Page 143 of The Duelist for the Ton
Instead, the corners of his eyes creased into a smile.
“And do you love him, puss?”
She nodded against Stephen’s broad chest.
“Then I suppose I’ve no choice but to give my consent,” Adam said. “But mark my words, Reid—you harm a single hair on my sister’s head, aversion to gunfire or not, I’ll shoot you down.”
Stephen placed his hand on the back of Portia’s head and caressed her hair. “I would not have it any other way.”
“Then come shake my hand.”
Stephen released Portia from his embrace and approached Adam’s outstretched hand. Then he took it, and the two menstared at each other for several heartbeats before they released their grips.
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Adam said. “It will be my gift. The archbishop can have no objection to your being married at St George’s. We can have the banns read on Sunday.”
“No!” Portia said. “Please, Adam.”
“Don’t you want a Society wedding?” he said. “I thought every young woman—”
“I thought you’d already admitted that I’mnotevery young woman,” she said. “I’d prefer a quiet ceremony, with the people I love—with Eleanor and Juliette, and Angela of course, if she wishes it.”
“My sister would never forgive me if we didn’t invite her,” Stephen said. “And she most certainly would never have forgiven me had I not reconciled with you.”
“And…” Portia hesitated. “I want Stephania to be there, at the ceremony. I’ll not have her hidden away.”
Her brother raised his eyebrows, then, at length, he nodded.
“Of course,” he said. “I can arrange a special license and you can be married privately here, if you like.” He turned to Portia’s maid. “Nerissa, could you speak to Mrs. Platt about making up a chamber for Colonel Reid?” He met Portia’s gaze and smiled. “And for the chamber next to my sister’s to be prepared for my niece, now she has come home.”
Portia smiled at her brother.
Thank you…
“And now, I think it’s time we rejoined the other gentlemen,” he said. “Thorpe, Devereaux, I thank you for your service, but it seems you’re not needed after all. Nerissa, perhaps you could take my niece back to the house—young Tilly can help, and I’ll speak to the Bensons.”
“But my mistress…”
“Is, I think, eager to be reunited with the colonel,” Adam said, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Is that not right, Portia?”
A low growl reverberated from the broad-chested man next to her, and Portia nodded, her cheeks warming.
Nerissa approached, arms outstretched. “Let me take you, precious one,” she cooed, and the baby gave a satisfied little grunt as the maid took her in her arms. “I’ll take care of her for you, Lady Portia—for as long as you need.”
“Shouldn’t we stay for—” Tilly began, but Stephen interrupted.
“Your mistress will be quite well with me.”
A ripple of desire threaded through Portia as he took her hand, linking his fingers through hers, and lifted it to his lips. Then she blushed as her brother’s knowing gaze settled on her, a glint of wickedness in his eyes.
Tilly bobbed a curtsey, then linked her arm through Nerissa’s as the two maids set off toward the house. Adam turned and retreated toward the woods, his companions in his wake.
As she watched them disappear, Stephen’s warm, solid arms drew her close. Then he steered her toward the picnic blanket and sat, pulling her down beside him.
“Now, my love,” he said, his voice low and hungry. “What shall we do?”
“There’s apple pie,” she said. “I was about to cut a slice when…”
She paused, biting back tears.
