Page 78 of The Duke Says I Do
Mrs. Bilson’s ball had been a highlight of the season since her daughter, Lily’s debut in 1816. Lily’s engagement to Alexander Comerford had been announced a week ago, so this year’s event celebrated the betrothal. Portia couldn’t miss it without her absence being questioned.
Before she’d spent three days in the country with her lover, that had seemed simple. It didn’t seem simple tonight as she arrived at the Bilsons’ house with Kate and Leighton. She hadn’t wanted to return to London. She hadn’t wanted to part from Alaric.
The Portia who came back to London was a different person from the Portia who had left. It was a shock to return home to discover that everybody treated her as they’d always done. That easy acceptance irked her, even if it was safe.
Since Juliet’s marriage, she’d stayed with Papa because he needed someone to run his household. But now he was back in London, he was busy with his theatrical interests. He was home so rarely that a good housekeeper could manage the house without him noticing much difference.
Perhaps it was time for Portia to set up her own establishment. An establishment that she could fill with stray dogs and nobody to tell her nay. An establishment that offered a little privacy.
She couldn’t avoid housing a chaperone, but she could choose one who wouldn’t examine her comings and goings too closely. Mary would be ideal. Aunt Mabel would be happy to relinquish her current responsibilities and return to her dower house in Derbyshire. London was too noisy and crowded for her these days.
As Portia stepped out of the Shelburns’ carriage, she had a sense that a new life beckoned. A new life where she could live on her own terms at last.
Tonight, she’d see Alaric. And tomorrow morning. They couldn’t kiss or touch, but she’d bask in his presence, however briefly. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to be until they arranged another tryst. Maybe the next time that she left London for Surrey, she’d depart from a house of her own.
“You’re looking very jolly all of a sudden,” Kate said with a hint of sourness, when she turned to check on why Portia lagged behind.
Startled, Portia gaped at her friend. “I’m happy for Lily.”
She was. Alexander and Lily would go along together very well.
“I’m sure,” Kate retorted, taking Leighton’s arm and stepping toward the front door.
“Aren’t you?”
“Of course I am, but you’ve been as dismal as a wet Sunday since we collected you.”
“I haven’t.” She dipped her head to avoid the light of the torches blazing on the house’s front steps.
“Definitely quieter than usual,” Leighton said, tucking his wife’s arm in his.
“I’m a little tired,” Portia said. Both true and a massive understatement. Alaric’s voracious sexual appetite had kept her awake for most of the last few days. During the week before that, nerves and longing had robbed her of sleep.
“You’re looking a bit peaky,” Kate said thoughtfully.
“How kind,” Portia responded. “When I tried so hard to be at my best.”
That was also true. She thought her new dress in teal-green satin became her. She’d spent more time than usual titivating, and Betty had put her hair up in a tumbling mass of curls. Portiawasn’t too proud to admit that she wanted Alaric to admire her. In fact, she wanted him to take one look and burn to cart her off to bed.
They couldn’t do anything about that in Mayfair. But if she had to hunger for him, by heaven, she wanted him hungering for her in return.
Leighton cast his wife an unimpressed glance before he smiled at Portia. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you.” Portia took his other arm, as they entered the tall, white house and swept up the elaborate staircase.
Luckily, the ballroom was so crammed with the bluest blood in the land – Lily and Alexander were a popular couple and they belonged to influential families – that once inside, Portia could avoid Kate without being too overt. Her friend had sharp eyes, and she was already suspicious of Portia and Alaric.
Portia was thankful that her sisters weren’t in London. They’d know immediately that something significant had happened. The moment they saw her with Alaric, they’d guess who to blame.
A quick survey of the room as the dancing started allowed her to locate him partnering Lady Colville. Kate and Leighton danced together, and Portia accepted Ivor Bilson’s invitation. He was so excited about his sister’s engagement, he only mentioned fishing twice.
The ball went along as most balls did. Usually, Portia enjoyed the social whirl, but tonight her mind was focused on Alaric and how soon they could be together again. The first waltz took forever to arrive. When he crossed the room to claim her as his partner, she was with the Tierneys.
“Lady Portia, I believe this is our dance,” he said, after acknowledging the others.
He looked like the man who had proposed to Juliet. Composed. Restrained. Elegant. He sounded like that man, too. Cool. Uninvolved. A stranger to passion.
But after three tumultuous days in his arms, Portia knew better. Her body still hummed with the pleasure they’d shared.
