Page 89 of The Duelist for the Ton
“Are you certain? You sound a little pained.”
Only the woman feels pain the first time—but afterward, there will be no pain…
She squeezed her legs together, and her cheeks warmed with shame at the soreness between them—the memory of last night…
…the image of his head between her thighs while he delivered the most exquisite pleasure…
Oh!
“Lady Portia?” Nerissa’s concerned face swam into view. “Perhaps you’d prefer to sleep a little longer before I dress you? It’s early yet, and I’m sure the duchess will take no offense if you arrive for breakfast a little late.”
Tomorrow at breakfast, I shall announce to the party that we are to wed…
Her heart soaring with joy, Portia pulled back the covers.
“No, Nerissa, I mustn’t be late for breakfast.”
“The duchess won’t mind,” Nerissa said, retrieving a pair of stockings from Portia’s trunk. “She’s ever so kind. Did you know that she insisted on the guests’ maids and valets having a special dinner last night? And she came to visit us while we were eating. She said that there was no reason not to treat us as her guests. She’s not at all what I expected of her. But then, perhaps you know that yourself if you’re her friend.”
Nerissa rattled on, extolling Eleanor’s virtues while Portia approached the dressing table. Then she stopped and let out a cry.
“Oh, Lady Portia! Forgive me. I didn’t bring any cloths for you.”
“Why should you?” Portia said. “It’s not my…” Her voice trailed away as she lowered her gaze to her nightgown—and the patch of red staining the fabric.
“Have you injured yourself?” Nerissa asked, reaching for Portia’s nightgown. “Perhaps yesterday, or last night, or…”
She hesitated, then lifted her gaze, and Portia felt her cheeks warm with shame as a flicker of understanding shone in her maid’s eyes.
“L-Lady Portia?”
“Colonel Reid and I are engaged,” Portia said, flinching as she braced herself for her maid’s censure.
“A-and you…”
Portia bit her lip.
“Did he…?” Nerissa colored and gestured toward Portia’s nightgown.
“He visited me last night.”
The maid frowned. “It’s not my place to say such things, but I’m disappointed in him—compromising you while you’re guests of the duchess.”
“I was willing,” Portia said. “H-he only came to ask me to marry him…b-but I asked him to stay. He’s going to announce our engagement today. So you see, I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Of course not—youcould never do wrong. But you wouldn’t want everyone here to…” Nerissa tilted her head to one side. “I’ll see to your nightgown, so nobody need know.”
“Y-you won’t tell my brother?”
“Not if the colonel does right by you, Lady Portia,” Nerissa replied with a grin. “But if he does not, I’ll see to him myself. After all, the Farthing isn’t the only marksman capable of teaching a dishonorable man a lesson. Gerard can wield a pistol almost as well.”
“The colonel is a man of honor,” Portia said.
“Then let him prove his worth at breakfast.”
Portia stood obediently while her maid removed the nightgown, folded it, and tucked it into the bottom of the trunk, only feeling a moment’s shame when Nerissa helped her to wash, removing the smear on her mistress’s legs with her usualsoothing touch, remarking in a soft voice that a woman only bled the first time.
By the time Portia stepped out of the bedchamber in a fresh gown, her hair fashioned into a neat chignon and dotted with daisies, her apprehension had faded.
