Page 125 of The Duelist for the Ton
“Oh, my love!” she cried. “What has she done to you?”
Footsteps approached while she sobbed.
“Iknewit!” her brother said, his voice dark with anger. “This cannot be borne.”
“No, Adam,” Portia said, “it cannot. I insist you dismiss Mrs. Leaney immediately.”
“We’ve already discussed this,” he said, “and I’ll not discuss it further. You promised to let the child be after your confinement.” He folded his arms. “I only agreed that we should remain here until you recovered from your confinement. I knew I should have sent the child on—I bloodyknewit!”
“She’s notthe child, Adam,” Portia said, her voice cracking. “She’s your niece—my daughter.”
He sighed. “I understand your distress, I really do, but this behavior is not in your, or the child’s, interests.”
“I’ll tell you what’s not in my child’s interests, Adam,” Portia said, pulling down the blanket. “Can you see what your pious Mrs. Leaney has been doing? My child is not some brat she can abuse. Do you want me to hand her over to those who would harm her?”
“The Bensons are good people,” he said. “And loyal—they’ve farmed on Forthridge land for generations. And they have wanted a child for years. Would you deny them that?”
“As you are denying me?”
“I thought you’d agreed to this.”
The child in her arms let out a satisfied grunt, and Portia caught her breath at the rush of love, the urge to protect the little creature who called to her soul.
“May I not change my mind, Adam?”
“Of course, provided you’re fully aware of the consequences.”
“Many women have children.”
“Not in your circumstances,” he said. “What will you do, Portia, if you keep the child?”
“She has aname.”
He let out a sharp sigh. “She has no name in the eyes of the world in which we live.”
“Then the world is wrong.”
“Perhaps, but we cannot change the world,” he said. “All we can do is change it for those we care about. And believe it or not, I care about you. And”—he gestured to the baby in her arms—“the child.”
“Mychild,” Portia said, “who needs her mother.”
The baby stirred, and Portia cradled her head, rocking to and fro until she quietened once more.
“She knows her mother.”
“Don’t be a fool,” he said. “Babies lack the wit to know one person from another. They rely on instinct rather than rational thought.”
“Her instinct tells her that she’s safe with me,” she said. “Unlike with Mrs. Leaney.”
“I can dismiss Mrs. Leaney, but does that not give credence to what I’ve said all along?”
He stepped closer, and she retreated, tightening her hold on her daughter.
“An unmarried woman with a child will be vilified wherever she goes,” he said.
“Then I’ll go where nobody knows who we are.”
“To live in obscurity?” he said. “Among strangers, masquerading as a widow, arousing suspicion, living in fear of your secret coming out until one day it does, and you’re forced to move on again?”
