Page 103 of The Duelist for the Ton
“Portia, can’t you see, I…”
He trailed off, and the emotion in his eyes threatened to shatter her defiance. She had earned his irritation from the moment she’d arrived in the world—an arrival that had resulted in their mother’s exit from it. She was the little sister who trotted behind him, clinging to his shirttails, seeking the comfort from a brother that only a mother could have given. As they’d grown into adulthood and Adam had been thrust into the responsibilityas head of the family after their father’s passing, that irritation had turned into frustration and anger—anger at her refusal to conform to the constraints of Society, and frustration from having to shoulder the responsibility of a dukedom. Even his disappointment she could weather, given that it was never directly solely at her. He seemed permanently disappointed with the rest of the world.
But his sorrow… That was something she had witnessed only in others. Even the most stoic of rakes expressed a hint of sorrow, their shuttered expressions never quite concealing their inner pain. But as for Adam, his clear blue gaze had always spoken of rationality and determination. Even as a boy when she’d broken his toy boat, he’d calmly explained the folly of her actions—as if a child of two summers would learn from her mistakes. But Portia had never believed him capable of sadness.
Until now.
“I don’t blame your maid,” he said, his voice heavy with weariness. “Nor do I blame you. I blame myself.”
“You…?”
“Permit me to speak while I have the inclination,” he said. “I have failed you. It was my duty to care for you when Mother died, but instead, I blamed you for taking her from me, for giving me the responsibility of a child who was not the younger brother I’d hoped for.” He let out a sigh and shook his head. “Then, when Pater died, I found myself not only responsible for the sister I never…”
He hesitated and closed his eyes. Portia’s heart ached, and she placed her hand over his. “The sister you never wanted?”
“I was young at the time,” he said. “Barely sixteen—old enough to be a man in the eyes of the law, but…”
“But not so old as to suppress your true feelings and portray the wishes and desires that were socially acceptable?” She smiled. “Fathers want sons, and sons want brothers. I cannotblame you for that—or, at least, if I must blame you, then I must blame every other man in Society, and most of the women, who perpetuate that belief.”
“If it’s any consolation, I have, for many years, regretted my wishes, and I’m grateful to have you as my sister, even if…”
“Even if I disobey you at every turn?”
“Even if you secretly indulge in the business of dueling.”
Her stomach clenched with fear.
“Who told you?”
He paused, then tilted his head to one side. “You just did.”
“Brother, I—”
He raised his hand. “I suspected it when I saw you entering the house this morning. But it made sense. You always were a bloody good shot—better than I could ever be.”
Heknew? Why, then, did he not rage at her—threaten to confine her in her chamber, under lock and key, until she learned to behave?
“You’re not angry?”
He sighed. “I’ve expended too much effort in being angry at you, sister, to no avail. I’ve no wish to be angry with you merely to punish you. My anger was only ever a result of my wish to do right by you—and to have you do right by yourself.”
Then he blinked, and the shimmer of sorrow disappeared, replaced by the resolution of a man who held her life and freedom—and that of countless others—in his hands.
“I take it the Farthing is no more,” he said.
She nodded.
“Good. Your maid told me as much.”
“Pleasedon’t punish her,” Portia said.
“Her punishment will be to tend to you for as long as you see fit, knowing that by her complicity, she placed your life at risk—something she values almost as much as I. Each day she watches you in the mirror, or dresses you, or styles your hair… Each dayshe tends to you at night, comforts you in moments of distress or acts as your confidante, she will be reminded of the mistress she cares for—the mistress who could so easily have departed this earth today.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ve lost a mother and a father—we both have. I have no wish to lose my beloved sister as well.” Then he smiled. “But, at least, the burden of ensuring that you do not place yourself in further danger will be shared. I have some good news for you. Colonel Reid’s card came this morning. He sent a message expressing his eagerness to call on me, though I’ll wager it’s notmehe wishes to see. I took the liberty of issuing an invitation for tea.”
Her heart soared with relief.
“So, like you, he doesn’t mind what I’ve done? Or…who I was?”
