Page 8 of Tempting a Lonely Lord (The Rakes of Mayhem #6)

As the small group entered the apothecary, Bella’s mouth watered from the aromas of chocolate, citrus, almond, and cinnamon swirling in the air.

“And she will tell us about the pirates?” Michael asked.

“She may know a lot about pirates in the area,” Bella said, in awe of her grandmothers, both enjoying showing this little boy a good time.

“I feel certain she will,” Lady Bridgewater said, nodding to a woman sitting in the back, enjoying a pot of tea. “Elise, doesn’t that look like the Roma gypsy in the corner?”

“Arf!” Lacey barked as if to remind them of her presence.

“Good dog,” Michael said. “I promised her a biscuit. I should probably give her a biscuit before I eat one.”

“And she listened to you? You met her only yesterday,” Lady Bridgewater said, with a hint of surprise. “And giving a biscuit to her before you eat one is very generous. You can have mine—once we are seated and have ordered. I had one with my tea for breakfast.”

“Thank you!” the little boy said, looking around the room. “I’m very excited. Aren’t you, Lacey?”

The dog thumped her tail excitedly on the wooden floor.

“If you will excuse me, we would like to speak to the lady in the back,” Lady Harrington said. “Bella, we will be right back.”

Bella nodded as her grandmothers stepped away to speak with the Roma gypsy. Bella was curious about the woman, but didn’t want to crowd the fortune teller, especially with a boy and dog in tow. Her grandmothers were all smiles when they returned a few minutes later.

“Madame Vorest will talk to us,” Grandmère said, leading the way. “She is most gracious. “And she is most keen on sharing the story about the pirate’s treasure.”

“I can’t wait,” Michael said, excitedly rubbing his little hands.

“What a lovely boy and young lady,” the gypsy cooed as she waved them over to her table. “Come here, my dear girl, and sit by me.”

The server rushed to add more chairs around the table and take their orders.

“You are most kind to indulge us,” Lady Harrington said. “This is Michael, a dear friend of our family.”

“I want to hear about the pirates, if you please,” he said, puffing out his chest.

“Ah… the pirate tale. I will be glad to speak of it.” Madame Vorest looked at Michael. “The story is certain to capture your imagination. But first, who is this beautiful young woman?” she asked, grabbing Bella’s hand.

“This is our granddaughter, Lady Bella Connolly,” Lady Harrington said.

Bella’s lips curved up into a polite smile.

“I’m glad to meet you, Madame Vorest.” The old woman intrigued Bella, and yet there was something about the fortune teller that made her nervous as well.

Madame Vorest had expressive brown eyes and dark, wavy hair threaded with silver that cascaded about her shoulders.

A bright scarf covered the top of her head, keeping her hair in place.

She wore layers of vibrant, patterned skirts—red, gold, and emerald—that complemented her earrings and bangle bracelets.

Bella was fascinated by the freedom that her clothing gave her—a big improvement, she thought, over the underclothing that she had to wear.

“So, young man, you are interested in pirates,” Madame Vorest said, gently taking Michael’s small hand in hers. She turned it over and looked at it. “This line tells me you have a strong spirit of adventure. I can see why you want to know about pirates.”

“One day, I want to have my own ship and sail the seas!” he exclaimed.

“All the seas?”

“Yes… and sail all over the world.”

“Well, certainly the treasure would help with that,” the gypsy said, smiling.

“It will be my first treasure. But I will work hard and find more,” he said. “I’ll have to find myself a deep, dark cave somewhere, so I can use it to hide all the treasure chests I’ll discover on my journeys.”

“Of course,” Madame Vorest said, nodding in agreement.

“Young man, this is a very old tale, maybe two hundred years old. There is a place in Dover near the sea with a buried treasure—treasure that has been buried for more than two hundred years. Many have searched for this treasure, but no one has found it. It is said that the treasure is in a wooden chest, lined with velvet and filled with jewels.”

“What kind of jewels?” Michael asked in a voice filled with awe.

“Oh, perhaps diamonds and rubies… emeralds, too,” she added.

“What was the pirate’s name?” Michael asked, his eyes shining with curiosity as he leaned forward.

“I don’t recall, my little lord,” the gypsy replied with a mysterious smile, her voice low and melodic. Her dark eyes glittered with mischief as she added, “But names are not what make a story memorable. Now, would you like to hear the tale?”

“Yes, please,” Michael said with a firm nod. “If I don’t know the story well, then I won’t be able to find the treasure.”

“Hmm… That is very astute, Master Michael,” the dowager countess said with a knowing wink, her tone teasing but affectionate.

“Please, begin with your tale,” Lady Harrington encouraged her with a warm smile.

The old woman inclined her head, her bangle bracelets and earrings catching the light as she began. “There once was a pirate and a prince,” she said, her voice weaving the words with the cadence of a spell.

Bella watched as Michael leaned forward, completely captivated, his small hands gripping the edge of his chair. She even found herself drawn in, despite the faint prickle of unease at the back of her mind.

“The pirate,” the old woman continued, “was bold and daring, with charm enough to steal more than gold. He vowed to win the hand of a beautiful young maiden, offering her a chest of jewels—treasures plundered from far-off lands. But the prince”—she paused, her tone softening—“had no such riches. He offered her only his heart—pure and true. Now, tell me, mon petit , who do you think she chose?”

Michael scrunched up his face, his nose wrinkling as he considered the question. With dramatic flair, he declared, “The pirate!” Then his face twisted into an overly exaggerated “blech” that sent Bella and the older women into a fit of laughter.

The gypsy woman chuckled, her bangles jingling as she reached out to tap Michael on the nose.

“Ah, but you see, the pirate was lost at sea in a terrible storm on his way to retrieve his treasure. The maiden, clever as she was, saw the truth behind his glittering promise and chose the prince’s heart instead.

They married and lived happily ever after. ”

Michael groaned, crossing his arms with a pout. “Blech,” he said again, clearly unimpressed. “I would’ve picked the pirate. Sailing the world on a ship sounds much more fun than being stuck in some boring castle with a prince.”

The women laughed again, but Bella’s thoughts wandered.

There was something about the gypsy’s story—something that prickled at the edges of her memory.

She’d heard rumors before, whispered tales of a smuggler’s treasure hidden somewhere near the cliffs.

It was said there were tunnels beneath the ground, carved long ago by men who risked their lives for illicit trade.

As the laughter subsided, the old woman’s gaze shifted. Her dark, knowing eyes met Bella’s, and for a moment, the room seemed to still. A shiver ran through Bella, as if the gypsy’s gaze had peeled back the layers of the story, revealing a deeper truth meant only for her.

She swallowed hard and looked away, but the feeling lingered. The pirate in the story may have been lost at sea, but she couldn’t shake the thought that another, far more dangerous pirate might truly exist.

“I wonder where it could be,” Michael whispered.

“No one has been fortunate enough to uncover it,” the gypsy replied, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial hush.

The room seemed to draw closer around her as she spoke.

“Countless souls have been drawn to the promise of unimaginable riches. They say the treasure lies on a property that hugs the shoreline, buried deep within a hidden tunnel that leads to the sea. Many brave men have risked everything to find it, but all have returned empty-handed—if they returned at all.”

As Bella listened intently, the gypsy’s words conjured vivid images of daring pirates and hidden passageways, and her thoughts began to wander again.

She found herself thinking back to the other day, to her first encounter with Viscount William Dudley.

It was a day painted in the sharp hues of memory—so vivid she could almost feel the sea breeze on her face again.

She had thought herself unlucky at first, nearly tumbling down the rocky cliff toward the ocean after getting her foot caught in soft soil and twigs.

But the viscount had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, catching her before she fell.

His golden hair had caught the sunlight, and his sky-blue eyes held both concern and a charm she hadn’t expected.

She’d thanked him, flustered, only to catch the flicker of a smile that had lingered in her mind ever since.

Her gaze shifted to Michael, whose rapt attention was fixed on the gypsy.

Caves, Bella thought suddenly. Were there caves on her father’s—no, her uncle’s—land?

The idea sent a ripple of curiosity through her.

She knew the cliffs were riddled with rocky crags and crevices, but could one of them lead to the legendary tunnel? And if so, what secrets might it hold?

She shook herself slightly, returning her attention to the gypsy’s story, though the thought lingered. Perhaps the treasure wasn’t the only mystery waiting to be uncovered along the shoreline.

Could she have stepped through the roof of one of those caves that day?

Looking back, she recalled that the ground had been loose and didn’t feel as solid beneath her feet.

She also remembered that she had stepped into something, causing her to lose her balance. She’d have to be careful in the future.

“That is all I know of the tale of the pirate’s treasure, young man,” the gypsy concluded, her words lingering in the air like a whispered secret. Then her dark gaze shifted to Bella, and her expression softened. “My dear, I could not help but notice the worry in your eyes.”

With a graceful movement, the Roma gypsy reached across the table, her fingers warm against Bella’s skin as she took her hand.

Her touch was delicate yet grounding, and as she gently turned Bella’s palm upward, she began to trace the faint lines etched there.

Her fingers glided over Bella’s lifeline with an almost reverent precision.

“I can sense that you are destined for great love in the future,” the gypsy murmured, her melodic voice carrying a mysterious weight. But then her expression darkened, a shadow passing over her features. “However,” she added in a lower tone, “there will also be great danger…”

Bella froze, her breath catching in her throat. Startled, she pulled her hand back as if burned, a chill racing down her spine at the gypsy’s forbidding words.

“You are scaring my granddaughter. Why?” Grandmère demanded, her voice sharp with anger and protectiveness.

The gypsy lowered her gaze, her demeanor suddenly contrite. “I am sorry, my lady,” she said softly. “But her fortune needed to be told. She must know what it contains—for her own sake.”

Bella’s heart hammered in her chest as she stared at the gypsy, torn between disbelief and unease. The room seemed to grow quieter, the air heavier, as if the weight of the woman’s words had cast a shadow over them all.

“But you didn’t ask her…” blustered her grandmother, frustrated. “I asked if you would talk about the pirate treasure, not danger and great love.”

“Wh-why or h-how would I be in danger?” Bella asked, her voice sounding wobbly, even to herself.

“I do not know the details and cannot say, although I am sorry that I frightened you, my dear. But please do take care and be aware. When you find that great love, you will know. In here.” The fortune teller put a balled fist to her chest.

“I… thank you, Madame Vorest,” Bella said. But she didn’t feel grateful. Having danger in her future was the last thing she’d expected to hear—and the last thing she wanted.

~*~