Page 59 of The Duelist for the Ton
Portia opened her mouth to call out, then spotted the pound notes on the dressing table. Just as she reached for them, the door opened.
“Reeve, have I not told you before it’s most improper to open the door without—”
“I’m sure you have, sister.”
She turned, her heart fluttering with apprehension. Her brother stood in the doorway, a cup in his hand, from which wisps of steam rose.
“For you, I believe,” he said, holding it up.
She rose, shifting position to conceal the notes, and reached behind her back to pick them up. He arched an eyebrow and lowered his gaze to her hand.
“What’s that you have there?”
“Nothing of any concern, Adam.”
He stepped inside the chamber. “I know that look,” he said.
“What look?”
“That determined look in your eyes. You’ve been up to mischief.”
“Everything I do counts as mischief in your eyes.”
He let out a sigh. “Where have you been?”
“Nowhere.”
“Reeve caught you on the back stairs with that maid of yours.”
“I-I wanted a cup of hot chocolate, so we were on our way to the kitchen.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Reeve caught you goingupthe stairs, not down. And he saw you both coming in via the back entrance.”
Oh, Lord…
“So,” he said, stepping closer, his huge, powerful frame seeming to fill the room, “I’ll ask again—where have you been?”
“Have you employed that cockroach of a butler to spy on me?” she said. But while the actions of the Farthing might intimidate her brother, the actions of a sister over whom he knew he held ultimate power did little to even dent his dominance.
“Do I have reason to?” he said. Then he glanced at the dressing table, and understanding flickered in his cold expression. “Ah, my sister has been creeping about outside like a thief, carrying a pile of money with her. A woman’s place—especially a woman of your rank—is in the home.”
“What, behind, or perhaps beneath, the man who owns me?”
“Don’t be crude,” he said. “It doesn’t take a fool to work out where you’ve been.”
“Giving favors to sailors at the docks?” she sneered, unable to disguise the tremor in her voice. “Is that what Reeve told you when he gave an account of my whereabouts? There’s good money in it. In fact—”
She broke off as he caught her arm and pulled her hard against him. He tightened his grip, and she groaned in pain.
“Don’t be a fool,” he snarled. “I know exactly what you’ve been doing. Did you really think you could foolme?”
Sweet heaven!He’d recognized her in the park.
“Let me go!” she cried.
“Not until I have satisfaction,” he said. “I see I’ve been too lenient with you, letting you run wild. I knew it would come to this—but you, with your whining and cajoling, sought to persuade me to give you every concession. Do you want to drag our good name into the gutter?”
She shook her head.
