Fortune Favours Miss Gold (Fortunes of Fate Book 2) Read online

  She would rather carry their belongings on her back than still be in residence when Mr. Grayson arrived.

  The servants had been sympathetic and so kind that Eleanor had very nearly lost control of her emotions. But then she would remember that this man had driven them out of every house they’d ever owned, and her seething anger would fuel her to tamp down her emotions and get on with the job at hand.

  It had taken but a few days to pack up their pitiful belongings.

  Eleanor had sold everything of value in the house. Everything.

  Mother’s jewellery, the silverware, paintings, and even parts of the furniture that could fetch a price.

  Their horses had been sold off as well as their carriages.

  The last of them had just been sold to the local squire, who had kindly allowed them to use it to remove to their new home.

  The driver would take the carriage and its team to the squire after they’d emptied it of themselves and their trunks, and that would be that.

  All that remained in their possession were a set of greys who had seen better days and a rickety gig that probably wouldn’t last much longer in any case.

  On the morning before Mr. Grayson was due to arrive, they climbed into the carriage, squeezed in beside their trunks. Mary, who would be the only servant to accompany them, sat up top with the driver.

  Eleanor didn’t really have the money to retain Mary, but the woman was loyal to a fault.

  “I promised your mother I would take care of you,” she had told a tearful Eleanor when she’d been helping her arrange to sell off almost everything they owned just to stay afloat. “And I will keep that promise, Miss. We’ll get by just fine.”

  They hadn’t much money left, that was the crux of it.

  Eleanor had bought some animals and invested in a good vegetable garden so they could at least sustain themselves.

  Now though, the time had come, as she had known it would, to think about them all finding work.

  How the mighty had fallen. The Gold name had always been synonymous with wealth and the upper classes.

  Now that Pippa was twenty and Trevor almost a man, it was only a matter of time before they would have to scatter and find work just to survive.

  Eleanor could, perhaps, stay in Torrell teaching or – or something.

  Pippa might leave to become a governess. Eleanor had taught her well enough to be able to do that.

  Lord knew what Trevor might be able to do. Study the law, perhaps, if they could get him a position somewhere.

  She might write to Mr. Smith and see if the man needed an apprentice or knew of anyone who did.

  These thoughts and worries were a constant thrumming through Eleanor’s mind. Had been for years. But never more so than now.

  Well, at least a cottage would be vastly cheaper to run than the manor house.

  And there was room for a vegetable patch. She could plant what she had brought from the manor house and start again.

  Trevor had already penned off an area for the animals, and there was a small outhouse that could be used as a stable for the greys.

  All in all, things could be much worse.

  A quick glance at her siblings was enough to show they clearly did not share the sentiment.

  Trevor looked angry, as usual. And Pippa’s blue eyes were filling with tears. As usual.

  Eleanor stifled a sigh of frustration.

  “Come along then,” she said as the carriage door opened and the driver helped her down from the conveyance.

  Mary and the driver were already carrying trunks and valises up the small garden path to the cottage’s bright red door.

  Tide Cottage. Their new home. And one that at least belonged to them forever.

  It was beautiful. There was no denying that.

  The cottage stood on its own just off the dusty road. The garden at the front was small but would be lovely when maintained correctly. At the moment, it was quite overgrown.

  The building itself looked like something from a child’s storybook. Squat and made from stone of grey, it was covered in ivy that was blooming spectacularly in the warm summer sun.

  Round the back, Eleanor knew since she’d been here all week cleaning and readying the place, was a much larger garden that now held the animals and the beginnings of her vegetable garden.

  More than that, there was a spectacular view of the sweeping coastline. A rather stubborn gate led to a shell and rock path right to the sea.

  They could bathe in the summer months and take long, brisk walks in the winter.

  Truly, they were fortunate indeed to live in such close proximity to Somerset’s famous beaches.

  And she reminded her siblings of this fact every chance she got.

  She turned and coaxed Pippa out of the carriage whilst instructing Trevor to go and help with the heavy lifting.

  “It’s all right, Pippa.” She patted her younger sister reassuringly on the arm. “Now, there are beds to make and rooms to air. And we must start thinking about dinner.” She kept her tone bright whilst she chivvied her sister up the path. “Cook packed enough hampers to last us the entire summer,” she prattled on as they reached the tiny, flag-stoned entry way. “We certainly shan’t starve.”

  Not yet, she added to herself.

  She wouldn’t allow such thoughts to enter her head this day. This was to be their home, and Eleanor would make it a happy one if it killed her.

  Tristan Grayson ran a discerning eye over the sizeable manor house in front of him as he drew his mount to a halt.

  He didn’t know what he had expected to feel as he eyed the bright, white façade that glinted in the summer sun.

  Elation? Even satisfaction of some sort?

  But he felt – nothing. The same nothing he’d felt when he’d obtained Gold’s hunting lodge in Scotland seven years ago.

  The only time he’d ever felt even a sliver of happiness in his dealings with that man had been ten years ago. The first time he’d gambled against him. The first time he’d won.

  Gold had been reckless with his spending, just as Tristan’s father had been. And the more he’d lost, the more irate he’d become. The more careless.

  Tristan had stopped playing that night all those years ago, the second he’d won Gold’s townhouse.

  That was the difference between Tristan and men like his father and Mr. Gold. He knew when to stop.

  He hadn’t gambled for fun back then but to try to recoup some of his father’s losses. Losses he’d suffered predominantly at the hands of Augustus Gold. Losses that had led him to have a massive heart attack and almost shuffle off the mortal coil, leaving a mess for his then twenty-year-old son to clean up.

  That had been before Gold’s fortunes began to turn, as they inevitably did with wastrels like him.

  The more he lost, the more he bet. Just like the viscount.

  Tristan dismounted and walked slowly up the steps toward the small staff that waited to greet him.

  He eyed their expressions.

  The butler was emotionless and ramrod straight, as butlers were wont to be.

  But the stout lady by his side bedecked in a pristine white apron, along with the handful of maids and footmen that made up the rest of the party, couldn’t quite keep the hostility from their gazes, even as they bowed and curtsied deferentially.

  Well, what did he expect? Wasn’t he the big, bad man who had run Gold’s children from their home?

  A pang of guilt tried to make itself known, but Tristan pushed it ruthlessly aside.

  From the information he had on the family, he knew the daughters were twenty and twenty-five by now. He had given them plenty of time to marry and move on. The youngest Gold would be, what? Sixteen by now. So, still under the care of one of his sisters but taken care of nonetheless.

  He had only wanted them to vacate when he returned from India, where he had spent the past five years working and investing to fill the family coffers again.

  When he returned, he had foun
d out, too late as it were, that the Gold children were unmarried and still occupying the manor house.

  Unmarried at twenty, and especially twenty-five, most likely meant he was dealing with the plain, odd, bookish sort of spinster that was happy to remain alone. Probably bluestockings to boot.

  By the time he’d arrived at the solicitor’s in Bath who had been taking care of the matter, it had been too late to undo the eviction, since the family had already removed themselves to a property that had belonged to their late mother.

  Tristan found himself glad that they had something their father hadn’t been able to take from them. Nobody knew more than he the pain of watching your security be chipped away by a man too selfish to worry about anyone or anything outside of himself.

  So, he would do his duty. Pay a call. Extend his sympathies. Express his regret that he’d unknowingly evicted them from their home. Then he would sell this property as he had Gold’s others.

  Perhaps then, perhaps when he got rid of the man’s main residence, he would find that elusive satisfaction he craved. Satisfaction for taking everything from the man who had practically taken his father’s life.

  After all, the viscount was more dead than alive.

  The heart attack had quickly brought on a stroke. And now he couldn’t walk. Couldn’t speak. He was a shell of a man. He might as well have been dead.

  And the viscountess suffered daily because of it.

  His father’s sickness meant that the running of the viscountcy fell to Tristan.

  Even at twenty, Tristan had been somewhat of a financial whizz, and he’d used that savvy to play cards just as his father had done. He’d won his first hand of cards and recouped some of the viscount’s losses on the day of his twentieth birthday, and he’d been winning ever since.

  The only reason Lord Devon wasn’t wasting away in debtors’ prison was because his son had a head for cards and business. And used it for good, rather than to play fast and loose with the family’s future.

  Tristan had returned from India victorious. The coffers were plentiful. The investments he’d made sound and yielding a fortune.

  And this pile of bricks right here was the last thing that had belonged to Augustus Gold, the last thing that Tristan had managed to snatch from the man who had destroyed his father.

  The viscount and viscountess now lived off monies that were controlled by Tristan and allowed them to maintain their lifestyle and precious reputation amongst the ton.

  He would stay long enough in Torrell to see to the sale of the property, extend the briefest of apologies to Gold’s children for the inconvenience, and then he’d get the hell out of here.

  Chapter Three

  “Ellie! Ellie!”

  Eleanor looked up from where she’d been tending to her vegetable garden and shielded her eyes from the bright summer sun.

  Pippa came rushing toward her, waving something in her hand, and looking more animated than Eleanor had seen her in an age.

  “Good heavens, what is it?” she asked as she jumped to her feet and brushed the dirt from her skirts.

  The wide straw bonnet she wore protected her head from the sun, but it did nothing about the heat, and Eleanor turned her face to the ever-present sea breeze.

  Dire circumstances aside, Tide Cottage really was a wonderful place to live.

  She couldn’t, however, push their circumstances aside forever.

  Last night when Mary, Trevor, and Pippa had gone to bed, Eleanor had poured over her accounts once more.

  The money she had garnered from the sale of their things had dwindled more rapidly than she was comfortable with.

  It would barely see them through the winter. Their move to the cottage had accumulated costs of itself, what with making the outhouse suitable to stable the horses and make it suitable for the cow and chickens in the winter months.

  It was sure to be cooler, too, this close to the sea.

  Eleanor had been wracking her brain trying to think of a way to make money, but she was coming up short.

  How could she break it to Pippa and Trevor, who were just becoming used to living in their new, cramped quarters?

  Pippa was upon her now, so Eleanor pasted a smile on her face.

  “There are fortune tellers in town,” Pippa cried, waving a flyer under Eleanor’s nose. “Can you believe it? How wonderful! We must pay them a visit.”

  Eleanor rolled her eyes at her fanciful sister’s excitement.

  “That’s it?” she asked. “Fortune tellers?”

  “Can you believe it?” Pippa demanded again.

  “No, I can’t.” Eleanor took the paper from Pippa’s hand and ran a sceptical eye over the contents. “I can’t believe that anyone is foolish enough to think this claptrap is real,” she finished.

  “What?” Pippa frowned. “Didn’t you read it?”

  Eleanor looked down once again.

  Come, unlock the secrets of your future and the mysteries of your past.

  Learn about love, wealth, success, and more.

  Have your palm read by the renowned Madame Zeta and watch all your dreams come true.

  Of all the non-sensical drivel.

  Eleanor sighed and shoved the flyer back into her sister’s willing hands.

  “Pippa, it’s silly. People cannot read palms, and they most certainly cannot tell the future. Don’t waste your coin on such tosh.”

  “Eleanor, please. When was the last time we did something frivolous? Something fun? Besides, you don’t know that it’s not real.”

  Eleanor glared at her younger sister as she looked imploring at her. They were of a similar height, though Pippa was slightly plumper.

  Pippa also had big, blue eyes similar to Trevor’s.

  Eleanor’s eyes had been something of an anomaly. A pale, piercing green unlike anyone else in her family.

  If she hadn’t looked so much like Pippa and Trevor in other ways, she would have worried about where she’d come from!

  Her father had always said her eyes reminded him of a cat. And Eleanor didn’t think he’d meant it as a compliment.

  But that was neither here nor there. Pippa could use her baby blues to give an imploring stare like nobody else.

  It would not, however, work on her older sister who knew that every guinea was precious and shouldn’t be squandered on fake fortune-tellers and tricksters.

  “Pippa, we cannot –”

  She was interrupted by the sound of pounding hooves approaching.

  Both ladies looked up at the sound to see a man approaching on a magnificent looking horse.

  Eleanor felt her breath catch in her throat as she eyed the approaching stranger.

  She couldn’t see much of him, squinting as she was in the bright sunlight, but she could tell he was tall. And broad shouldered.

  The oddest sensation swept through her as he drew closer to the cottage and slowed to a walk. She felt as though a slow, burning heat were starting to flow through her veins.

  “Who is that?” Pippa whispered.

  “I have no idea,” Eleanor managed past a sudden, inexplicable lump in her throat. “I’ll go round the front and see.”

  “Ellie!” Pippa’s hissed whisper brought her to a stop. “You can’t go like that.”

  “Why?” Eleanor demanded, feeling suddenly affronted.

  “Look at you!” Pippa hissed again.

  Eleanor looked down and saw to her dismay that she was still wearing her gardening apron, and it was covered in dirt from the ground.

  She began to quickly strip it from her, whilst Pippa tugged at her bonnet.

  “Take this hideous thing off your head,” Pippa demanded.

  “Don’t, Pippa. I –”

  It was too late. Pippa had untied the ribbon and plucked her hat from her head before Eleanor could stop her.

  She hadn’t had a chance to put her hair up that morning. Well, she hadn’t really seen the point since they didn’t exactly get callers at their tiny cottage.

  H
er long, golden locks tumbled down her back just as a voice sounded behind them.

  “I beg your pardon, I’m looking for Miss Gold.”

  Pippa’s eyes widened then darted to Eleanor’s.

  For her own part, Eleanor fixed her sister with a beady glare that promised retribution, before she pulled back her shoulders and turned to face their unexpected visitor.

  And gasped aloud.

  She couldn’t help it.

  Standing before her was the single most handsome man she had ever seen.

  Her eyes raked greedily over him of their own volition.

  He towered above her, making her feel positively diminutive. The shoulders were just as broad as she’d garnered when he’d been some distance away. She could see that his arms were strong and his stomach flat, encased as they were in a deep green superfine.

  And never had she seen fawn breeches and shiny black hessians look so mouth-watering.

  Her eyes travelled back to his face, and she saw with no small amount of mortification that he was staring at her, staring at him.

  Her cheeks scalded, even as her eyes continued to appreciate the strong jawline, the chestnut locks that fell across his brow, the piercing blue eyes, the supremely kissable lips…

  “Eleanor.” Her sister spoke and for one wild second, Eleanor was afraid she’d listed the man’s attributes aloud.

  Her cheeks grew hotter still as she realised that not only had she been practically drooling over this tall stranger, but she was standing there with her hair falling around her shoulders like some sort of lightskirt.

  “Yes, what? Yes,” she stammered, her mortification growing by the second.

  Taking a steadying breath, she schooled her features to polite indifference as though they were meeting in a ballroom and not in her cabbage patch.

  “I am Miss Gold,” she said, grateful that her voice was steady.

  “So am I,” Pippa piped up, and Eleanor turned to scowl at her before facing the stranger once more.

  “I am Miss Eleanor Gold,” she clarified. “This is my younger sister, Miss Phillipa Gold. How may we help you?”

  The stranger continued to stare for a moment longer before he shook his head slightly as though awakening from some sort of trance.