Page 47 of Fortune’s Final Folly

“Mr. Daniel Burns,” Joshua roared. “Where in the bloody hell is your client?”

Chapter 17

A’laya stood in the small room off the main area of the schoolroom where tables and chairs had once filled the space. There was still a prevalent, acidic aroma in the air; however, with time, it would grow less and less pronounced until it was gone entirely. The damaged floorboards had been removed, as well as the scorched walls. Her daughter had shared on their carriage ride to Cheapside that a new door and front window would soon replace the gaping holes in the part of the building that faced the street.

It was nearly inconceivable that Kate—A’laya was slowly adjusting to her daughter’s preferred name—had been asleep upstairs during it all.

The metal at her neck heated as it often did when A’laya thought of her daughter.

Before yesterday, it had been nothing more than a deep-seated longing that she feared would never be realized. Yet, now, only a dozen feet away, Kate moved a wood rocking chair toward the stairs. The intricately carved back had been charred in the blaze. The chair must have meant a great deal to Kate because she lifted it with a loving touch, not allowing the curved bottom to scrape the newly nailed-down floorboards.

There was so much A’laya had yet to learn about Kate. Her questions seemed endless.

Though, despite that, she remained quiet, happy to simply watch the daughter she’d never thought to see again. There would be time—years ahead of them—to discuss everything they’d missed in each other’s lives. Their future was endless. For now, A’laya was content to just be in Kate’s presence.

And what a presence her daughter possessed.

It was as if she didn’t realize the command she held over every room she entered. It was subtle but evident. Servants in Lord Stuart’s home had found every occasion to speak with Kate. When they arrived in Cheapside, a pair of ladies greeted Kate with an embrace. It hadn’t surprised A’laya in the slightest that Lord Stuart kept watch on Kate until they’d safely entered the schoolroom. Only then had he turned to his own building.

A’laya had spent a great many years plagued with nightmares. In some, Kate lived in squalor, hungry, filthy, and without love. In others, her daughter had been deposited in a home for abandoned children. Once, she’d dreamt of finding a tiny cross on Shrewbury land and was forced to accept her daughter had been lost to her forever.

It gave her some semblance of peace to know that Kate had been raised in a loving home with a mother and father who adored her, cared for her, and made sure she had an education and a home. They’d loved Kate as their own. This had given A’laya pause, but any lingering strings of jealousy over the vicar and his wife being given the gift of loving Kate had diminished as quickly as they appeared. It hadn’t been their fault that Kate had been stolen from A’laya. That was the Duke and Duchess of Shrewbury’s doing. They were the villainous pair, not the Elliotts.

A’laya allowed herself to envy the couple’s years raising her daughter, but jealousy was not warranted.

They’d protected Kate in a way no one had safeguarded A’laya after she met Pierce and left her family home.

She stooped to pick up an assortment of books that were scattered haphazardly across the small room.

She recalled the story Kate had relayed to her, and a shudder went down her spine at the thought of Kate and Joshua being trapped with no way out.

“I can collect those.” Kate rushed over and took the books A’laya had managed to pick up. “I did not invite you to accompany me for the day only to put you to work. Please, sit down. The upstairs has been deemed usable. You can lie down if needed, or I can set water to boil for tea.”

The empathy in Kate’s sparkling grey-blue eyes pained A’laya more than her aching back.

“I am not one to lounge about when things need to be done.”

Kate smiled, and for a brief moment, A’laya’s heart stopped beating, and she was transported to another time and place.

“What?” Kate dipped and collected a few more books.

“You have your grandmother’s smile,” A’laya confessed. She was thrilled to not see a speck of Pierce in the woman. “You have her eyes, too.”

Kate met her stare, scrutinizing A’laya’s own countenance. “I have your eyes.”

“I did not seek to be so bold,” A’laya said with a laugh.

If anyone had told A’laya a fortnight prior she’d be standing in a room, chatting and laughing with her daughter, A’laya would have thought the person deranged.

“Tell me of your family,” Kate asked lightly, busying herself around the room.

A’laya had wanted to pour her heart out since finding Kate the day before. She’d wanted to shout it from on high and share everything about her past and that of their home country. She’d longed to ask Kate if she’d been treated differently than the other children because of her differences, if she’d wondered all these years where she’d inherited her creamy, tan skin, curling, black hair, and captivating, grey-blue eyes. What of the freckles that no doubt sprinkled across the bridge of her nose and cheeks when she spent too much time in the sun? Did she loathe them or love them?

Yet, deeper than her outward appearance, A’laya saw the internal similarities between she and her daughter.

Even without A’laya, Kate had become a self-assured, independent, generous, and intelligent woman. This was evident in how she’d taken care of herself in the years since her parents’ passing.

A’laya would have been lost and desolate if she’d been left with neither of her parents. She’d been naïve and susceptible to Pierce’s lies, going so far as to ignore her mother’s warning of the man. However, A’laya had thought herself in love, and she possessed the same determined streak she recognized in her daughter.