Miss Fortune's First Kiss (Fortunes of Fate Book 9) Read online

  “Inclinations.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Because you shall be in my employ.” He supplied. “And a certain degree of professionalism must be maintained. Of course, you’ll wish to keep me appraised of the girls progress and any difficulties you might be experiencing with them.”

  “Indeed.” She agreed. “And I’ve always insisted upon an open-door policy with my employers in order to be an effective governess. I realize this may be a tad unconventional, but I am not the most conventional of governesses. What good does it do for me to raise them up if the result is that they know nothing of their own parents? Or parent, as the case may be.”

  He watched her slyly. “What good does it do indeed?”

  “Is that a dog? In my house?” An older woman with silver hair piled high on her head and dressed in elegant finery had entered the room unnoticed. With a disapproving frown she raised one hand to her chest, revealing heavy rings upon her gnarled fingers, and glowered down at Peaches. Unfortunately, the woman unadvisedly bent over and began shaking one of those fingers admonishingly at Tilde’s rather sensitive little pooch. “Outside, now! Who gave permission for this mongrel––”

  Peaches, a most submissive animal, did not require angry reprimands. Ever. And if someone deigned to speak harshly to the pup…

  “You may not want to do that–”

  But it was too late. Shivering, Peaches had already bent her back legs and was squatting purposefully on what appeared to be a valuable Persian rug.

  Had appeared to be a valuable Persian rug, that was. Tilde was not too certain such an artifact would survive the thorough cleaning it now required.

  Tilde shrugged. If the woman chose to treat an animal thusly, well then…?

  Lord Willoughby cleared his throat. “Miss Fortune, may I present my mother, the Dowager Countess of Willoughby. Mother, this is Miss Fortune. And I believe,” he turned a questioning glance toward Tilde. “Althea and Eloise’s new governess.”

  If possible, her ladyship’s frown deepened even more.

  Ignoring Tilde’s curtsey, Lady Willoughby pursed her lips. “I told you that Lady Birchenbich was willing enough to send her former help over. Is this really necessary? And a dog? Really Willoughby? The mongrel just ruined a carpet that’s been in the family for over three centuries.”

  Jasper ran one hand through his hair and then proceeded to scrub it down his face. “I believe Miss Fortune can help Althea–”

  “Oh posh! Nothing a little discipline cannot resolve.”

  Tilde straightened her spine. This woman was Jasper’s mother. She was the twin’s grandmother.

  “And I refuse to allow a dog in my house. I’m afraid Miss Fortune here is going to have to remove him at once.”

  “Peaches is a lady.” Tilde inserted.

  Jasper’s mother whirled her face around to glare daggers at Tilde.

  And then she turned to Jasper once again.

  But he was having none of his mother’s objections. “I’m afraid the decision has been made, and might I remind you mother, that this is my home? Althea responds well to the dog. Peaches is going to be a welcome addition to our household.”

  “The dog?” Lady Willoughby’s eyes widened in horror.

  “As will Miss Fortune.”

  A tense silence settled on the room and then his mother, apparently coming to a decision, withdrew her claws.

  “Of course, it is your home, darling.” Lady Willoughby said in a sickly-sweet tone. “If you wish the dog to remain, we’ll make him most welcome.” And then she wrinkled her brow, as though remembering something.

  She turned back to finally address Tilde. “Miss Fortune? You say? I believe I knew your parents. Didn’t they die under suspicious circumstances a few years back?” She stretched thin lips into a tight smile that Tilde mistrusted immediately.

  Tilde’s parents, although members of the ton, had not exactly mingled with the highest sticklers. “They died in a carriage accident, eleven years ago, my lady.”

  Lady Willoughby waved one hand in the air. “One must always speak kindly of the dead, mustn’t one?”

  “Lucky for you.” Tilde answered beneath her breath.

  “Pardon me?”

  Tilde had always been able to find something redeeming in even the most disagreeable of individuals… but in this instance, such a feat might prove to be impossible. Lady Willoughby didn’t so much seem to show affection for her son but a desire to control him. And she showed no evidence of any fondness or warmth for her granddaughters.

  Without answering, Tilde scooped Peaches off the dampened carpet and turned toward Lord Willoughby.

  Not Jasper.

  Not her first kiss.

  But toward the man who was soon to be her employer. “When would you like me to start?”

  “Would tomorrow be asking too much?” He winced at his own request. “As you’ve told me on more than one occasion…”

  Yes. The twins’ need for a governess had grown quite dire.

  “I shall arrive promptly at eight in the morning.” She was going to do this. “You and I can lay out the terms of this agreement before I officially begin my duties. If you are amenable to a meeting, then?”

  Lady Willoughby appeared horrified but Jas– Lord Willoughby appeared quite satisfied with himself.

  She’d see if he remained so tomorrow. Because terms must be agreed upon and put in writing. An independent woman had only herself to protect her circumstances.

  “Good day, Lord Willoughby. Lady Willoughby.”

  Lady Willoughby only sniffed.

  Jasper smiled.

  What had Tilde gotten herself into?

  Chapter 9

  No More Relapses

  “You’re going to work for the Earl of Willoughby?” Betsy studied Tilde skeptically in between stitching together one of her newest creations. Unbeknownst to Tilde, three different ladies had approached Betsy regarding the two dresses. They’d recognized a unique style and had wondered if the gowns had been sewn by a French dressmaker.

  It seemed they were interested in commissioning gowns for themselves.

  “I begin tomorrow.” She inserted.

  “Is that why he sought you out then?” Betsy’s brows furrowed.

  Tilde couldn’t lie to Betsy. They’d always been closest in age as well as temperament. “We have a prior acquaintance.”

  This caused Betsy to set her needle aside and give Tilde her full attention. “Did you meet him while working for Lady Brightly?”

  “Before that. Eleven years ago.” And then it all came tumbling out. “And it was much more than a prior acquaintance. He’s the first man who ever kissed me. At Vauxhall just before Mama and Papa’s accident. And obviously, it never amounted to anything… But then we happened upon one another at a small village fair outside of London last week. And he kissed me again last night. And… he’s going to be my employer. I fear it’s going to be difficult… His mother, Lady Willoughby is atrocious, but his daughters are the sweetest children imaginable, and they need me! I’m to begin tomorrow.” It felt good to tell Betsy all of this. Her sister would be quite forthcoming if she deemed the entire situation to be mad.

  “Lord Willoughby was the gentleman from Vauxhall?” The days that followed their parents’ death had been difficult for all of them. Just before news of the tragedy had arrived, however, Tilde had been filled with love sick sighs that had not gone unnoticed. Tilde was surprised that Betsy remembered.

  “I was besotted with him at the time, I’ll admit, but I’m much older and wiser now. As is he. We’ve agreed to put our former… inclinations aside. His daughters require a most excellent governess. Not just anyone. They need me. More specifically, Lady Althea needs Peaches and me.”

  “I remember you––but wait. He kissed you at Lady Elaine’s coming out ball? Last night?”

  Tilde bit her lip. “It was an unfortunate relapse. I’ve made it quite clear that there shall be no more of that. In fact, it is forgo
tten.”

  Betsy threw her hands in the air and burst into a fit of giggles. “You do remember that I was once engaged? Do you not? If you two were attracted to one another enough to––how did you put it?” Another fit of giggles. “Relapse? Oh, Tilde. How are you going to fight it while residing in the same household?”

  Tilde bent over and buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know. But we have to. If you saw those two little girls, you would understand. I could have said no to him, in fact I’m certain Miss Briggs at the agency would have understood. But Lady Eloise, she pretends to be so grown up in order to watch over her sister. She does it for her father too. She worries about her father. I could see it in her eyes. And Lady Althea is afraid to trust. But she trusts Peaches, Betsy, and I believe she will come to trust me. It would have been selfish of me to say no.”

  Betsy moved across to sit beside Tilde, dropping one arm around her shoulders. “You always were the soft–hearted one of all of us.” She squeezed her tight and then rubbed Tilde’s arm vigorously. “It’s no use worrying over any of this now. What’s done is done. And you know I have every faith in you.”

  Tilde glanced up in time to see a teasing glint in her sister’s gaze as she added, “Besides, if anyone can resist future relapses, it is my big sister. Furthermore, if you lose your job, you can always come work for me.” Which had Tilde groaning and her minx of a sister rolling on the bed laughing.

  Because both of them knew that despite getting the highest marks in all of her graduating class at Miss Primm’s Ladies’ Seminary, Tilde’s sewing skills were highly questionable.

  Jasper did something he’d not done in over four years.

  Just as any titled gentlemen would choose to do when feeling the pressures of his duties, he visited one of his clubs. Surprisingly, he was met with a number of familiar faces. It seemed that most of his cohorts from school hadn’t really changed all that much. Many had married, set up their nurseries, and then gone on to live their lives the same as they had before.

  “Willy!” Archibald Crampton, Viscount Bridgeport, was one of the few who’d avoided the parson’s trap. Not for lack of opportunity but because he simply seemed to be having too much of a good time as a bachelor.

  Genuine pleasure struck Jasper at the sight of his old schoolmate. Bridgeport and he had been polar opposites as youths and even more so as young men. And yet they’d been the best of friends.

  Bridge strode across the room and enclosed Jasper in a welcoming embrace, pounding him on the back in greeting. “Good to see you, old man. Come sit down and tell me if you’re still following all the rules? How’s that working out for you, Willy?” The words were in jest, and yet they stung.

  Because to be quite truthful, it hadn’t worked out all that well after all.

  Except for Althea and Eloise. They would always be the very best part of his life.

  Bridge poured two glasses of scotch and slid one across the table. Over the first three slugs, they discussed parliamentary issues, the next three drams were reserved for estate burdens, and after that they both stopped counting.

  And of course, eventually, they discussed women.

  Bridgeport had nearly married the year before but been jilted at the alter by his bride for a lowly solicitor. Jasper knew that even if Bridge had loved the gel, he’d never show it publicly. Even so… “You holding up? After that business with Lady Caroline?”

  His friend shrugged and then grimaced. “My pride suffers more than my heart. Already moving on.” He lifted the glass to his lips. “Although I’m not inclined to get myself caught again anytime soon.”

  “What about you, Wills?” Of course, all of the ton knew of Estelle’s untimely passing.

  Jasper shrugged. “She hadn’t been well for some time.” The night had grown quite late by now, inviting an unusual intimacy. Staring into his glass, he swirled the amber liquid and gazed at the reflecting candlelight. “Have you ever been in love, Bridge?”

  “Hell, isn’t there that one girl in all of our lives? The one we lost? Haunting us in our moments of weakness? Damn shame about Lady Willoughby though… My deepest sympathies. Quite the looker, she was.”

  Jasper had to concede his deceased wife’s beauty. Could she be the treasure he’d lost? She ought to have been. The fact that he’d found himself resenting her over the course of her illness haunted him. If he were being honest with himself, he’d resented her before she even became ill. She’d been so damn set on fulfilling her duty.

  He’d watched Estelle push their daughters away, dismiss them when they had gone to her for comfort. At times it seemed she’d bemoaned their very existence.

  Treasure he’d lost…

  “Who got away from you, Bridge?” Jasper asked. He would not dwell on his own sorry circumstances.

  Bridge, a giant of a man with thick black hair and unlikely emerald eyes, leaned back in his chair and chewed on his cheroot. “My cousin’s music teacher. Damned beautiful girl. Talented, smart,” Wink. “As randy for me as I was for her.”

  Jasper didn’t need to hear any more. The girl hadn’t been quality, too far below a viscount to allow for anything more than a fling. He knew how these stories ended. “You loved her?”

  A faraway look entered his friends gaze. “And lost her. Wasn’t meant to be.” And then tipping back the remainder of his glass, he swallowed and then added. “Her hourglass shape will haunt me forever though.”

  “Was the countess the love of your life? Or did some other lass get away from you?”

  Jasper couldn’t dishonor Estelle, as much as he wished to unburden himself. But a voice speaking with an indiscernible accent sliced through the fog of his inebriation… The secret to finding your future lies in the fortune you lost in your past…

  “There was one lady, before Estelle.” He spoke into the flickering light. “Felt like I’d found that missing piece of myself. For some reason I didn’t realize it at the time. Why are we such fools, Bridge? Why don’t we recognize something special when knocked over the head with it?”

  He’d meant to visit Miss Fortune the day after that night at the gardens. He’d intended to take her driving in a new curricle he’d purchased a few weeks before. But then he’d failed to follow through... He’d been distracted by his mother’s requests. Had he been carrying out his duty or had he been manipulated by tradition?

  It didn’t matter now.

  The fortune from his past never existed. He’d thought himself in love for one evening. One kiss. Both of them were different people now. His daughters came first, and Miss Fortune seemed to be what they needed most. He glanced at his fob watch. He was to meet with her early the following morning.

  Perhaps Miss Fortune wasn’t as altruistic as he’d believe. Perhaps, knowing she held him over the barrel somewhat with Althea’s affection for her dog, she intended to demand an exorbitant salary.

  Only he knew this would not be the case. How did he know? He just did. It was as though he’d known the damn woman his entire life.

  And yet she remained a mystery.

  Setting his glass on the table, Jasper rose reluctantly. She’d be arriving to discuss terms in less than five hours. “It’s been a pleasure, Bridge.” And it truly had been. He’d kept himself isolated too long.

  Not that he didn’t come in contact with others while managing Warwick Place, but always those interactions centered around work. And as either landlord or employer to most of them, he treated them with due respect, but could not afford to treat them as friends.

  It had been pleasant to spend an evening with a gentleman with whom he was not responsible for in any way, nor the welfare of his family.

  Bridge rose to engulf him in another of his giant hugs. “Don’t be a stranger, Wills.”

  Jasper could make no promises.

  He’d intended upon spending the entire season in town but had forgotten how difficult his mother could be. And if Miss Fortune were to change her mind about taking the position, he’d have to star
t all over again.

  He refused to hire anyone recommended by his mother.

  Chapter 10

  Welcome, Miss Fortune

  The same disapproving butler opened the door for Tilde the following morning at exactly three minutes before eight. And again, he scowled down at Peaches.

  “Lord Willoughby is expecting me,” Tilde informed him. “Us,” she corrected. Best the servants of the house become used to Peaches.

  “Right this way.”

  The austere gentleman led her in a different direction this time, to Willoughby’s study she presumed.

  But when he opened the door, she was taken aback by the sight before her eyes. Jasper lay sleeping on the settee with Lady Althea on top of him, head tucked beneath his chin. Lady Eloise was sitting at the large desk writing in a small journal.

  When Tilde went to step inside, Lady Eloise raised one finger to her lips and whispered. “Thea had nightmares again, so Papa brought us down to his ossiff.”

  Indeed.

  Although he had loosened his cravat, the poor man had fallen asleep wearing his boots. He had tucked one arm under his head as a makeshift pillow but draped his other protectively around his daughter. If Tilde was correct, the garments he wore were the same he’d been wearing yesterday.

  As she stepped closer, she could easily make out his full day’s growth of beard and dark circles etched beneath his eyes.

  Lady Althea, in nightclothes, lay wrapped in a miniature sized quilt. Soft, even snoring sounds, emitted from both father and daughter.

  Tiptoeing carefully back across the room, Tilde pulled up the chair near Eloise, placed Peaches on the floor, and then joined the miniature adult at the desk.

  “Are you writing letters?” Tilde opened up her pelisse and withdrew a small notebook and pencil.

  Which immediately drew Lady Eloise’s attention. “What’s that?”