Page 14 of The Duelist for the Ton
“Lady Portia!” Broom cried, extending his hands. “To what do I owe the pleasure of the company of my favorite nurse?”
Damn.
The woman in question stood before them. How come ladies had the ability to glide about the floor so quietly? To catch men unawares, perhaps.
Had she heard him?
She tilted her head to one side, casting Stephen a cursory glance. Her closeness only emphasized her beauty—perfect porcelain skin, with a faint flush of rose on her cheeks. A slight grimace played on her lips, and he caught a flicker of disdain in her eyes.
Aye, a haughty miss, indeed.
Most young ladies seemed to think such haughtiness was desirable to the opposite sex, as if the prospect of being saddled with a harridan in a loveless union was a man’s primaryobjective. No doubt she’d wed herself to a titled man, then triumph over her rivals and bask in their resentful admiration.
As to Captain Broom—no doubt she’d soon wipe the lovesick smile from his face with the put-downs so often issued by ladies such as her.
She turned to the man in the bed, and her face broke into a smile.
Sweet Lord almighty!Pretty enough she might be, but that smile rendered her breathtaking.
Stephen’s heart stuttered and he fought to draw a breath. Her eyes sparkled with pleasure and compassion as she reached forward and took Broom’s hands.
“Captain Broom, the pleasure is all mine,” she said.
“Might I introduce you to my friend, Lady Portia?” Broom said. “Reid, this is Lady Portia Hawke. Lady Portia, this is Colonel Stephen Reid, my comrade in arms, who fought alongside me at Waterloo.”
She turned her attention to Stephen once more, her expression cooling. His gut twisted at the intensity of her gaze, as if she had the ability to penetrate a man’s façade and delve into his soul.
“A pleasure, I’m sure, colonel,” she said, extending her hand.
He took it, and a bolt of need fizzed through his blood as he slid his fingers between hers. Her nostrils flared, and for a moment, the warmth of desire flickered in her eyes. Then she blinked and it was gone. She withdrew her hand and a sense of loss rippled through his body.
She gestured toward her companion. “My maid, Nerissa—Miss Price.”
What the devil was a woman of her rank doing introducing hermaid? Lady Portia frowned, then Stephen extended his hand to her companion.
“Miss Price, a pleasure.”
Lady Portia resumed her attention on the man in the bed. “It warms my heart to see you looking so well, Captain Broom,” she said, “doesn’t it, Nerissa?”
“It does, Lady Portia. Will you be returning home soon, captain?”
“I leave next week, Miss Nerissa.”
“I’m sure Miss Flynn will be delighted to hear that. Have you written to her?”
“I have, and I sent her the book of poems you recommended.”
What was the maid doing, speaking out of turn? Her mistress was likely to admonish her forwardness, so why was Broom encouraging such behavior?
The captain let out a chuckle. “My friend is somewhat discomposed, Miss Price.”
The maid colored and glanced at her mistress. A flicker of disdain shone in Lady Portia’s eyes.
“Do you disapprove of my maid having a voice, Colonel Reid?” she said.
Stephen shook his head. “I merely find it astonishing that a woman of your rank—”
“Is not displaying the behavior of a haughty miss who cares nothing for others whom you have absolutely no desire to know?”
