He will tell and you will be ruined! You should never have risked so much for a few hours of pleasure.
But as she began to think clearly once more, she realized that he had not threatened her with disclosure. He had sought her out because he wanted to see her again. It was an impossible madness. Yes, he must be mad!
But how had he found her? How had he known who she was? He had tricked her, followed her, broken their agreement.
There was no point in worrying about such details now, she told herself grimly. She had to deal with the facts, and they were plain and simple. He had found her and he did know who she was, and he wanted to continue meeting her. Somehow she must drive him away, make him understand he could not have what he demanded. Somehow she must untangle herself from the mess she’d created.
But her body gave the lie to her cool head.
There was an ache deep in her belly, a throbbing between her thighs, and a tingling on her lips. She was lying to herself when she said she didn’t want him as much as ever, and he’d known it. He had shown her just how much of a lie it was, forced her to see…and then walked away.
“My lady?” It was the servant with their refreshments. Portia stretched her mouth into a smile and proceeded him into the box. Aunt Jane’s sharp old eyes slid over her, but thankfully, she was more interested in the cream cakes and Madeira.
It was not until the curtain was set to rise for the next act that Arnold leaned across and pressed something into her hand. “You dropped this, Portia,” he said smoothly.
She looked down and saw that it was the crumpled note. Had he read it? Did her expression give her away? She hoped not. Her smile was as calm as ever as she thanked him. He didn’t seem to want an explanation, but then Arnold was so self-obsessed she would not expect him to ask for one. Lara hushed them as Jenny Lind began to sing once more.
But the evening was spoiled for Portia. Her life was in tatters, and although she would like to have blamed Marcus for it, she knew the fault was as much hers. He had hunted her down, and a treacherous, dangerous part of her was glad.
Chapter 7
Lara scowled. “I hate her, Arnold. I try to be charitable but I cannot help it. Why did my father marry her? He didn’t need a wife, especially a parson’s daughter with nothing to recommend her.”
Arnold watched her, sipping his brandy, waiting for the anger and resentment to wind down. The wine at dinner hadn’t helped. Lara tended to be louder and less cautious when she’d been drinking.
“I tried to persuade him not to. He wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Your father was a brave soldier and a clever general, but he was still a man, Lara.”
“What does that mean?”
“He saw Portia and he was smitten.”
“He felt sorry for her,” Lara retorted. “He did not love her. My father was a compassionate man, not a fool.”
She continued to rant, striding back and forth, more like her father than she knew. Arnold let her words wash over him. He had more important things
to think about. When she was done, he would speak to her about the favor he wanted her to ask of Portia. And no matter how much Lara professed to hate her stepmother, she would do it.
She always did.
“So you want me to find out what exactly, sir?” Martin looked at him sideways.
“I want to know her engagements for the next fortnight. Which houses she is invited to, who she will be visiting, who will be visiting her, that sort of thing.” Marcus waved a vague hand.
“And this is Lady Ellerslie?” Martin said, as if he couldn’t believe Marcus was serious. “The Widow of the Nation’s—”
“Hero. Yes, that’s right.”
Martin looked as if he wanted to ask more questions.
“This is a personal matter,” Marcus assured him.
“Ah, I see.” A twinkle came into his eye.
“And Sebastian certainly doesn’t need to know.”
“Of course not. This is between you and me then, is it?”