Page 116 of Too Good to Be True

Portia’s face turned red.

I sipped Amaretto.

Suddenly, her attention came to me, and she watched with bizarre intensity as I swallowed the almond liqueur.

“What’s your space?” she whispered in an ugly voice.

I didn’t get the chance to answer.

Ian did it for me.

“I’m particularly fond of the time she spends in the Hawthorn Suite.”

Portia looked like her head was going to explode, so I shifted my efforts from trying not to lay her out to trying not to laugh.

“Fuck it. Fuck this. It’s been a shitty day. I’m going to get drunk,” she declared, turned and flounced out.

Daniel, either being a decent person behind the seemingly clueless puppy dog he’d been since I met him, or having learned that day I held power and it’d serve him well to curry my favor, looked to me and said, “I’m really sorry about Lou, Daphne. That’s terrible news.”

“Thanks, Daniel,” I replied. “But according to her, although it’s going to get hairy, she’ll be okay.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he muttered.

Ian, demonstrating he had a soft spot for his brother, or perhaps being like me and capitalizing on the rare times Daniel wasn’t acting like an asshole, offered, “Would you like to have a drink with us?”

“I should probably make sure Portia’s okay,” Daniel said. “She doesn’t know how to act when she’s feeling too much.”

“Sadly, I’ve noticed that,” Ian returned. “Though it appears she feels too much on a constant basis.”

Daniel gave him a look I couldn’t decipher, though I was mildly surprised to note it wasn’t unpleasant, before he nodded to his brother, dipped his chin to me and took off.

Ian folded back into the couch.

“Is that true about the space?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

“You picked the best spots, though this is kinda creepy, especially at night.”

“The better to have the damsels I lure here cowering in my arms.”

I shot him a smile and relaxed deeper into the couch.

Ian shifted to one hip, lazily hooked one knee over the other and reached out to wrap an arm around mine and draw them up to the couch so I was curled into a cocoon of Ian.

It was a smooth as hell move.

I loved it.

I was also a lot more comfortable this way.

He then said, “There was a debutante named Adelaide. She was sheer perfection. Her coming-out season, a triumph. It was rumored the Prince Regent himself was enamored of her, and if it wasn’t for his pesky marriage to Caroline, he’d have fallen over himself, royally of course, to offer for her hand. However, it’s likely this would have been rebuked because everyone said the moment she laid eyes on Augustus Alcott, she was lost. This being good for her, because Augustus told his mates he would stop at nothing to have her. He didn’t have to make any grand gestures. He offered, and she and her family didn’t hesitate to say yes.”

“And?” I asked to urge him to continue telling his story.

I loved story time with Ian. Yes, even when the stories were scary.

“He brought her to Duncroft, and it was some time, they were very busy at first, before her missives flooded her friends. ‘My home is the jewel of Britain,’ she said. ‘I live in a palace of dreams,’ was something else she shared. She was so proud of her new home, and Augustus proud of her, they threw balls and hunts, and everyone travelled all the way from wherever they were to this distant house to make certain they didn’t miss them. The bedrooms were filled often, and everyone spoke of how very clever Adelaide Alcott was, showing off what she called Britain’s jewel, and entertaining in rooms she had decorated in precious stones.”

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