Page 60 of The Duelist for the Ton
“Look at Sawbridge!” he said, his voice heightening in pitch. “He almost destroyed his good name by gallivanting about the park, half drunk—and he’s a man! It’s a hundred times worse if awomanis caught behaving in such a manner. Do you want to ruin yourself?”
“Brother, I—”
The adjoining door burst open and Nerissa rushed in.
“Your Grace, sir!” she cried. “Please don’t hurt Lady Portia!”
“Ah, the accomplice,” he said coldly. “I ought to have you dismissed.”
“Leave her alone!” Portia said. “Nerissa was only acting on my orders. You can’t dismiss her for being loyal.”
“Her loyalty should be towardme, as head of this family. Do you have any idea the danger you’re putting yourself in? DearGod Almighty, Portia, even if you care little for your own safety, are you so negligent of your maid’s?”
“Brother, I—”
“No!” he interrupted. “I’ll not hear another word from your lips. Speak again and I’ll have you thrashed and your maid dismissed, and I’ll ask Reeve to make sure that she never finds employment anywhere within fifty miles of London.”
Portia opened her mouth to respond, then glanced at her maid’s face, pale with terror, and closed it again.
“You’re not to visit that damned hospital again, do you hear me?” he said.
“Thewhat?”
“The hospital. I take it that’s where you’ve been, wandering the streets at the dead of night.”
Hardly the dead of night, given that it was barely nine o’clock, but Portia bit her lip and refrained from answering him back.
“It’s in a dangerous part of town,” he continued. “Anything could happen to you, two women on their own.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Dear God, why must you be so belligerent!” he cried. “Of course you can’t! No woman can. London’s a den of thieves and brigands at the best of times.”
“Are you speaking of yourself, brother? Are men like you a danger to women?”
He narrowed his eyes, and she caught a flicker of guilt. “We’re not speaking of me, we’re speaking of you. I can take care of myself.”
“And I can’t?” she retorted. “Do you even know what I’m capable of, whether I can defend myself?”
“You shouldn’t have to!” he said. “Don’t you see? My responsibility as head of this family is not simply to order you about and tell you what to do—it’s to… I…” He paused, hisvoice breaking, then shook his head. “Portia, do you know what was the one thing that our father made me promise on his deathbed?”
“To maintain the family honor, no doubt.”
He blinked, and a sheen of moisture gleamed in his eyes. “No, sister,” he said. “He made me promise, above all else, to keep you safe—and happy.”
“And do you think I’m happy, Adam?”
He flinched at her use of his name, then he sighed.
“But you’resafe,” he said, taking her hand. “At least, that’s what I would have you be.”
“I suppose you think I’m dishonoring the family name by enjoying a bit of freedom, that I’m failing you somehow.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m failingyou.” He gestured to the cup. “Drink your chocolate. I take it the money you’re attempting to conceal is for that McIver fellow? You know Dr. Lucas thinks him a charlatan.”
“It’s Dr. Lucas who’s the charlatan,” Portia said. “Even his daughter thinks so.”
“Dear Lord, you’re not associating yourself with a doctor’s daughter?”
