An Unlikely Debutante. Laura Martin

to be the one with mystic powers.’

      ‘I tell fortunes, I don’t divine names,’ Lina said shortly, smiling to soften the ice in her voice.

      ‘Lord Whitemore. Alexander Whitemore.’

      A titled gentleman. He probably wouldn’t even miss the money in that purse, it would be small change to him.

      ‘An influential man, Lord Whitemore,’ Lina said, injecting the silky, dreamy quality into her voice the customers seemed to like so much. ‘A man of responsibilities. You have an estate to run and a sister to care for.’

      ‘She’s good,’ Lord Whitemore’s sister whispered in his ear.

      ‘Nonsense. Anyone with half a brain knows a titled man will have an estate to run and you shouted out to the whole fair that I was your brother.’

      ‘Shall we see what else my half a brain can determine?’ Lina asked.

      Lord Whitemore grunted, turning back to her, but allowing his eyes to roam around the rest of the fair.

      ‘I already know you’re short-tempered and grumpy,’ Lina said, eliciting a laugh from Lord Whitemore’s sister. ‘But I think that is a front, a facade you put up to keep people at a distance. There’s been heartache in your past, a woman.’ Lina paused, but knew she couldn’t help herself. ‘Someone in love with your warm and friendly demeanour?’

      ‘Indeed,’ Lord Whitemore murmured, looking at Lina properly for the first time.

      ‘She left you. A wife?’ Lina watched carefully for his reaction. The twitch just above his left eye gave her a clue. ‘No, a fiancée.’

      ‘I thought you were meant to be telling my fortune.’

      ‘Your future is affected by your past.’

      ‘Just get on with it,’ Lord Whitemore grumbled.

      ‘You’re bored,’ Lina said.

      ‘How could you tell?’

      ‘Not now—with your life. You’re stuck in a rut and you don’t know how to get out.’

      Taking hold of his hand, Lina made a show of tracing the lines although they meant nothing to her. The skill in telling fortunes lay in reading people, in understanding their facial expressions and reactions.

      ‘There will be change soon, a great adventure, a new love. Someone who will challenge you.’

      ‘See, Alex, there is hope.’

      The withering look Lord Whitemore directed at his sister wasn’t lessened when he turned back to Lina.

      ‘Is that everything?’ he asked, standing up.

      From the corner of her eye Lina saw the outline of the coin purse inside his jacket and knew soon the opportunity to raise the money to settle her debt would be missed. She hesitated, hating the gnawing pain in her gut, knowing that she would never be the same person again if she did pick this man’s pocket.

      ‘Do tell your friends to visit us,’ Lina said, stepping forward and pretending to trip over an exposed tree root. She careened into the solid body of Lord Whitemore and slipped her hand into his jacket. Her fingers closed around the soft leather of the purse and for a second she hesitated before withdrawing her hand and patting Lord Whitemore on the chest with her open fingers. ‘Sorry, how clumsy of me.’

      His eyes met hers and Lina had to look away as she realised he’d known exactly what she had been up to. Only his confusion on finding his purse still full and in the correct place lightened Lina’s embarrassment a little.

      * * *

      ‘Your trouble is you’re bored, Whitemore,’ Mr Richard Pentworthy, Alex’s brother-in-law, said.

      Alex took a long mouthful of local cider whilst allowing his eyes to roam over the people at the fair. Pentworthy was right, he was bored. His life was good, easy even, but there was no excitement, no challenge. After inheriting at the tender age of nineteen he could now run his estate with his eyes closed and hands tied behind his back. His only sister was comfortably married and happily producing bouncing, healthy babies and the women who fluttered and flirted with him during balls and dances all seemed unimaginably dull. Alex couldn’t bear the thought of having to choose one of them as his wife.

      No, the only thing that got his pulse racing these days was a visit to the auction house to bid on a promising new horse, or breaking in a lively young colt, that battle for power and mutual respect between animal and rider.

      ‘There’s more to life than horses and racing.’

      ‘What are you two talking about?’ Georgina asked as she bustled over to the two men. Perpetually nosy, that was how their parents had described Georgina at the age of five, and Alex was sure she’d only got worse with age.

      ‘I was observing that your brother is bored.’

      ‘And lonely,’ Georgina added.

      ‘He needs a wife.’

      ‘Someone who will challenge him.’ Georgina pursed her lips. ‘How about Annabelle Mottrem?’

      ‘Too quiet. And her nose is rather large,’ Pentworthy said. ‘He wants someone at least passably attractive. What about Caroline Woods?’

      Georgina rolled her eyes and swatted her husband on the shoulder. ‘The girl is as vicious as a hungry cat.’

      ‘Pretty, though.’

      Before Georgina could launch into a long-winded reprimand Alex held up a hand to stop them.

      ‘I don’t need a woman. And I most certainly don’t need you two matchmaking for me.’

      ‘You haven’t done very well these last few years on your own,’ Georgina murmured. ‘We just want to see you happy. Ever since...’

      ‘Don’t,’ Alex said sharply. ‘Don’t say her name.’

      Georgina sighed. ‘Ever since she left you haven’t looked at another woman seriously.’

      It wasn’t true. Alex looked. He smiled and charmed and danced with women. He listened to the empty twittering of the debutantes year after year and wondered if they were trained to talk only of the weather, fashion and—if he was especially lucky—the latest opera they had seen. Maybe it was unreasonable to want more, to want excitement and humour and that spark of attraction, but he’d experienced all of that with Victoria and refused to settle for anything less again. True, his liaison with Victoria had ended in a heartbreak even he wasn’t sure he was fully recovered from three years down the line, but at least she’d amused and enthralled him with her quick wit and sharp observations.

      ‘And you do need to produce an heir...’ his sister said, dropping her voice.

      ‘But preferably one with at least average intelligence,’ Alex murmured.

      ‘You do the young debutantes a disservice,’ Georgina reprimanded him. ‘From an early age we women are told that men like us meek and obedient, without strong views on politics or other worldly matters. If you would just get to know one or two young ladies properly, I think you’d find surprising depths.’

      ‘I’m not sure I want a wife who believes to please a man she needs to blend into the crowd.’

      ‘I’m not sure you want a wife, Whitemore,’ Pentworthy said quietly.

      All three fell quiet as they contemplated the truth behind the words. Alex saw his sister open her mouth and knew he had to say anything to stop her getting her next quip in. Sometimes his sister could be too sharp, too observant, and his character flaws had taken enough of a verbal beating today already.

      ‘All I’m saying is I could take any woman here today and turn her into the perfect debutante. All she would need is a few fancy clothes, good manners, some passing knowledge of banal topics of conversation and me as