Page 26 of The Duelist for the Ton
She could have weathered Sir Ambrose’s insipid company for a dance, but it was more prudent not to dance with the man with whom she’d undertaken a business transaction only a few nights before. He lacked the wit to recognize her—and, like all men who believed themselves the superior sex, he’d never consider the notion that the Farthing was awoman. But all astute businessmen—orbusinesswomen—avoided unnecessary risks.
Let him dance with Lady Manby-Bresswell.
But the lady in question was already partnered with Sir Heath Moss, under the watchful eye of the lady’s husband.
Good.It might present another business opportunity for the Farthing if Sir Baldwin saw fit to call Sir Heath out. Beneath the veneer of arrogance, Sir Heath was a coward and a notoriously poor shot—which made him the perfect client.
The couples lined up, and Portia’s heart soared to see dear Mimi at the head of the line with her husband, the Duke of Sawbridge. Nobody in the room, not even the snobbish Miss Peacock, would daresay anything untoward about Mimi’s reputation. It was the benefit of being a duchess, and no matter how much Portia despised Society’s obsession with rank, thatvery same obsession saved her dear friend from ridicule and censure.
Colonel Reid stiffened, tightening his grip on Portia’s hand. She glanced up to see him staring at a couple placed further down the line—Earl Staines and his wife, formerly Juliette Howard.
She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “There’s naught to be ashamed of, colonel,” she said. “You’re a man, and like all men, rejection and refusal is the price you pay for having the power of choice.”
“The power of choice?” he asked as the dance began.
She took his hand and stepped forward in time to the music. “When it comes to anything—dancing or matrimony—my sex is required to wait to be asked,” she said. “Your sex has the freedom of choice to ask, or more oftendemand, whatever you wish—a commission in the army, a dance partner, a wife, or a business opportunity. You may make your wishes and desires known at any time and Society will applaud you for it, whereas we are required to keep silent until the final moment, where we are only given two responses to choose from—yes or no.”
“Do not underestimate the freedom to say ‘no,’ Lady Portia.”
The despondency in his voice pricked at her heart, and she caught sight of Lady Staines dancing, of the adoration in her eyes as she gazed at her husband.
“Did you love her very much, colonel?” Portia couldn’t help asking.
Colonel Reid frowned.
“Forgive me,” she said. “My brother’s always admonishing me for speaking out of turn.”
He caught her hand, and they moved in a figure-of-eight motion to the music. “You’re an accomplished dancer, Lady Portia,” he said.
“You needn’t divert my question with flattery, colonel,” she replied. “You have my permission to refuse to answer my question. As you put it so eloquently, do not underestimate the power of refusal.”
“It’s not flattery when I speak the truth, Lady Portia. Did I not say that I despise deception and those who perpetuate it?”
She flinched inwardly at the undercurrent of loathing in his voice when her brother had mentioned the Farthing. Trust Adam to say the wrong thing at the wrong moment! Though, of course, Adam had no knowledge of her clandestine business activities…or so she hoped.
No—if her brother knew, he’d keep her under lock and key at all hours of the day, only permitting her out on a leash to be paraded around the Marriage Mart.
“Lady Portia? You seem distracted,” her partner said. “In answer to your question: yes, I believed myself very much in love with Miss Howard—Lady Staines, as she is now. But I was merely blinded by her beauty. I am resolved never to trust a beautiful woman again. With beauty comes a lack of compassion.”
“And is that how you classify the women of your acquaintance, colonel, in terms of whether they are beautiful or not? And, by extension, you conclude that beauty and compassion are mutually exclusive?”
“Forgive me, Lady Portia. I did not meanyou.”
Anger flared in the pit of her stomach. Though his suffering on account of his experiences at Waterloo should elicit compassion, his view of her sex was not to be borne.
“I thought you said you did not stoop to flattery,” she said, not bothering to disguise her irritation. “Perhaps my friend broke off your engagement because of your insincerity.”
Regret needled at her as hurt glimmered in his eyes. Not half an hour earlier he had been gripped by the nightmares of war, and here she was now, criticizing his gallantry toward her.
Perhaps Adam was right when he said she was too prickly a creature to reside in a man’s heart.
Not that her brother knew anything of hearts.
The dance concluded, and Colonel Reid offered his arm to escort Portia to the edge of the ballroom, steering them toward their host and hostess.
“Countess Thorpe,” Portia said. “Dear Henrietta—a most delightful evening.”
“Lady Portia,” the countess said, dipping her head in greeting, “I was most upset to see you not dancing earlier when there were so many gentlemen unpartnered, but I applaud your choice of partner this time. Colonel Reid’s talents on the dance floor are renowned, are they not, colonel?”
