Page 30 of The Duke that I Lost

There was no possible way she would remember any of these people, and yet she found herself enjoying every minute of it.

Through it all, Dash, her pretend husband, remained at her side, leaning close to ask her to repeat a name to him every so often or else making a comment about something in one of the booths.

More than once, he asked for her opinion; did she prefer jam or pudding?

What was her favorite season? Mr. Wooten put a glass of ale in each of their hands and eventually they were left on their own, drifting apart, and then back together, as they explored the vendor’s wares and aromatic offerings.

“Come with me, princesse .” Dash tugged her away from a lady selling baskets and feathered hats to where a woman with long black hair streaked with gray, wearing colorful silks and sparkling jewels, beckoned them.

“Lovely lady, come inside and learn the secrets of your future.”

“This is Madam Nadya. She is going to read our fortunes.” Dash led Ambrosia into the darkened booth before she could protest. The idea of letting a stranger attempt to read her future was nothing she ever would have considered back in Rockford Beach.

Winifred would have deemed it the work of the devil.

Even knowing it was all in fun, as Ambrosia entered the darkened tent, she shivered.

“She feeds her grandchildren this way,” Dash murmured low, his gaze flicking toward three small children huddled in the corner. His voice was a quiet rumble meant for her alone. “She will not take charity, non . But she accepts coin, eh bien , in exchange for telling fortunes.”

Then, louder, with a smile that tugged at his mouth: “So, princesse , what do you say? “Shall we see what fortune has in store for us?”

Although the heavily made-up woman in the tent, with her flowing scarves and exotic perfume, seemed utterly foreign, there was nothing to fear. Any magical powers would be nothing more than an illusion.

Ambrosia looked over her shoulder at Dash and smiled. “Yes, please.” It would be something else she could remember in the days, in the weeks, possibly years, to come.

“Your… husband is very kind. Come in, please, and be seated.” The woman spoke with an accent Ambrosia didn’t quite recognize. “We shall see what the future holds for you both.”

Ambrosia and Dash lowered themselves onto a bench set before a table covered with red velvet. Flames flickered from several candles placed there, creating dancing highlights and shadows along the canvas walls.

A pot of hot water sat on a small stove, as well as a dish of burning incense that sent up a thin line of smoke, permeating the space with a spicy and unfamiliar scent.

When the woman closed the flap of the tent, muting the noise from outside, the silence in the room caused Ambrosia to sit up straight.

Shifting the dishes with deliberate care, Madam Nadya’s bracelets chimed softly in the gloom.

Her voice rose low and lilting, as though carrying some ancient cadence.

“Fix your minds upon a single question. Call it forth, and let your thoughts reach out… to the powers that stir in all living things.”

Dash flashed a grin in Ambrosia’s direction. Of course, he did not believe in fortune telling. Ambrosia didn’t either and yet, the temptation to have an answer, any answer, to some of the questions in her mind was strong. Ambrosia closed her eyes and thought of her question.

Madam Nadya turned and approached them carrying two empty teacups, each resting in a saucer. After placing them on the table, she then brought over a tray with a spoon and a canister of what Ambrosia presumed to be tea.

“While thinking of your question, spoon the tea into your cup.”

Ambrosia could feel Dash’s stare on her, and she knew he found the whole exercise terribly amusing. Still, she did exactly as Madam Nadya instructed. Then, with all due seriousness, she handed the spoon to the smirking man beside her.

She met his eyes and frowned. “Please, do not make a joke of this.”

His eyebrows shot up, but he nodded. “Of course. My apologies.” He then carefully scooped a spoonful of tea leaves into his own empty cup.

“I will pour the water. When it is cool enough to drink, do so, but leave enough to cover the remaining tea leaves at the bottom of the cup. Now, hold the handle of your teacup with your left hand, please.” The fortune teller carried over the kettle of water and steam swirled out of the cups as she poured into each.

“Set the power of your mind upon the answer to your question. The leaves will find the answer as you drink.”

The tea was weak but had been blended with spices Ambrosia couldn’t quite place. She gave the water a moment to cool and then sipped carefully from her cup.

“Just one question?” Ambrosia asked, making certain she understood. She wanted to know the answers to so many things. Will I be happy in London? Will I be accepted? But she could not deny the one that burned in her mind as the most vital.

After we part in London, will I ever see him again?

Madam Nadya nodded, and so she ran the words through her mind, over and over again. Occasionally she slid a sideways glance in his direction. He was being serious now. They sipped the tea silently. The quiet was only broken by the sounds of the children as they quietly played on the floor.

“Now tip the last of the water onto the saucer,” Madam Nadya instructed. “After a moment turn it upright again and I will read your leaves.”

Again, Ambrosia did exactly as she said. Looking into her cup with the tea leaves plastered against the porcelain, she continued chanting the question in her mind.

Will I see him again?

The woman’s streaked hair spilled forward as she took Ambrosia’s cup and stared into it. She seemed to be nodding to herself before she set the cup down and met Ambrosia’s eyes.

“The answer to your question is not as simple as you would like.” She pointed into the cup.

“See the heavy clusters of leaves here, near the handle? That is the immediate, the now. It is strong. But then around the rim and all along the sides—nothing. But in the bottom, another cluster, even stronger than the first. And so the answer to your question is yes, but then no. And then again, far into the future, yes.”

“How far into the future?” Ambrosia asked, despite feeling his curious stare on her.

“That, my child, I do not know. It could be as short as a dozen new moons, but it could also be in another life.”

With that answer, Ambrosia slumped back onto the bench. It meant nothing, she knew. It was foolishness.

Besides, she did not want to think she would have to wait until another lifetime to see him again.

“And you, sir.” The madam took Mr. Beckman’s cup and studied it intently. “The leaves form the shape of what would be the wings of a bird, except the wings have been broken.” She frowned. “There is another set of wings in the bottom of the cup, however. Eventually you shall be free.”

And then, with a slow closing of her eyes, Madam Nadya leaned back in her chair and released a long, theatrical breath. Her voice dropped into a hushed cadence, each word heavy with portent.

“I see before you shadows and storms… great trials that will test the very marrow of your souls. Yet beyond them, if you remain true—loyal to the call of your hearts—there lies great happiness. Seize it. Embrace not tomorrow, but the here… the now.”

Dash rose from the bench, laying some money on the table. “Many thanks, Madam Nadya.” He did not sound as though he’d heard anything earth shattering. He sounded, rather, as though he’d just purchased a sack of flour.

“Thank you, Madam.” Ambrosia smiled at the woman, wishing the answer to her question had been a different one.

As they moved to exit the tent, though, the woman reached out and clasped her by the wrist. “Have faith. You are strong. Have courage, my dear, but ultimately, you must trust your heart.” She then just as abruptly released her.

Ambrosia blinked several times as they stepped back out into the light, her eyes watering from the strength of the setting sunlight.

Dash took hold of her arm. “There is a booth selling meat pies a little way down. Shall we grab something to eat?”

Ambrosia looked at him askance at first. How could he eat at a time like this? But then…

Embrace the here and now.

His smile was warm and the light in his eyes, tender.

“Yes, let’s!” she responded. She would not mourn their certain parting in the near future while they still had time together. “I’m starving,” she added.

He did not offer her his arm but took her hand in his, threading their fingers together, and as though they truly were a couple, he led the way.

They ate meat pastries and drank ale, and as the village was a small one, were wished happiness in their new marriage by several of the merrymakers around them.

“You are enjoying yourselves?” Mr. Wooten joined them at one of the tables that had been set out.

“Mr. Keller! Mrs. Keller! These are the guests that I told you about. They are just married and traveling to London.” By this time a good deal of ale had been consumed by most everyone and the atmosphere had become somewhat raucous.

The Kellers were a younger couple. They carried tankards of ale in each of their hands and sat down across from where Ambrosia and Mr. Beckman sat. “We, too, are recently wed,” Mr. Keller announced and then proceeded to gaze lovingly into his wife’s eyes before pressing a kiss to her lips.

The affection between the two of them was a palpable thing and it made Ambrosia wish... She shook her head. She was a widow. She’d been married not quite a decade. Who was she to wish for something so frivolous?

The couple lingered over their kiss, the man’s arm pulling his wife close. Ambrosia had never seen such a bold display as that in all her time in Rockford Beach.

The emotions between the couple did not appear frivolous in this moment. They were powerful, passionate. The two were obviously very much in love.

When they drew away from one another, the young Mr. Keller winked and grinned toward Dash and then, lifting a spoon, began tapping it against his tankard of ale.

And then his wife began doing the same.

And then several others around them.

“It means you must kiss her!” Mrs. Keller shouted from across the table. “It is a village tradition for all the newlyweds.”

Ambrosia and Dash were sitting on the same bench beside one another but had not been touching until now, as he dropped one arm around her shoulders.

They had told the Wootens that they were married. They’d told everyone, in fact, and it had been Ambrosia who had declared that they were, in fact, newly married.

She had really gotten them into trouble with that little embellishment, hadn’t she?

She turned to stare up at Dash in concern, but he didn’t seem overly troubled by their present predicament. In fact, his gaze had dropped from her eyes down to her mouth. She watched his lips as he licked them.

“Well then, Madame Beckman. It’s tradition, after all.”