Not like this. It isn’t right. Not when I love him, but he does not love me.” Her stomach churned harder, making her curl her toes and tense to keep from casting up her accounts. “I would only end up loving him more, and when he eventually took a mistress, it would break my heart.”

“Why would you think he would take a mistress?” Grace scratched behind her dog’s floppy ears until the beast started kicking its back leg in delight. “Did you sleep any last night? Your arguments are weak this morning, and that is so unlike you.”

Serendipity and Merry entered the room, their cautious expressions tensing Fortuity even more.

“He is here to speak with Chance, isn’t he?” She clapped a hand over her mouth and concentrated on slow, deep breaths to keep from being ill.

“Oh dear. She has gone quite green.” Merry rushed to the bellpull and rang for the maid.

Serendipity sat beside Fortuity on the lounge, grabbed her by the back of the neck, and forced her to bend forward and put her head between her knees. “Breathe in and hold it to a count of five, then breathe out, and do it all over again.”

Fortuity twisted away and straightened. “I am not about to swoon, Seri. I am about to eject my breakfast chocolate into the chamber pot.”

Her sister gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “But I thought you were quite fond of Lord Ravenglass?”

“I shall ask you”—Fortuity turned and glared at Merry—“and you as well, the same thing I asked Gracie. Would either of you wish for the man you loved to be forced to marry you?”

Merry shrugged. “It would simplify things, actually.”

“What?” Fortuity stared at her, unable to understand her youngest sister’s reasoning.

“Once married, he would be trapped, and I would have more time to make him love me back.” Merry bobbed a satisfied nod. “Much easier than trying to win him when he still had options.”

Serendipity gave young Merry an impressed look. “I agree completely.”

Fortuity sagged forward and held her head in her hands. “The two of you defy logic.”

“Why?” Merry asked. “Because we know how to make the best of a situation?”

“She thinks he will take a mistress,” Grace told them in an overly loud whisper.

Fortuity lifted her head. “I can still hear you.”

“Good. Then listen to me when I say that Lord Ravenglass would not take a mistress. Essie’s husband was the rake—not your Ravenglass. I’ve not heard a single disparaging word about your man until last night.” Grace clamped her mouth tightly shut, then covered it with her hand.

“Indeed, you should clap a hand over your mouth, sister!” Serendipity glared at Grace. “That is not at all helpful.” She returned her attention to Fortuity, rubbing and patting her back as if she suffered from colic and needed to break wind. “I did overhear some news you are sure to find encouraging.”

Fortuity allowed herself a despondent sigh. “What news?”

“The Sykesburys have moved to a small village in the Lake District. Permanently. Or, at least, they leave for their new home today, so you won’t have the displeasure of sharing a household with Eleanor.”

“That is a bit of a bright point.” Although, to be honest, Fortuity hadn’t even gotten that far in her worries. She felt sure she would have eventually dreaded living under the same roof as Eleanor but simply hadn’t thought of it yet. “How long does he intend to stay?” she asked Serendipity.

Her sister frowned. “How long does who intend to stay where? Lord Ravenglass? Here, today?”

“Who else, Seri?” Fortuity groaned and rocked forward, hugging her middle. How had life become such a mess so quickly?

“Sorry. I was still reveling in Eleanor’s departure before she wreaked any more havoc.” Serendipity rose from the lounge. “I am unsure how long Lord Ravenglass intends to stay, but he inquired about you, and left me with the impression that he would not be averse to seeing you.” She offered a compassionate tip of her head. “The question is: do you feel well enough to go downstairs and see him? You have gone a bit pale again.”

“But she’s not as green.” Merry came forward with a cup and offered it to Fortuity. “I had Jenny bring it up. It’s one of her best tonics for settling ill humors.” When Fortuity didn’t move to take it, Merry pushed it into her hands. “It’s minty and not foul at all. Nothing like the tonics from Mrs. Flackney and Mama we used to have to take.”

Fortuity sniffed the pale concoction that resembled weak tea. It did indeed smell of mint. She hazarded a sip, hoping it would calm her breakfast beverage that was churning to escape her stomach.

“See? Not terrible at all.”

Merry’s usual cheeriness grated on Fortuity’s nerves, but she kept herself from snapping at her well-meaning sister by taking another sip. “No. Not terrible at all,” she said, wishing the remedy would ease her tumultuous feelings as effectively as it calmed her stomach. “I suppose I shall go down now and discover what Matthew and Chance have decided about my future.” Tears that begged to be cried stung her eyes, making her blink faster. Why should she even call it her future when it was quite clear that nothing about it was within her control?

She mentally shook herself. Wallowing in self-pity did nothing but make her weaker. She might not have control over what happened to her, but she controlled how she reacted to it. After all, she was a writer and created such dramatic plots all the time. How would she write her heroine’s way out of this? Deuced if she knew.

She rose from the lounge and set the cup on the table. “Is everyone ready, then? I am sure you all wish to overhear what is discussed between my future husband and myself.”

Serendipity and Merry gave her astonished looks while Grace glared at her and said, “Shall I fetch Felicity and Joy so you can bathe them in this lovely mood of yours?”

A twinge of guilt nipped at Fortuity. This situation was not her sisters’ fault. “Forgive me. You three are not the enemy.”

“You know we will help you in any way we can,” Serendipity said.

“And if he does choose to take a mistress, we will make him sorry,” Grace promised.

“We swear,” Merry added.

“A sister cannot ask for more than that.” Fortuity led the way downstairs and turned into the hall leading to the parlor.

“Library,” Serendipity called out from behind her. “Chance had loads of paperwork to sort through, so they are in the library.”

Of course they were in the library, what with the marriage agreement details to settle. Fortuity shifted directions, accessing the different hallway by using the servants’ corridor. The closer she drew to the room, the harder her heart pounded. She knew what she wanted and prayed she could convince Chance and Matthew to add it to the contract. After a hard swallow, she pushed onward, quickening her pace and feeling like a lamb headed for slaughter. At the closed library door, she halted and knocked.

“Yes?” Chance’s response came quickly and wasn’t as surly as she’d expected.

“It is Fortuity, Chance,” she said, “along with three members of the flock to uphold my confidence, I suppose you could say.”

The door opened, and she immediately found herself floundering in the concern filling Matthew’s flinty gray eyes. “Matthew,” she whispered, then corrected herself and said louder, “Lord Ravenglass.”

Disappointment furrowed his brow. “I prefer Matthew.”

She curtsied, then stepped around him, entering the room with her sisters in tow. Heart still pounding, she braced herself for the men’s reactions as she put forth the only condition over which she hoped to have any control. The condition that would not only save her pride but also her heart in this untenable situation. “I have a request,” she told her brother as she halted in front of his desk.

Standing beside his leather wingback chair as he waited for his sisters to be seated, Chance fixed her with a warning look. “Fortuity, you understand the ramifications should you refuse Lord Ravenglass’s offer of marriage?”

“I do not intend to refuse it.”

Her infuriating brother had the audacity to smile. “Good, then I believe he and I have come up with a most agreeable marriage contract.”

“I wish to add something,” she said, squaring her shoulders. She didn’t dare look at Matthew, fearing she would lose her nerve.

“Add something?” Chance motioned for her to sit, then seated himself as well.

“Whatever it is, give it to her.” Matthew lowered himself into the chair next to her.

Chance glanced to the right at Serendipity and ratcheted both brows higher.

She shook her head and shrugged.

“Seri has no idea, Chance. This request came to me on the way down here.” Fortuity folded her hands in her lap. “I wish for this union, this marriage of convenience, to be in name only. We may reside under the same roof to keep up appearances, but that is all.”

“In name only?” Matthew repeated, appearing dumbfounded.

“Yes, as in unconsummated , my lord. A business agreement between two like-minded parties. And you will also see that my stories are published, as you previously promised.” She angled her chin higher. “After all, you stand to benefit from my generous dowry and personal holdings. It is only fair that I benefit as well from this wicked trap set by your cousin Eleanor.”

Thankfully, her voice hadn’t quivered, even though her throat ached with the need to sob. She didn’t want a marriage like this. She wanted love, happiness, and babies, and wanted all of it with Matthew. But she refused to force him, knowing he would eventually resent and grow to hate her. That would be more than she could bear.

She cleared her throat. “You may satisfy your”—she fluttered a hand, struggling for the genteel wording—“ manly requirements elsewhere. I merely ask that you be discreet so the gossips do not shred me any more than they already have.”

He stared at her, the hurt in his eyes threatening to make her crumble. “Why, Fortuity?” he asked softly as if they were the only two in the room. “Why are you doing this?”

She tightened her hands into fists, forcing herself to remain calm. She could shatter to bits later. “You made it quite clear you never wished to marry and could never offer me anything more than friendship. My addition to the agreement ensures your wishes are met while protecting my interests as well. We shall live together as friends, nothing more. Just as you wanted.”

He reached over and cupped her jaw, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. His touch threatened to break her. “What if I want more?” he asked.

“As I said…” She closed her eyes, cursing herself for the weak quiver in her voice. “You may satisfy your wants elsewhere. All I ask is discretion, my lord.” She risked opening her eyes and meeting his gaze. “I have been hurt enough by your family,” she whispered. “Please bring no further harm or humiliation upon me.”

“I wish you to be my wife. Utterly. Completely.” His stare hardened to a piercing glare. “I have sworn to protect you because I care about you and your family.”

“You prove my point, my lord. This offer of marriage is out of duty, not love. I am merely defining your duty and making it less odious to you so we might remain friends.”

Matthew scrubbed his jaw. With a low, throaty growl, he bared his teeth. “Everyone out. I wish to speak to my future wife alone.”

“I am not comfortable with that, Ravenglass. Not in your current frame of mind.” Chance glanced at the trio of sisters lined up on the settee against the wall, then curtly nodded at the door. “I shall remain. Sisters, you may leave.”

Serendipity, Grace, and Merry quickly filed out and softly closed the door behind them.

Fortuity forced herself to stare straight ahead, focusing on the cluttered bookcase behind Chance’s desk. It needed dusting. Did he never let the maids in here? Maybe if she concentrated on such ridiculous things, the pounding of her heart would calm and the sickening weight in her stomach would lighten.

“Are you afraid to speak to me alone, Fortuity?” Matthew asked.

She refused to look at him. Instead, she pulled in a deep breath and held it to a count of five before releasing it and answering. “I am not afraid to speak to him, Chance. Lord Ravenglass would never physically harm me.” He would break her heart and shatter her dreams, but she knew he would never lift a hand to strike her. “You may wait in the hall with the others while he says whatever he has to say to me.”

“You are dismissing me from my own library?” Her brother snorted in disbelief.

“According to our esteemed solicitor, Mr. Sutherland the elder, until you marry us all off for love and come into the entirety of your inheritance, this library belongs to the estate, not to you or any one of us.”

“God help you,” Chance told Matthew before he pushed up from his desk, charged out of the room, and thumped the door shut behind him.

“Why are you doing this?” Matthew asked with such heartfelt quietness that she flinched.

“I already answered that question once, my lord,” she said without looking at him, reminding herself that she had to be strong. “I daresay my answer has not changed since a few moments ago.”

“What if I told you I wished to marry you because…”

His voice trailed off, making her huff a mirthless laugh. She shifted in her seat and faced him. “You cannot finish that thought, can you?” Her poor Matthew was honest to a fault. She doubted the man could lie if his life depended on it. “Finish your sentence, Lord Ravenglass.”

“Fortuity, I wish to marry you because I need to marry you.”

“Need?” She shook her head and huffed again. “Why? Because of duty? Your friendship with my brother, the duke ? Or your friendship with Thorne and my sister?” She forced herself to stiffen her spine and sit taller. “You loved a woman once. Loved her enough to ask her to be your wife. Do you feel for me what you once felt for her?”

“It is not the same.”

“Exactly.” She sagged into the depths of the chair with the conclusion that attempting to remain strong was extraordinarily wearying and not entirely worth the effort. “You do not love me. You are marrying me for every reason except love. That is why I wish our union to be in name only. I will not be used any more than I already have been.”

“I have never used you.”

“Perhaps not you personally, but you see, dear Matthew, women are pawns in this ridiculous Society in which we live. Our families barter us to align bloodlines, bring forth heirs, and increase fortunes. One would think we are no better than pedigreed hounds or purebred horses. And sometimes, in this unjust game for females, we are taken or given out of pity or duty because a player moved incorrectly across the board and must be penalized for breaking Society’s rules.” She gulped in a breath of air, realizing too late that she had forgotten to breathe during her heartfelt speech. She braced herself for his response.

Once again, he stared at her in open-mouthed amazement.

“Well?” She gripped the arms of the chair, digging her fingernails into the padded upholstery. “Does that clarify things for you, my lord?”

He slowly smiled and shook his head. “You are by far the most exquisite woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Thank God Almighty you are to be my wife.”

She studied him with increasing leeriness. He had never been known to behave as though his mind had left him, but perhaps he had sustained a blow to the head of which she was unaware. “What?”

“You are exquisite.” Admiration shone in his eyes and echoed in his tone. “I shall obtain the special license this afternoon so we may marry before week’s end.”

“Before week’s end?”

“Yes.”

“So you accept the terms I wish to be added to the marriage agreement?” She wasn’t budging on what she had requested and couldn’t imagine his denying her. After all, the Lord Ravenglass she knew and oh so woefully loved would never force himself upon a woman, even if she was his wife.

“I will not lie to you and say that I like your terms, but if you insist on a marriage in name only or no marriage at all, it does not appear I have a choice, since I refuse to bring shame upon you and your family.” But his expression gave her pause, making her wonder what he was plotting. “I already promised to do everything in my power to help you realize your dream of seeing your stories in print, so that point is irrelevant.”

“I see.” She cleared her throat. “Well, then.” Now what the devil would she do? Marry him, of course, as she had no other choice. “I assume we shall remain in London until summer?”

He offered her a sultry grin that threatened to make her squirm. “Is that what you wish, my lady?”

She attempted a nonchalant shrug. “My wishes are not relevant in this matter. Your presence in the House of Lords during the session is.”

“I have completed what is required of me during this session. Would a change of scenery, some time in the country, stir your muse and enable you to write more stories?”

He was up to something. She could smell it as plainly as the disgusting dish of onions, kidneys, and livers that she’d once told Mama would serve better as rat poison than dinner. That statement had required her to apologize to Cook and be sent to bed without her supper, which had achieved her goal of avoiding the meal entirely. But she couldn’t read his expression or the emotions in his eyes, so she erred on the side of caution. “If it pleases you and your schedule, I prefer to stay in London until Blessing is safely delivered of my new little niece or nephew.” She couldn’t help but smile. “I am eager to meet him or her.”

Matthew smiled back, and the rigid set of his broad shoulders appeared to relax. “Of course. I had forgotten about little Aloysius Starpeeper Knightwood’s upcoming arrival.”

Fortuity laughed with a very unladylike snort. “Oh my word, I fear I shall remember that name every time I cradle that precious child in my arms.”

“I wonder what they shall call little Starpeeper if he is a she?”

“Perhaps Arabella Starpeeper Knightwood?” Fortuity snorted again, then covered her mouth. “Oh dear, forgive me. I am making the rudest of sounds.”

He seemed suddenly sad. “I love your sounds when you laugh and want our future to be a happy one, Fortuity. Truly, I do.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and nervously chewed on it. “I cannot fathom what our future holds,” she whispered. “I fear it, Matthew.”

“Our future holds whatever we choose to place within it.”

His words made her shake her head. “Platitudes, my lord. The future is not a sturdy bucket to be trusted. One never knows when the bottom will fall out and all your hopes and dreams will wash away—lost, never to be regained.”

“What are your hopes and dreams, my little wren? Truthfully. Tell me so I might help you not only fulfill them, but protect them.”

She hitched in a quick breath at the depth of his sincerity. “I no longer know, Matthew.” With an apologetic shrug, she offered him a sad smile. “And that is the truth of it. I no longer know.”

He dropped his head and shifted with a heavy sigh. “I understand.”

Biting her lip to keep from saying that she truly doubted that he did, she bowed her head with a humble nod. She would adapt to this new life that fate, Society, and Eleanor had seen fit to give her. One way or another, she would adapt.

*

“I want something original because the lady I am about to marry is beyond compare.” Matthew slid the velvet display box back toward the jeweler. “And I need it today.”

“Today, my lord?” The short, thin man with the longest fingers Matthew had ever seen puckered his mouth as if he had just tasted something extraordinarily tart. He repositioned his wire-rimmed spectacles higher on the bridge of his nose, then drummed his long, spidery fingers on the countertop. “Today is quite short notice for a ring like no other.”

“What a pity, Mr. Eibertson.” Matthew knew exactly how to compel the master jeweler to reveal the items he always held back for the most discriminating of customers. “In my travels, your creations are renowned not only for their beauty but how you seem to pluck them out of thin air upon the whim of your clients.” He offered the artisan a polite nod and stepped back from the counter. “Thank you for your time, sir. I shall see if Mr. Lewisry can create what I require.”

The reedy little man gasped, and his eyes flared wide with fiery indignance. “I assure you a Lewisry creation does not compare with that of an Eibertson.” He rounded the counter, hurried to the door, and locked it. With a fluttering of his long fingers, he implored Matthew to follow him through a curtained-off archway at the back of the shop. “I just remembered a piece that might meet your requirements, Lord Ravenglass.”

Matthew smiled to himself as he joined the man in his private workroom, which resembled what Matthew imagined a garden of gemstone blooms with gold and silver greenery might look like. “Impressive.”

Mr. Eibertson accepted the compliment with a pleased nod as he unlocked a cabinet and withdrew a black velvet box from its depths. “I assume you are familiar with the regard rings that have become quite common?”

“Regard rings?”

“Yes. Some call them dearest rings.” The craftsman lit another oil lamp and motioned Matthew closer. “Acrostic rings where the first letters of the gemstone’s names spell regard : ruby, emerald, garnet, amethyst, ruby, and diamond.” He lifted the lid of the small ring box and proudly turned it to face Matthew. “In my opinion, the word regard feels aloof. Informal. If one is your dearest , then why should you water down the sentiment to regard ? I give you the Eibertson dearest ring. The only one of its kind.”

The arrangement of gemstones, faceted and polished to create the utmost sparkle, was exactly what Matthew wanted. “Diamond, emerald, amethyst, ruby, emerald, sapphire, and topaz. Set in a gold band. Exquisite, Mr. Eibertson, except for one thing.” He pulled the ring from its velvet pillow and handed it to the jeweler. “I would like the word trust engraved inside the band.”

With an avaricious smile, the artisan took the ring and the lamp and moved to a workbench beside the counter. He donned a pair of glasses with thicker lenses and selected a burin, a hardened steel spire with a handle, from his rack of tools. After what appeared to be an entirely inadequate amount of time, he returned to Matthew and handed him the ring to inspect. “Will that do, my lord?”

The word Trust now lived on the inside of the widest portion of the band, inscribed in a delicate script. “Mr. Eibertson, this ring shall become a Ravenglass family heirloom passed down through many generations.”

The jeweler bowed. “I am honored, my lord.”

Matthew took out his wallet and placed banknotes on the counter until the jeweler nodded for him to stop. Well pleased with his purchase, he secured the beribboned velvet box deep inside his pocket. “Thank you, Mr. Eibertson. You have been most helpful.”

“Congratulations, my lord, on your upcoming nuptials. May you be blessed with years of prosperity and happiness.”

Prosperity and happiness, Matthew repeated to himself as he exited the shop and returned to his carriage. He was not so much concerned about prosperity as he was happiness. Fortuity’s request for a marriage in name only had stunned him, but the more he thought about it, the more he understood her motive. She feared he would resent her for forcing him into something he had sworn he would never do. But she had not forced his hand. Eleanor had. And that was hardly the point now, because this twist of fate had given him the shove he needed to admit that he had feelings for Fortuity, feelings that went far beyond friendship.

But she wouldn’t believe him now. Not when he’d sworn to all and sundry that they would never be anything more than friends, and had so poorly tied his own tongue when attempting to explain how he truly felt when they had met again that day in the library.

“I am such a bloody fool.” He scrubbed a hand across his mouth, then rested his hand on the pocket bulging with the ring box. This was a start in reparations—the first onslaught in his war to win Fortuity’s trust, earn her forgiveness, and convince her he would cherish her heart for all time, if only she could find the courage to entrust him with it.