"Nothing," she murmured back. "I am just deciding that I can possibly have my cake and eat it too, Jemmie."

"God help us all," he rejoined.

Jasmine again became the consummate hostess. "Dear Lady Jane," she said, "you know, of course, our good Samuel Steen. And this is my cousin, Father Cullen Butler."

"My lady." The priest bowed politely.

She gave him the barest nod, and then turned her head away.

"And it is good to see you again, Shane Devers," Cullen Butler said, ignoring the woman's snub. He knew of her reputation, and was not in the least offended. How it must pain her to have to sit quietly in the same room with him, he thought wickedly. I must give myself a penance for my mean spiritedness, he considered. Three Aves at most.

"Father," came the greeting from Sir Shane. "I suppose you've seen Kieran recently." It was said almost bitterly.

"I see him," was the answer. No use rubbing salt into that wound. He wasn't responsible for Kieran Devers's decisions, nor was the church.

"The young people seem to be getting on quite well," the Reverend Steen noted cheerfully.

"Aye," his companions responded.

"They make a handsome couple, don't they?" Reverend Steen said.

More murmurs of assent followed this observation.

"There should be more to a good union than just two pretty faces," Lady Jane said sharply.

"In that I certainly concur," Jasmine agreed.

"Perhaps," Cullen Butler said, "Lady Fortune would like to take Master William for a ride about the estate."

"What a good idea!" Fortune said. Sir Shane seemed pleasant enough, but she did not like Lady Jane for all her sweet speeches. She wanted a chance to be with the handsome William Devers, and see if he pleased her. If there was any spark that might be ignited between them. "Would you like to ride?" she asked him.

"I have no horse," he said. "We came in the coach." He looked disappointed.

"We have plenty of horses," Fortune laughed. "Adali, go and tell the stables we will need two horses. I'll go change into something more suitable. Is it all right, Mama?"

"Of course," Jasmine agreed. She understood what Fortune was doing, and approved.

Fortune dashed from the hall, returning some minutes later to call to William Devers, "Come on, William!" Then she was gone again.

He followed after her, grinning, even as he heard his mother behind him expressing shock at Fortune's garb.

"Your daughter rides astride? In breeches?"

He didn't hear the duchess's answer, but suspected it was pithy. He thought Fortune's breeches rather charming. They were not baggy, but rather nicely fitted, revealing her well-shaped legs and bottom. She was also wearing a sleeveless, deep blue silk doublet with silver buttons over a white shirt with balloon sleeves. It was all quite fetching.

The stableboy was holding two horses, one a fine dappled gray gelding that Fortune immediately mounted. The other was a tall, big-boned, shining black gelding. William took the reins from the lad, and swung himself up into the saddle.

"His name is Oberon," Fortune told William. "Come on! Follow me!"

He trailed after her out of the castle's small courtyard, over the drawbridge, and through the village, gradually edging his mount up until they were finally riding side by side. "You do not ride a mare?"

"Nay, Rory Maguire, our estate manager, feels Thunder and I are suited to one another. I like a horse with a bit of spirit, and Thunder has a spritely nature. Do you like to ride?"

"Aye, I do. Sitting about poring over accounts as my father does isn't my idea of great amusement."

"That's why we have an estate manager," Fortune said.

"Aren't you afraid he'll steal from you? After all he is Irish," William Devers said.

"So are you," she replied. "At least on your father's side."

"I have always thought of myself as British," he said.

"You were born in Ireland. You live in Ireland. Your father is Irish. You are Irish," Fortune told him with perfect logic. "Now I, on the other hand, have a slightly more complicated lineage. My father was an Englishman. My stepfather is a Scot. My mother is Indian on her father's side, and Irish, English, and French on her mother's side. I am the niece of the current Grande Mughal, and my Leslie half-brothers are related to the Ottoman sultan. We have an extremely knotty, complex, intricate, and elaborately labyrinthine family tree, William Devers."

"You are utterly fascinating," he said. "I have never met a girl like you at all. Why do you want to marry me?"

"I don't know if I do," Fortune said honestly. "I have yet to find a man to love, and love I must if I marry. I suppose that all sounds very romantic and silly, but it is how I feel, William Devers."

"I am known as Will to my friends," he said. "I hope you will learn to love me, Fortune, for I think I am already half in love with you. You are so alive!"

"What a lovely thing to say, Will." She smiled at him, and then, "Oh, look! That is the tree from which my mother hanged my father's murderer. That very limb up there." She pointed. "They say my mother never flinched but ordered he be hanged with my father's belt, and stood watching as he died. He actually meant to kill Mama. She and my father were riding, and had stopped to speak with my sister, India, who was only a small girl. She wanted to be taken up on Mama's horse, and when Mama bent down for her, it was then the shot rang out. My father was killed instead. The men came from the fields and saw the glint of a musket up upon the hill. They ran as fast as they could and captured the culprit. He was the same man Mama had dismissed as the estate's agent, and he was bold enough to admit it was Mama he had wanted to kill."

"Why did she dismiss him?" William was curious.

"He was cruel and he was bigoted. He had driven Mama's villagers from Maguire's Ford because they were Catholic. He planned to populate the place with only Protestants. He thought Mama too forward for a woman, and believed my father was bewitched by her."

"You don't approve of driving Catholics away." It was a statement.

"Nay, I do not. Why would you drive decent, hard-working people from their homes based upon their religious preference?" Fortune said.

"They'd murder us given the chance," he replied.

"I know that, but you'd do the same," Fortune told him in exasperated tones. "Do you think I am a dunce, Will Devers? There is anger and bigotry on both sides of the issue. I understand that, but I believe the English would be better off if they just came to Ireland to rule, and left everyone to live in peace, but no. The English must have their way in all things, and so the Irish will resist with all their might. 'Tis madness."

"You think a great deal for a young girl," he noted as they moved away from the hanging tree.

"Do you not approve of a woman being educated then, Will?"

"I have always been taught a woman's place is in the home, supervising her servants, and her children. She is responsible for their welfare, both temporal and spiritual, as well as pleasing her husband in whatever ways he may desire, and making his home a place of peace."

"Does a woman have to be uneducated to do all those things?" Fortune asked him seriously. She glanced over at him so she might see his face when he answered, and know if he was prevaricating.

"My mother has taught my sisters all manner of household duties," he began.

"Can they read? Or do arithmetic? Do they speak other languages than their own? Do they know the history of their country, or where the New World is on a map? Can they look up in the sky at night, and name the stars, Will?" Fortune waited for his answer.

"Why would they need to know these things?" he wondered.

"If you cannot read or write, how can you truly manage your household accounts? If you do not know arithmetic, how can you be certain that your estate manager isn't cheating you? Knowing other languages allows you to speak with the French, the Italians, the Germans. As for the rest, it is simply fun to know these things, Will. Knowledge gives one power. All the women in my family are educated. I intend educating my sons and daughters, too. You read and write, don't you?"

"Of course!" he replied hastily. "But my sisters do not. Mary, Colleen, and Lizzie are all married women. They have no need of an education such as you describe. My mother certainly didn't. She was my grandsire Elliot's only child, and heiress. My father wanted an heiress for a wife because he was poor in monies though rich in land. My grandfather wanted a man with a goodly estate and cattle. That is how matches are made, Fortune. It doesn't matter if the bride is educated or not. It is her property first, and then her charm that win her a husband."

"I still prefer being an educated woman. The women in my family do not have husbands who stray because they are interesting both in and out of the bedchamber," Fortune said proudly. "I hear it said your father has a mistress."

He flushed. "Young ladies should not speak of such things, or even know about them for that matter." Then he chuckled. "You are a most outspoken girl, aren't you?"

"Would you rather I dissemble? Or be coy, and giggle like so many girls on the husband hunt?" she demanded of him.

"No," he said, surprising himself, but he liked her frankness. His mother would not, but then it was not really her choice, it was his. He had never met a girl like Fortune Mary Lindley, and he found he was totally intrigued by her. "How old are you?" he asked her.

"Nineteen," she said. "And you?"

"Twenty-three," he responded.

"See that hill over there?" she said. "I'll race you!" Then she was off on her gelding, dashing across the terrain like some ancient huntress. Her hair came loose from its chignon, and fanned out, blowing wildly in the breeze created by her speed.

He dashed after her. He was not only intrigued, but excited by this flame-haired beauty with her blunt speech. He could hardly wait to bed her on their wedding night, for he had already made up his mind that she would be his wife. Even if she hadn't had a ha-penny to her name he would want her. Perhaps not as a wife under those circumstances, but he would want her.

Fortune made no pretense of letting him win the race between them. It was not her way. She played to win. Thunder covered the ground in great bounding strides, but she could hear the black gelding close behind her. She leaned low on the horse's neck, encouraging him to even greater speed. The wind was cool and damp on her face. The day was beginning to cloud over. It would soon rain, Fortune thought as Thunder topped the hill only to come face to face with another rider coming from the other direction. The two horses came to a quick halt.

"Kieran!" She heard William Devers say behind her as he topped the hill. "This is Lady Fortune Lindley. Fortune, this is my half-brother, Kieran Devers."

The horseman, tall, lean, and dark-haired, looked her over boldly. "Yer a proper hoyden if I've ever seen one," he said, reaching out to finger a lock of her blazing red hair.

"And yer a fool, I am told," Fortune responded angrily.

He laughed, and then said to William, "Does your mother approve of her, Willy?"

"She approves of my dowry," Fortune shot back, "but you get ahead of yourself, Master Devers, for no betrothal has yet been arranged, nor will it be unless I want it to be arranged."

"Don't wed her, Willy," his elder brother advised. "She's too much of a handful for you, I can see it." Then he laughed again at the look of outrage on Fortune's face. "I think your cousin Emily Anne Elliot will make you a far better wife than this wildcat."

"Kieran!" William's voice was anguished. He turned to Fortune, his face flushed with his embarrassment. "My brother is naught but teasing, Fortune. He has a rather odd sense of humor. Please forgive him. He means no harm."

"None at all," Kieran Devers agreed, flashing her a wicked smile. "None at all, m'lady Fortune."

She glared at him, and his eyes danced mischievously. They were dark eyes. Dark green eyes. And he was outrageously handsome. Even more so than his younger brother. He had a recklessness about him in comparison to Will's civilized manner. She would have never known they were brothers-half-brothers, she amended to herself. William Devers looked like his father. Tall, well-made, and sturdy with his mother's light blue eyes and chestnut-gold hair. He had an elegant nose, a small mouth, and well-spaced eyes set in a round face. But his brother, Kieran, was taller, with a long face, a squared jaw, a big mouth, and a nose that appeared to have been hewn out of granite. He was craggy and fierce looking while his sibling appeared the epitome of a civilized gentleman. A man like Kieran Devers was dangerous, and not to be tolerated.