"Fergus Duffy, and how is your good wife, Bride?" Jasmine called up to the coachman with a smile. "My daughter is looking forward to meeting her godmother." The duchess drew her child forward. "This is Fortune, Rory. Fergus, this is the lady Fortune."

The coachman tipped his head in greeting.

Rory Maguire took Fortune's slender gloved hand and, raising it to his lips, kissed it. "I welcome you, my lady, and hope Maguire's Ford will please you so that you will want to remain."

Fortune looked directly into the blue eyes assessing her. She felt a sudden and odd sense of recognition, yet she had been but an infant when this man had seen her last. "I thank you, sir," she replied, puzzled as to the strange feelings she was now experiencing.

"I've a lovely little black mare with me you might enjoy," Rory said to Fortune, releasing her hand.

"I'd prefer that fine dappled gray gelding," Fortune said pointing, and quickly recovering from her earlier sensitivities.

"He's a wee bit unpredictable," the estate manager cautioned.

"So am I," Fortune-replied with a mischievous grin.

Rory Maguire laughed heartily. "Do you think you can handle him, my lady? I'll not have you being tossed about. 'Twould be a poor welcome home, I'm thinking."

"There's not a horse alive I can't handle," Fortune boasted.

Maguire looked to the duke and duchess, and when James Leslie nodded his approval, the Irishman said, "His name is Thunder, my lady. Come, and I'll give you a hand up."

"My baggage?" Fortune queried.

"We'll need several carts," Jasmine said. "Fortune brought all her possessions as she hopes to remain here in Ireland."

"We can hire them here in town," Rory replied. "I wasn't certain the lassie would be remaining or not."