Chapter Thirteen #3
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m failing you.” He gestured to the cup. “Drink your chocolate. I take it the money you’re attempting to conceal is for that McIver fellow? You know Dr. Lucas thinks him a charlatan.”
“It’s Dr. Lucas who’s the charlatan,” Portia said. “Even his daughter thinks so.”
“Dear Lord, you’re not associating yourself with a doctor’s daughter?”
“Miss Lucas volunteers at the hospital. She and I have assisted Dr. McIver on many procedures—not least Captain Broom’s wound when it got infected after Dr. Lucas failed to treat it properly.”
“Spare me the details of wounded soldiers, Portia. It’s bad enough to have to associate oneself with them at all, let alone go out of one’s way to visit them in the sickbed.”
“Do you vilify the militia because you see in them the courageous man you wish to be thought of?”
He let out a sigh. “I’m not in the mood to spar with you tonight. I’ve had a trying evening.”
“Did Mrs. Scarlet not give satisfaction?”
“If you must know, I was ingratiating that fool Francis, who was ill-minded enough to challenge Sir Heath Moss to a duel, knowing full well that blackguard would turn up.”
“What blackguard?”
“That Farthing fellow. So perhaps you understand now why I’ve no wish to see you wandering about the streets. What if the Farthing accosted you?”
“I’m sure he doesn’t go about shooting everyone he meets.”
“How would you know? Are you acquainted with him?”
He tilted his head to one side and focused his pale blue gaze on her.
Heavens, why can I not keep my mouth shut?
At length, he shook his head. “I’d suggest the Farthing was Colonel Reid, but he seems too fearful of weapons—unless that’s a ruse, of course.”
“No,” she said. “He dislikes guns. His view is that weapons should be used only when necessary, and restricted to the militia. The notion of shooting at another man abhors him.”
“A little lily-livered for a soldier. I take it he’s not averse to shooting game?”
“He dislikes any form of shooting.”
He let out a snort. “It’s a wonder he survived Waterloo—unless, of course, he’s stretching the truth about his escapades on the battlefield. Perhaps he hid on the sidelines, shivering like a coward while his friends risked their lives.”
She drew her arm back and struck his cheek.
Stinging pain exploded in her palm with the force of the blow, and he staggered back, knocking into the dressing table.
The cup rattled in its saucer before tipping over and falling onto the floor, shattering into shards, splashing hot brown liquid over the carpet.
He rubbed his cheek, a smile curving his lips.
“You’re a wildcat when defending your lover, are you not? Ought I to call him out?”
“He’s not my…”
She paused as the memory of Stephen’s kiss filled her senses—the scent of masculine spices, the soft sweep of his tongue, and the delicious warmth that had spread into her bones, settling in her center, that wicked, secret place she dared not touch.
“I’m only defending a man whose courage you seek to impugn.”
“You should take as much care with your honor, Portia.” Adam gestured to Nerissa. “You, fetch something to clear up the mess.” Portia frowned, and he sighed. “Clear up the mess, please.”
Nerissa glanced at Portia.
“It’s all right,” Portia said. “My brother won’t dismiss you—will you, Adam?”
He shook his head, and Nerissa exited the bedchamber. Then he stopped to pick up the shards.
“I suppose I’m partially to blame,” he said, setting the pieces on the table.
“Careful, Adam, that came dangerously close to an apology.”
“Perhaps there’s hope for me yet.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
He let out a laugh and patted her cheek. She flinched, and a flicker of pain shone in his eyes.
“You think I’d strike you back?” he said.
“No matter how badly you behave, I’d never hurt you, Portia.
I only act out of wanting what’s best for you.
” He smiled. “I almost envy the man who wins you—he may be beset with many trials, but boredom won’t be one of them.
If this soldier fellow is the one you’ve set your cap at, then I’ll not object. Ought I to speak to him?”
Portia shook her head. “The last thing I want is you interfering.”
“He’ll feel the end of my sword if he does anything to dishonor you.”
“He’s done nothing to dishonor me, Adam. I don’t even know if he likes me, at least enough to—”
She broke off, her cheeks warming at the direction of her thoughts.
“I suppose there’s worse men to be had,” Adam said. “He keeps himself to himself. I can’t recall ever seeing him at White’s.”
“That’s something to recommend him, is it not?”
“I find it hard to trust a man incapable of holding his liquor.”
“But you don’t go to White’s merely to drink brandy, do you?” she said. “You go to escape the tyranny of female company and boast about your conquests to your fellow men.”
He let out a laugh. “Surely you wouldn’t deny me sanctuary from the rest of the world?”
“I would deny you nothing, brother, as long as you do not bring others, or yourself, to harm.”
“Then we are of one mind, sister, for that is what I desire for you.”
She turned to the dressing mirror and began brushing her hair.
“Perhaps I should give you some respite from your overbearing old brother,” he said, an undercurrent of sadness in his voice. “Please assure your maid—”
“Nerissa.”
“Yes, Nerissa. Please assure her that her position is safe.” He glanced at the notes in her hand. “Would you like me to pass that to Dr. McIver?”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Yes, really. If you wish to help the hospital, then I’ve no wish to stop you.”
She opened her mouth to respond, and he held up his hand.
“I shan’t waver in my resolve to forbid you from visiting the hospital at night, but I’ll not object to your visiting in the day, provided you take a footman with you. I’m sure James would oblige.”
“You mean Charles?”
“James, Charles—it’s all the same to me.”
“I daresay it is.”
“Very well,” he said. “Will you be joining me for supper later, or retiring?”
“Are you not visiting Mrs. Scarlet tonight?”
“I prefer the company of my sister.”
“Is that because you can bully me, whereas Mrs. Scarlet is free to leave if she tires of you?”
“No, Portia,” he said. “Mrs. Scarlet, and her like, will always return when I open my purse. But as for my beloved sister, when you leave, you will never return. Which is as it should be. A wife has a duty to her husband as a sister has to her brother. But it is the brother who must yield in the end, and I therefore wish to enjoy the time we have left before you are no longer in my life. As you must defer to your husband, so must I.”
He placed a kiss on her forehead, then opened the door, almost colliding with Nerissa in the doorway.
“Take good care of your mistress,” he said. Nerissa bobbed a curtsey, then entered the chamber.
“That was close, your ladyship,” she said, placing a cloth on the stain.
“Yes, you almost collided, but he’s assured me you’ll not be dismissed. And besides, I’d never let him.”
“No, I mean in the park,” Nerissa said. “I thought His Grace had recognized you. There will come a time when your luck will expire—and then, I fear, so will you. Perhaps it’s time to hang up the Farthing’s cloak for good.”
“How can I help Dr. McIver if I were to do that?”
“Dr. McIver has many benefactors. He’ll not think any less of you if you cannot contribute as much as you did before. And I’m sure His Grace would increase your allowance if you asked him. He’s a kinder man than most, despite how he appears. He just likes to hide it behind all that sternness.”
“Perhaps.”
“And besides…” Nerissa paused and looked away.
“Besides what?”
“You may not be able to help Dr. McIver as much if the Farthing ceases to exist. But it’s better than the alternative.”
“Which is?”
“You’ll not be able to help him at all if your dueling gets you killed.”
Portia shivered at the memory of the previous duel, when the bullet whistled past her ear. An inch or two to the right and…
No. Do not think about it.
“Perhaps you’re right.” Portia sighed, staring at her reflection. “Once I come into my fortune, I’ll have no need to earn it.”
“Provided you have an obliging husband.”
“Then I must ensure I marry an obliging man.” Portia placed her fingertips on her lips, where Stephen had kissed them. “Very well,” she said. “I promise that on my marriage, the Farthing will cease to exist.”
“And if you don’t find a husband?”
“I promise that once the Season is over, the Farthing will be no more. Lady Portia will restrict her activities to archery.”
Nerissa placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You swear?”
Portia placed her hand over her maid’s and squeezed it. “To please you, I swear.”
The maid nodded and smiled. Then she picked up the hairbrush. “Shall I fix your hair for supper, Lady Portia?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I’m sure your brother would appreciate your company tonight. He loves you as much as I—more so, even, for he’s prepared to treat you harshly to express his love, whereas I—”
“Whereas you cannot, for fear of dismissal?” Portia smiled at her maid. “Nerissa, promise never to leave me. I fear I shan’t survive without you taking care of me.”
Nerissa’s smile disappeared. For a moment, a spark of fear glowed in her dark eyes, then she blinked and nodded. “You must also promise not to leave me, Lady Portia.”
For a moment, they stared at each other in the mirror, then Nerissa’s smile resumed.
“How about some pearls?” she said brightly. “They’ll set off the color of your dress delightfully.”
Portia nodded, and they settled into a companionable silence while she watched Nerissa’s nimble fingers fashion her hair into curls then pin them into place.
I wish to enjoy the time we have left before you are no longer in my life.
As her brother’s voice echoed in her mind, a cold hand slid across her heart. What if his words were not a reference to the possibility of her marriage…
…but a death knell?