Unveiled (Undone by Love Book 3) (25 page)

Chapter 22

“What did you win, Jane?” Emily asked with a laugh, and Jane held up the porcelain fairing she’d won tossing rings on the green
–a painted trinket box depicting a lady’s dressing table, complete with miniature fripperies and adorned with a winged cherub.

“Something to remember your time here in Derbyshire by,” Emily added
. Jane smiled sadly in reply, fighting the urge to touch her abdomen. She would no doubt have a sufficient reminder of her time spent in Derbyshire. She idly fingered the fairing before tucking it into her reticule and drawing the bag closed.

“What shall we do next?”  Jane’s mother raised one hand to shield her eyes from the sun
. “Another game of skill, perhaps?”

“I’ll be off to inspect the horses,” Cecil said, nodding toward the gathering crowd by the main road
. I’m hoping to add another stallion to my stock today.” 

“Very well,” said Emily, offering her cheek for his kiss
. “I think the theatrical performance is soon to begin in the square. I’ve heard the lead actor is splendid–puts Kean to shame. Shall we see what all the fuss is about?”

Jane and her mother nodded, and the three women set off toward the tent in the center of the village square
. The warm breeze stroked Jane’s cheek as they made their way through the throng, the air thick with music and merriment.

Children dashed this way and that, ducking under their parents’ arms and squealing with glee at each amusement encountered
. A man in a tall hat and military-styled red coat, its gold buttons glittering in the sun, amused a crowd gathered about his organ; an identically dressed monkey delighted the children, young and old, with its antics. Peals of happy laughter rose up from another group of children clustered around a pair of puppeteers, their marionettes animatedly depicting a children’s tale.

The scent of roasted chestnuts and sugared cakes filled the air, and Jane suddenly felt ravenous
. She stopped before a tent where several women in crisp aprons served up sweets. “If you don’t mind, I’d love a cake first. They smell positively delicious.”

“They do, don’t they?” Emily said, inhaling deeply
. “I’ll have one, too. Lady Rosemoor?”

“Oh, indeed
. How can I resist such a temptation? Wait right here and I’ll fetch them.”  Jane’s mother reached into her reticule and retrieved a coin before hurrying off to the counter.

“Jane, look.”  Emily rose up on her toes and pointed to a colorfully decorated tent across the walk
. “The Romany gypsy tent. Oh, I must get my fortune told!”

“Your fortune?” Jane asked with a frown
. “Surely you don’t believe in such nonsense.” 

“Oh, but I do
. The Romany gypsies are known far and wide for their ability to see the future. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“Not particularly,” Jane muttered, her stomach knotting
. Her own future would surely hold no happiness–why should she wish to glimpse it? A ruined woman with a fatherless child–that was all her future held. A lifetime of wanting, wishing for something she could never have.

Her dour thoughts were interrupted when her mother reappeared at her side bearing three cakes wrapped in waxed paper
. “Here you are, girls.”  Lady Rosemoor bit into one and smiled delightedly. “Mmmm, delicious.” 

“Aunt Eliza, I was trying to convince Jane to come with me to the gypsy tent to have our futures told.”

“Gypsies?” her mother exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Oh, what fun! Come, now, Jane. It’s bound to be more entertaining than the theatrics.”  Her lips pursed, as if remembering her daughter’s plight, and she looked to her with concerned eyes. “You needn’t have your own fortune told, of course.”

“Very well,” Jane acquiesced, having no intention of entering the tent and opening herself up to such sorrow
.

Fifteen minutes later Jane stood restlessly outside the tent, nibbling her cake distractedly as she waited for Emily to emerge
.

“I can’t wait to hear what she sees in my future,” her mother said, trying her best to peer into the slit between the tent’s flaps
. “I wonder if I shall find love again, now that your dear father is gone. Do you suppose I should ask her?”

“I haven’t any idea
. Do they allow you to ask questions, or do they simply...”  Jane’s words trailed off as her roaming eye landed on a woman in a honey-hued muslin gown. Miss Upshaw. Lady Westfield, she corrected.

The woman stood between two tents, furtively looking about as if to make sure she remained unseen
. Yet from where Jane stood, awaiting Emily to emerge from the gypsy tent, she was afforded a clear view of the woman. She watched in utter fascination as a man appeared, his back to Jane, and wrapped his arms about the woman in a passionate embrace. What held Jane’s stunned gaze and widened her eyes with amazement was not the fact that the couple indulged in such scandalous behavior in a public place, but that the gentleman was no more than a head taller than the petite woman–without a doubt
not
Lord Westfield.

Jane swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes away
. The pair separated, and after a brief exchange of words that did not reach Jane’s ears, the anonymous man dashed off and the cuckolding Lady Westfield headed directly their way. Jane gasped, desperate to escape before the horrid woman spotted her. She could not face her. Not now. Not ever.

“Jane
? Dearest?”

Jane looked up to her mother, realizing with a start that she was speaking to her but unable to make her lips form a reply
. Just then, Emily rushed out of the tent, smiling broadly.

“Oh, Jane, it was wonderful
. Madame Cosmina is truly gifted. You must reconsider–”

“I’ll go next,” Jane blurted out, shouldering past her mother and into the dimly lit tent as expeditiously as possible
. She could not risk an encounter with the woman.

Reluctantly, Jane handed over a coin and settled herself into the chair directly across from the gaudily garbed woman who proclaimed herself Madame Cosmina with a thick, Eastern European accent
. After dropping the coin into a box, the fortune-teller reached for Jane’s hands. With an impatient sigh, Jane stripped off her gloves and placed her bare hands in the woman’s old, gnarled ones. Madame Cosmina’s eyes fluttered closed, and Jane couldn’t help but impatiently avert her gaze from the woman’s lined face, worn with age. Jane’s breathing became shallow in anticipation, her palms dampening uncomfortably.

A full minute of silence ensued before Madame Cosmina spoke
. “I see fear, great fear.”

A shudder began at the nape of Jane’s neck and worked its way down her spine
. She shifted uncomfortably in the rickety chair as a lump formed in her throat.

“This thing you fear, this worry... It will never come to pass,” she hissed
.

Listening to the words despite herself, Jane felt her stomach do an uncomfortable flip-flop
.

“No, you fear for naught
. You have been spared.”

“Spared?” Jane croaked, then immediately wished she’d remained silent
.

The old woman nodded
. “You will know of what I speak.”

A hope sparked in Jane’s breast
.
Was it possible
? Her mother’s counsel had assuaged her fear of madness, but was this woman confirming it? Could the gypsy truly see the future? Or did she simply dole out vague, pithy statements that could be interpreted any which way by gullible patrons desperate for happy news?

Jane took a deep breath, steadying her nerves
. The latter, of course. She’d let her imagination run wild, nothing more. The spark extinguished.

“I see happiness in your future,” the gypsy continued
. “A great love. A soul mate.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Madame
. There is no love in my future.”  Now Jane knew that the woman did not possess the gift of foresight. It was impossible.

“Oh, but you are wrong, miss
. Quite wrong. The man I speak of will love you above all else. You, and the child you carry.”

Jane gasped sharply, snatching back her hands and rising so quickly that the chair she’d sat in toppled to one side
. “You are mistaken,” she repeated, her voice tremulous. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense.” 

With shaking hands, Jane retrieved her gloves and hurried out, the pain in her heart all but taking her breath away
.
How could the gypsy know
? The question echoed in her mind. What sort of sorcery did the woman practice?

Jane paused as she stepped back out into the sunlight, valiantly attempting to rein in her emotions as her eyes readjusted to the day’s brilliance
.

“Dear Lord, Jane, you’re as pale as a ghost
. What did Madame Cosmina say to you?”  Emily laid a hand on her forearm, peering up worriedly into her face.

“Nothing worth the coin I paid, that’s for certain
. Just a bunch of stuff and nonsense, and none of it worth repeating.”

“Emily’s right,” her mother said, reaching for Jane’s hand
. You suddenly look unwell. Perhaps we should go. Do you mind terribly, Emily? I fear that Jane has overtaxed herself today.”

“Of course I don’t mind
. Come, Jane.”  Emily threaded her arm through hers. “Let’s find our carriage and be off at once.”

Jane nodded in reply and allowed herself to be led back across the green, through the milling crowd, toward the waiting carriage
.

“Mrs. Tolland,” a feminine voice cried out
. “Have you met Richmond Park’s new vicar?”

Jane turned toward the voice and saw Mrs. Tanner from the shop standing with a slight, dark-haired man wearing an ill-fitting jacket
. He was handsome nonetheless, in a boyish, inconspicuous way.    

“New vicar?”  Emily turned to watch the pair hurry across the lawn toward them
. “I had no idea there was a new vicar at Richmond.”

“Indeed, he’s only come in the last week or so with his new wife, isn’t that so, Mr. Banks?”

“Indeed it is. I owe a great deal of gratitude to Lord Westfield. A fine man. A fine man, indeed.”

“Mrs. Tolland, this is Mr. Jonathan Banks
. Mr. Banks, Mrs. Cecil Tolland.”

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Tolland
. I’ve already met your husband today, whilst I was securing a new mount for my wife.”

“Allow me to present my cousin,” Emily offered
. “Miss Jane Rosemoor of Essex, and her mother, the Dowager Viscountess Rosemoor.”

“A pleasure.”  He bowed to them with a smile
. “My wife is off enjoying the theatrical production at the moment. I hope you’ll have the opportunity to make her acquaintance soon. She’s so far from home, and I know she longs to make some friends in the district.”

“Oh, the poor dear,” Mrs. Tanner interjected with the shake of her head
.

“You must pay us a call as soon as convenient, then,” Emily offered
. “I’d enjoy it very much.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tolland
. Indeed we will. Well, I won’t keep you ladies any longer.”

“Very well, then, Mr. Banks
. Good day.”  Emily nodded toward the vicar and shopkeeper with a smile.

Mr. Banks tipped his hat in reply. “Shall I escort you back to the festivities, Mrs. Tanner?”

“Why, thank you, sir.”  Mrs. Tanner laid her hand in the crook of his elbow with a smile. “Such a gentleman,” she said with a giggle. “Good day, ladies.”

“Oh, dear.”  Emily bit her lower lip as she gazed off toward the line of waiting carriages
.

“Whatever is wrong?” Jane asked, filled with trepidation.

“I think perhaps we should make haste to our carriage.”  Emily reached for Jane’s arm and steered her across the lawn, Jane’s mother huffing to keep up as they bustled toward the waiting conveyance.

“Mrs. Tolland,” an unmistakably masculine voice called out as they neared the road
. A familiar voice. “Off so soon?”  Jane’s heart accelerated.
Hayden
.

Her chest tightened
–she could barely breathe and she felt perilously lightheaded. Yet she could not allow her expression to betray any emotion nor the slightest trace of agitation. Not with her mother by her side. If only she could get away, dash right into the safety of the carriage and not look back. But she could not. Instead, she remained rooted to the spot, silent as he arrogantly strode over to join them.

“Miss Rosemoor,” he added, bowing to her, the infuriating man
. “I’m glad to see you have not yet returned to Essex.”

“Good day, Lord Westfield,” Emily interjected brightly
. Too brightly. “You must meet Miss Rosemoor’s mother, the Dowager Viscountess Rosemoor. Lady Rosemoor, I present Hayden Moreland, the Earl of Westfield. His estate, Richmond Park, is just across the wood from our home.”