Page 16 of The Duelist for the Ton
“Yes, but my penmanship is appalling.”
“It always was, if I recall. The penmanship of a pug, my brother always said.”
“Oh, is he as overbearing as usual?”
“Worse,” she said, with a laugh, and they were soon engaged in conversation.
“I see she’s charmed every man in the room,” Stephen said.
Broom let out a snort. “Every man except one, it seems. Why have you taken against her? Is it perhaps to hide your desire?”
“I care nothing for her.”
“Tell that to your cock,” Broom said. “No man can be indifferent to any woman, let alone one such as her.”
“She is beautiful, I’ll admit…”
“Oh, you’ll admit, will you?” Broom chuckled. “Lady Portia’s a damned sight more than that. She’s intelligent and charming. Even you would admit that a man has much to gain from the company of a beautiful woman.”
“Ohyes,” Stephen said, unable to temper the bitterness in his voice. “She’ll make him the envy of his friends, and there’s nothing more effective than envy in destroying friendships. Every admirer and adventurer will see her as a challenge, and eventually she’ll succumb—as all women do—to temptation and flattery. In a woman’s eyes, there will always be a wealthier, handsomer, or greater-titled alternative to the man she promises herself to, and thus the man who falls for her wiles will be left rejected and brokenhearted. The envy of his friends, which will have cost him many friendships, will now turn to pity and disdain.”
“Reid, not all women are like—”
“Spare me, Broom,” Stephen growled. “I have no intention of losing my heart, to Lady Portia or any other woman. I’ll not be made a fool of again.”
He squeezed his friend’s hand, then rose to his feet and bowed. As he exited the hospital, he glanced over his shoulder at the elegant figure weaving in among the beds, exchanging words and smiles with the occupants.
Beautiful she might be, but Lady Portia was a woman. Even if she weren’t tempted by the material benefits of a better man, what woman would want to cleave herself to a man such as he? A man who spent every night tormented by the demons of war; a man set on the path to madness.
No woman deservedthat.
Chapter Five
“Sister, your dancecard is not full.”
Portia glared at her brother. “Am I not to be granted some respite, or would you have me sprain my ankle from fatigue?”
“Sir Heath Moss is eager to dance with you again.”
“One dance with that rake is more than enough for any woman to stomach. I wouldn’t want to be seen to encourage him by agreeing to a second dance.”
Besides, at dawn tomorrow, she would be taking Sir Heath’s place in a duel against Lord Maybury. It wouldn’t do to spend too much time with the man in case he recognized her. The hunger in his eyes was, she assumed, merely animal lust, but it was best not to rely on it being the spark of recognition.
“A man as popular with the ladies as he does you great honor asking for a second dance.”
Portia snorted. “Hispopularity, as you call it, is purely due to his looks, which he uses to his advantage.”
“Granted, he’s a little wild, but marriage to the right woman will settle him.”
Portia’s stomach tightened with nausea.Sweet Lord—surely her brother didn’t mean to shackle her tothatreprobate?
“I beg to disagree, Adam,” she said. “His idea of the right woman is one with a title and a large enough dowry to fund his excesses. He only associates with you because of your higher rank.”
“Are you saying you dislike him because he’s only a baronet?”
“I dislike him because he’s a rake and a bully, with a reputation for compromising innocents.”
“I’ve not heard of any such reputation.”
