Page 58 of The Duelist for the Ton
But while confidence might be the combatant’s ultimate weapon, complacency was his, orher, greatest danger. And the danger of her identity being revealed still lingered in the air.
She issued a bow toward Sir Heath. “A pleasure,” she said.
“Easiest fifty pounds you’ve ever earned,” came the reply.
“Stop grumbling, Moss,” Lord Francis said. “If you’d not been caught shagging my wife, there’d have been no need for this.”
“Every man and his dog knows Sir Heath is shagging your wife,” Dunton said. “Ha! Most likely every man and his dogisshagging her.”
“Perhaps,” Lord Francis said, “but it’s not the done thing to make such a public show of it.” He gestured toward Portia. “Be off with you, young fellow, before I change my mind,” he said. “Be thankful I decided to save your skin. I’d have shot you dead, you know.”
Resisting the temptation to point out his lack of prowess, Portia merely placed her hand over her heart and bowed. Then, taking Nerissa’s arm, she retreated to the park entrance. When the men were out of sight, they broke into a run.
By the time they reached the townhouse, night had fallen. Under cover of shadows, they slipped through the back entrance, their footsteps clattering on the stairs.
As Portia caught sight of the door to her bedchamber—and safety—she let out a sigh of relief.
Then a deep voice called out from behind.
“Who goes there?”
Her skin tightened in fear, but Nerissa placed a gentle hand on her arm.
“Hush, your ladyship,” she whispered. Then she called out, “Mr. Reeve? It’s just me, Nerissa.”
The butler let out a huff. “Don’t try to fool me, girl. I heard more than one set of footsteps. If you’ve been lying to me, I’ll have you horsewhipped—if you’re entertaining a man, I’ll have you horsewhipped then thrown out on the street. His Grace won’t suffer sluts in his house.” Heavy footsteps approached.
“It’s all right, Reeve,” Portia called out. “Nerissa was accompanying me on a visit.”
“At this hour?” came the reply. “Most inappropriate.”
“You forget your place,” Portia said. “I’m not answerable to you.”
“Does the master know you’ve wandering the streets at this hour?”
“Hardlywandering the streets, Reeve, and I’ll thank you not to take that tone with your mistress. Please have some hot chocolate brought to my chamber. I shall speak to my brother about you when he returns.”
For a moment, silence filled the air, then the butler let out a huff and retreated, grumbling to himself, his heavy footsteps receding on the stairs.
“Pompous arse,” Portia said. “I cannot think why my brother employs him.”
“He served your family for many years,” Nerissa said. “Your father and grandfather.”
“And his grandfather as well, I’ll wager. Perhaps it’s time he was put to pasture. Doubtless he believes we’ve been visiting the docks, giving favors to sailors.”
They slipped into Portia’s bedchamber and Nerissa placed the fifty pounds on the dressing table, then helped her out of her clothes and into a fresh gown. She folded up the Farthing’s garments and placed them at the bottom of a trunk before slipping the trunk under the bed. Then she returned to the dressing table and picked up a hairbrush.
“Come sit here, and let me fix your hair.”
“There’s no time,” Portia said. “You’d best get yourself changed first. If anyone spots you, send them to me and I’ll deal with them.”
“Even Mr. Reeve?”
“Especially Reeve,” Portia said, steering Nerissa toward her dressing room. “Quick, now!”
The maid slipped into the dressing room, closing the door behind her.
Just in time. Heavy, determined footsteps approached and stopped outside the bedchamber door, then someone knocked smartly, three times.
