Fortunes of Fate: Prequel Story Read online

  She hadn’t meant to hurt Mama. A’laya nibbled at her bottom lip. Mama had given her everything she could ever long for: love, kindness, compassion, and stability. All of that looked to be crumbling. A light extinguished.

  “Mama…” A’laya’s heart ached, and she longed to take it all back. To leave the room, close the door silently behind her, and retrace her steps to the foyer or perhaps her father’s study. She would burn the invitation. Forget it even existed if only to have her mama shine once again.

  Her mama sighed and pushed her shoulders back, bringing her grey-blue eyes to meet A’laya’s. Not a smile, but an attempt at one lifted the corners of Mama’s mouth as she smoothed her dress with determined hands.

  “You may attend Lord Everly’s soiree in your dove grey gown,” her mama said. “However, I shall not wear the emerald dress. I think the peach silk with a matching shawl.”

  A’laya, her mama close by her side, floated around the Everly ballroom. It was the only word to capture the way she felt on this momentous occasion. On slippered feet that barely touched the polished floor, giddiness swept through her as the musicians played on the dais and her dance card hung around her wrist.

  A card devoid of any names as yet.

  Though the evening was early. They’d only arrived an hour before, and guests continued to stream into the Everly home. Soon enough, she’d be asked to place a gentleman’s name on her card, and her solitude on the fringes of the room would be over. A’laya held onto hope that once one man asked for a dance, they would all desire a turn about the floor with her; after all, she’d worked diligently with her dance instructor, learning the proper movements and footwork that would be expected of her at her first London ball.

  Nottinghamshire was not London; however, the night would certainly give A’laya practice.

  Her mama nodded to an elderly matron as they passed, but the lady did not so much as slow her progress or acknowledge A’laya’s mother’s greeting. There was little doubt that if the woman had nodded in return, her grand headpiece would have slipped from its perch atop her head and crashed to the floor.

  Neither A’laya nor her mama would want to cause the matron any sort of embarrassment. That was certainly the reason Mama appeared unperturbed as the woman moved away from them without even eye contact.

  A’laya remembered the years before her father’s passing, when the local nobility and the villagers, while still reserved, at least treated Mama with a certain kindness. It had only been after losing her husband that Mama had changed. Her once-open demeanor and quick smiles were now guarded and skeptical.

  A’laya longed to show her mother that things had not changed as much as she feared; that Lord Everly and his guests would treat them as any other noble invitee.

  “Everything is perfect,” A’laya sighed. “It is just as I rememb—” She cut short her words, not daring to admit the escapades of her twelfth year, the last time she’d snuck from her home to flee to Everly Manor to watch the festivities of their Summer Solstice soiree. “It is precisely as I imagined it would be.”

  This was how A’laya wanted to live. She’d had dreams of it since she was a young girl. Fine gowns, beautiful ladies, and handsome gentlemen…all moving as if they belonged. A’laya was not foolish enough to believe she was wholly accepted by anyone; however, if she could attract the notice of one kind, understanding person, things would certainly change.

  Her mama lifted her chin and smiled—a decisively forced expression, but a grin nonetheless—as a couple approached. They were vaguely familiar, but A’laya could not place where she’d seen them before. Perhaps in the village on one of her many trips to gather goods from the market.

  “Lady Oderton.” The man gave a curt bow at the same time the lady inclined her head. Both gazed at A’laya and her mother with skepticism in their eyes. The woman was even so bold as to take in the fabric and cut of Mama’s evening gown. Did the woman notice that it was a style from more than a decade before?

  “Lord Stranton.” Her mama sank into a curtsy. “Lady Stranton.”

  “Deborah,” the woman corrected. “How have you been, Chloe? I must offer my sincerest apologies for not visiting. We have been busy traveling here and there.” She turned her gaze on A’laya. “And this must be little A’laya. My, what a vision you’ve grown into.”

  Suddenly, A’laya recognized the couple—her father’s dearest friends.

  Or at least they had been close at some point, though A’laya could not remember encountering the pair since her father’s funeral.

  “Yes, Deborah.” Her mama’s cheeks pinkened, difficult for most to notice under her dark coloring. “And John. It is lovely to see you both. There is no need for apologies. A’laya and I have been quite occupied in recent years.”

  Lord Stranton grasped the excuse her mama had given, his head bobbing up and down. “Yes, yes,” he replied. “We are only attending because my sister’s oldest son begged us to accompany him.” Stranton’s eyes scanned the crowd as if searching for an escape. “Oh, there he is now.”

  The lord waved wildly to a young man, who hurried toward them. “Pierce—err—” Lady Stranton paused as the gentleman in question joined them, his stare lingering on A’laya. “Lady Oderton and Miss A’laya Banesworth, may I introduce my nephew, the Earl of Holderness.”

  “My lord.” A’laya’s breathless greeting escaped her on a sigh. “It is lovely to make your acquaintance.”

  It is more than lovely to make his acquaintance, A’laya thought. It was fate…it was her fortune…it was all her dreams come true. When she imagined her time at the Everly soiree, it was with a lord much like the earl by her side.

  A’Laya had grown up with love. She’d seen it between her parents and had always known she wanted a husband of her own. Someone to comfort her and care for her above all others. Someone who would look upon her with admiration and tenderness. Someone who would give her a family—children, home, and hearth.

  “Pierce, my good lad, is my sister’s—do you remember Henrietta wedded that chap, the Duke of Shrewbury? It matters naught, as it were. Pierce here is staying at our country estate, needing a few months respite from town life, I dare say.” Lord Stranton grinned, winking at his nephew. “And, so, we offered our home for his use until he returns to London.”

  “I do remember the Duchess of Shrewbury,” A’laya’s mama replied. And, ever the lady, she greeted Lord Holderness as he took her hand in his and bowed deeply over her mother’s glove before turning to A’laya.

  “Miss A’laya Banesworth, is it?” the earl asked, the glint in his eye holding her attention as his hand pushed a wayward golden lock from his forehead. “Why have I never made your acquaintance before now?”

  The overwhelming urge to giggle came over A’laya at the earl’s brazen attention. Swallowing, A’laya fidgeted with her dance card, hoping she did not appear the simpering debutante enthralled by the handsome lord.

  Yet, she was.

  She was utterly captivated by his rich brown eyes and hair the color of spun gold. He was everything an English lord was supposed to be. Tall, with broad shoulders and a smile that sent her heart fluttering.

  He was, oh, so handsome and charming. A’Laya had never felt this way before. But deep inside, she knew an even greater excitement. The love and admiration of such a man would set her and her mama’s world right once again. People would see them again.

  And her mama would once more be the open, smiling lady she’d been when A’laya’s father was still alive.

  “Lord Holderness.” A’laya gathered all her resolve and dipped into a low curtsy, her head falling forward to hide her widened stare and rosy cheeks. “I cannot begin to explain why we have not yet met.”

  Although she knew the reason. It was because she and her mother rarely left their home and, since her father’s untimely death, they hadn’t received invites to any affairs. On the small allowance her distant cousin provided them, she and her mama lived a simple life without fri
lls. A’laya would rather sink into a mudhole than admit that she and her mama were pariahs in their own town. If the earl were not aware of their reputation, A’laya would not be the one to expose it.

  “I fear I must remedy this unfortunate circumstance,” he said, shaking his head as if the situation were actually unfortunate and not simply a product of the social hierarchy of English society. “Mayhap you have at least one dance unspoken for?”

  A’laya didn’t dare glance at her empty dance card—or worse yet, allow the earl to see that not a single gentleman had requested the honor of a dance with her.

  “I happen to have the next set free, my lord,” A’laya replied. “Though my evening is mostly spoken for after that.”

  She focused on the handsome earl as everything and everyone around her faded away.

  Her mother. Lord and Lady Stranton. The crowd milling about the room.

  Even the music from the dais was not as boisterous as it had seemed moments before.

  “Lady Oderton.” The earl turned his wide smile on A’laya’s mama. “I hope I have not been too bold in requesting a dance with your daughter. I shall return her immediately after our set.”

  A’laya glanced at her mama out of the corner of her eye, fearing if she took her attention away from Lord Holderness—Pierce—he would surely disappear. Her mama’s shoulders were tense, and her eyes narrowed, making the fine lines on her face seem all the more vivid. Would Mama deny the earl’s request for a dance?

  A’laya would certainly crumble in place if she were not allowed a set with Lord Holderness. To be swept away in his arms was everything A’laya had ever dreamed of—the very thing fairy tales were made of.

  He’d barely spoken, but A’laya had the good sense to realize this dashing lord before her was meant to be hers.

  She could not risk her mama turning him away.

  A’laya turned to her mother, grasping her gloved hand in her own and squeezing. “Mama, I will dance and return to you directly.” She smiled, and the stiffness in her mama’s shoulders drained away; however, her penetrating stare held A’laya’s widened, hopeful eyes for a moment longer.

  “One dance, no more,” Mama conceded. A’laya smiled inside. Papa’s doppelganger grin never failed her.

  “Of course.” A’laya’s heart raced. With the entirety of her life before her, she could still believe that her dreams could come true.

  “Wonderful,” Lord Holderness boomed. He held out his arm, and A’laya set her hand at his elbow.

  She risked a quick glance over her shoulder as the dashing earl led her away from her mama toward the dance floor. Be happy for me, Mama. Be happy for us! A’laya’s heart whispered the silent prayer. They’d shared mostly sadness for far too long. The earl was all they’d been waiting for. He’d bring love into A’laya’s life once again. And he’d bring belonging. Acceptance.

  Mama’s hands were clutched at her chest, and her shoulders sagged. She seemed worried and uncomfortable. Trepidation tickled down A’laya’s spine. She brushed it aside. Surely, Mama was only nervous for A’laya’s first dance in a proper ballroom at a true soiree.

  A’laya flashed a reassuring smile before turning from her mama to meet the earl’s stare. His gaze traveled from her ebony locks piled atop her head, to her bodice and farther down to her waist. A shiver of anticipation coursed up A’laya’s back in response to his piercing scrutiny. He obviously approved of her appearance. He wouldn’t look at her so intimately if he didn’t feel the same as she did with him.

  Pierce. How very appropriate. He’d already pierced her heart.

  “Miss A’laya.” A new melody sounded in the ballroom as Pierce brought her close, beginning to move with the other dancers. “Has anyone told you that your beauty is that of a thousand suns? Too much for my mere mortal eyes to behold, surely.”

  A’laya had known before the music ended on their first dance that Pierce was the lord she would wed and happily live the rest of her life loving. When his gaze met hers, she felt as though they shared a special secret—just the two of them. The tenderness in his touch conveyed that he felt it, too.

  He was everything A’laya had ever dreamed of in a man, and she hadn’t even needed to journey to London and spend her family’s meager savings on a proper Season to find him.

  Pierce had declared his feelings almost immediately after the Everly’s Summer Solstice soiree and remained in Nottinghamshire. He’d called on her nearly every day for the last three months and took her on picnics by his family’s pond and for drives to the village—when her mama allowed it.

  Pierce had even stolen a kiss during their first outing while A’laya’s maid had been otherwise occupied.

  Now, it was her wedding day.

  A’laya couldn’t remember ever experiencing such happiness. So much joy.

  She felt a connection she was certain mirrored that of her parents.

  A love that would last a lifetime—and perhaps longer if she and Pierce were blessed with children.

  Blessed with children? A’laya’s entire existence had been transformed since her first dance with the earl at Lord Everly’s soiree. Only a few months prior, she’d dreamt of traveling to London, attending her first ball, and dancing with dashing lords and charming gentlemen.

  Now, she stood in the Oderton vicarage, a wedded lady.

  A countess.

  Her heart soared, overflowed with love and excitement for her future—their future.

  A’laya glanced up at Pierce where he stared out the window at the rolling hills of her home, his expression severe. When he noticed her attention, his easy smile returned as he bent low and pressed his lips to hers.

  Their courtship had been swift but meaningful. Pierce had been attentive, lavishing her with every manner of gift imaginable. He’d even gone so far as to have flowers—hothouse blue blossoms—brought from his family’s home estate and presented to her one afternoon as they dined at Lord and Lady Stranton’s country manor.

  Tomorrow, they would leave for Shrewbury Gardens, and she would be presented to Pierce’s mother and father, the Duke and Duchess of Shrewbury. Her mama had thought it peculiar the pair hadn’t made the journey to Nottinghamshire for the nuptials. In fact, Lord and Lady Stranton hadn’t been in residence at their estate to attend the ceremony either. In the end, it had been A’laya, her mama, Pierce, and the vicar present to witness the ceremony.

  Even so, it had been perfect. Precisely as A’laya had envisioned her wedding day.

  Truly, she’d only desired herself and Pierce to be present before the Oderton vicar.

  She, Miss A’laya Banesworth, was now A’laya De Vere, the Countess of Holderness.

  Nothing mattered but Pierce and their life to come; whether they lived in London, at his estate, or closer to A’laya’s mama. They hadn’t spoken of such trivial matters. They hadn’t discussed much beyond their love and adoration for one another.

  And, yet, that mattered not to A’laya. Just as her papa had always done what was best for them, Pierce would do the same. He was her husband, the soon-to-be father of her children.

  Perhaps, one day, A’laya would convince her mama to come and live with her and Pierce, wherever they decided to make their home. For now, they would travel to his family estate. A’laya was brimming with excitement and nerves at making the acquaintance of the Duke and Duchess of Shrewbury.

  Her family was growing from two to many, and A’laya actually felt her heart swell in anticipation of including her new family in her circle of love.

  She reached up to her chest and touched the ridges of the talisman hidden beneath her gown. Pierce was a part of her path now. Soon, children would come. Perhaps she’d give the necklace to her own daughter one day.

  An odd shiver washed over her at the thought, chased by a flicker of fear.

  Cold feet, that’s what A’laya had heard it called. She dismissed the uncomfortable sensation and moved her hand to Pierce’s freshly shaven cheek. Her eyes moistened with unshed tea
rs.

  “I love you, Pierce,” A’laya sighed.

  “I think it is past time we return to my uncle’s home.” He wriggled out of her arms and stepped away. A’laya’s hand fell to her side at the same moment her heartbeat stuttered and faltered. As it returned to normal, he continued, “We should retire early and be on our way at first light.”

  His harsh tone was punctuated by the pounding of his footfalls on the wooden planked floor as he exited the small church. He passed Mama without so much as a glance in her mother’s direction.

  Today was no different than any other despite it being their wedding day, and A’laya did not need him to confirm his love for her. No, she knew it in her heart, as surely as the sun rose. Why else would Pierce wed her but for their mutual adoration?

  A heart saw what the mind knew not how to share, just as A’laya’s heart was drawn to Pierce and the many things he didn’t speak aloud.

  A’laya smiled and forced a laugh from her throat when her mama hurried over to her, concern in her gaze.

  “My dear girl,” her mama whispered. “I planned to prepare you a meal to celebrate. Must you leave so soon?”

  A’laya had asked Pierce the same question only two days before when he made it known that they would depart for his family home immediately following the ceremony. He’d said their life could not truly begin until his wife met his family—and A’laya agreed. However, she sharply felt the sting of his decision now. Leaving her home and her mama would cause A’laya a great deal of sorrow.

  She stiffened her spine and lifted her chin. Mama had left her mother and father when she wed A’laya’s father. It was the way of things.

  “Yes, we must.”

  “His mood is not that of a happy bridegroom,” her mama continued. “I do hope all is as it should be.”

  Of course, he was happy! But he was likely nervous also. All men felt some trepidation over taking on a wife. Pierce would be no different. Surely…