Page 28 of The Duelist for the Ton
To his credit, he blushed. “You weren’t meant to overhear that.”
“Youdosurprise me,” she said, smiling. “I trust you’ll make sure your sister does not overhear when you’re criticizing our sex. You wouldn’t want her to be influenced by such sentiment.”
“Which is why I have engaged a chaperone to care for her—that, and for her safety.”
“Has she no female relatives to chaperone her?”
“None, other than my brother’s wife, but she’s much occupied at the family seat in the country. Angela has no mother or sister to care for her.” He let out a sigh. “The appointment’s out of necessity more than choice. I dislike the notion of a woman compelled to earn a living.”
Pompous fool!
“What nonsense!” Portia said. “A woman should be permitted to make her own way in life as much as a man, and not all women are compelled to earn a living—some of us do by choice.”
“Surelyyou’renot engaged in commerce, Lady Portia?”
Her stomach twisted in apprehension. “N-no, of course not.”
“Commerce is aman’sworld,” he said.
“There are plenty of women earning a living in the City.”
“Not women of your station. I wouldn’t want my sister to earn her living. In that, I’m in agreement with your brother.”
Portia caught sight of her brother at the far end of the ballroom, striding across the floor with all the insufferable arrogance of the superior male, turning the head of every unattached female—and most of the attached. It was as if he cast a spell that caused women to lose all reason and rationality.
Were he not so overbearing, Portia might have pitied him. But, as with all men, the unwanted attention of the opposite sex did not pose any danger to his person or his reputation.
“There she is,” Colonel Reid said.
He gestured toward a lone woman sitting in the corner, her gown a shade of blue that could only be describe assomber. She wore no jewelry save a brooch in the center of her neckline. Her hair, a rich, dark chestnut with streaks of gray, was scraped back into an unflattering matriarchal style. She sat, back stiff, a folded shawl on her lap, gazing out toward the center of the ballroom, but as Portia’s brother passed, the woman startled and her wide, expressive eyes focused on him. Portia caught a flicker ofyearning, but unlike the hunger seen in the other female guests, her expression carried an undertone of despair.
Despite the crowd in the ballroom, Portia had never seen anyone who looked so utterlyalone.
“That’s Mrs. Stowe,” the colonel said, “whom I’ve engaged to chaperone my sister.”
“She doesn’t seem to be enjoying herself.”
“That’s the price a woman pays for her independence.”
“It’s a price that Society imposes on her, colonel,” Portia said. “Why is nobody talking to her? It’s as if she doesn’t exist. The world is not going to descend into anarchy if a woman earning a living is accepted into Society.”
He steered Portia toward the woman, and she lifted her head in recognition, then rose to her feet and dipped into a curtsey.
“Colonel Reid,” she said, her voice a rich alto. “Is your sister here tonight? Forgive me, I thought her first social engagement was next week.”
“It is, Mrs. Stowe,” he replied. “I am alone tonight.”
She settled her gaze on Portia.
“May I introduce you to Lady Portia Hawke?” Colonel Reid said. “Lady Portia, this is Mrs. Stowe.”
Portia offered her hand, and Mrs. Stowe curtseyed once more. “Delighted,” she said. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”
“I don’t think I’ve had that pleasure, ma’am,” Portia said. “But perhaps you know my brother? He’s the Duke of Foxton.”
Mrs. Stowe’s eyes widened. “Oh…yes, of course.Hawke. I-I’m aware of His Grace, but we’ve not been introduced.”
“Then let me—” Portia began.
