Chapter Ten
Portia snapped her head back around to focus on Mr. Ogilvy in the pulpit.
What did Colonel Chattan think he was doing? He hadn’t been to services since he arrived, and he showed up this day? Portia felt her temper rise.
If he was following her around because he wanted to repeat what had happened last night, he was going to be disappointed. He’d caught her in a weak moment. That woman who had so eagerly leaped into his arms was not she. She’d had a moment of madness but she was sane, sober and remorseful today.
By the time the services had ended, Portia had worked herself into such a state, she almost couldn’t wait for a confrontation with Colonel Chattan, and then she saw Lady Emma.
Her Ladyship had realized Colonel Chattan was in the chapel, and she was not pleased that he sat close to Portia.
Minnie leaned toward Portia. “Now Lady Emma is looking daggers at you. This is very odd, Portia. She is overreacting to a bit of spilled tea.”
“Yes, it is,” Portia agreed. “Now, if you will excuse me?”
She didn’t wait for her sister’s answer but brushed by her to leave the pew before Colonel Chattan could say anything to her.
Fortunately for her, he’d brought General Montheath with him. The general used this opportunity in church to corner Lady Maclean in the aisle and was attempting to converse. In fact, he seemed insistent he converse, as if he’d been gathering his courage all night for just this moment.
Her mother blocked the aisle, making it impossible for Lady Emma to move past her, and General Montheath blocked the pew so that Colonel Chattan couldn’t leave.
Portia was free to leave and she did not dally. She fled the chapel and kept walking. Of course, Minnie had been following her and now caught up with her. “Portia, what is it? You’ve been acting peculiar.”
“Nothing is wrong. I don’t wish to linger. I want to leave as quickly as possible. I have chores.”
“It’s Sunday.”
“There is no day of rest for women.”
“Granted, but we usually spend a few moments visiting with our neighbors,” Minnie said. “Only last week you claimed this was your favorite part of the Sunday.”
“It is. Sometimes. I’m ready to go.” Portia would have plowed on, but Colonel Chattan had escaped the chapel and had come up behind her.
Her traitorous body wanted to jump into his arms.
“Good day, Miss Maclean and Miss Maclean,” he said to Portia and Minnie, as pleasant as one could be. He was obviously not racked with guilt over what had happened last night.
“How are you, Colonel?” Minnie said with great warmth.
“Very well, thank you. I believe my friend the general might be making some progress in the pursuit of your mother. I suggested he might actually muster the wherewithal to speak to her.”
Portia glanced back at the door and was surprised to see that her mother was walking out with General Montheath and seemed to be listening to what he was saying.
“I’m surprised,” Minnie admitted.
“He’s determined,” the colonel answered. He turned to Portia. “May I have a moment?”
Portia shook her head. “I’m so sorry. We are leaving.”
She would have walked off but Minnie stopped her. “Oliver is not here yet and he is the one who drove us. Don’t be in such a rush, Portia. You can talk to the colonel while I go see what is keeping Mr. Tolliver.” She didn’t wait for Portia’s protest but hurried off.
Nor did Colonel Chattan wait to tell her what he wanted. “I need to see you.”
“I don’t believe that is a good idea,” Portia whispered furiously. “Not after last night.”
“Are you all right?” He sounded anxious as if he truly cared.
Portia didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t say anything, choosing instead to study a point beyond him.
He made an impatient sound. “We can’t pretend nothing happened between us. We should discuss it.”
No, Portia definitely didn’t want to discuss it with him. She was also not comfortable talking to him in such a public place. Lady Emma came into her line of vision. The girl’s jealous eyes narrowed as she saw the two of them together, and Portia knew she was assuming the worst.
In this case, she’d be right.
Portia could feel him frown at her continued silence. “There is nothing to discuss,” she answered, and would have walked off but he stepped in her path.
“I want that book,” he said.
The book again.
“You can’t have it,” she said, annoyed and not quite understanding why. Apparently, concern for her wasn’t his primary purpose in speaking to her.
“Name your price.”
Her price?
“What price can you place on what it has already cost me?” she answered.
His expression changed. The determination in the set of his jaw softened, and in his eyes was the bleakness of regret.
And Portia wished she’d never spoken. It pricked her pride that he was sorry, because, actually, she wasn’t. She hadn’t realized that until this moment.
She began backing away, afraid of what she might reveal if she stayed there any longer. She was afraid he’d offer excuses. She didn’t know what she wanted but it wasn’t apologies.
And so she said the one thing she knew would make him leave her alone. “You can have the book.”
Colonel Chattan gave a start as if he hadn’t expected her to make the offer. “I’ll come to your house—”
“No.” She couldn’t afford to let Lady Emma confirm her suspicions. She glanced over to where the duke’s daughter stood with several of her friends. They had their heads together, and Portia knew that didn’t bode well for her.
She also couldn’t let herself fall apart and imagine things that were not true. Colonel Chattan was reputed to have made love to almost every woman who had crossed his path. To him, she was no different from the others, and she mustn’t let herself think otherwise.
Without facing the colonel, Portia said, “There is a shepherd’s bothy not far from the Great Oak. I’ll meet you there in two hours.” She walked off without waiting for his answer.
Harry watched Portia march away, her back poker straight, and didn’t know what to think. She’d dismissed him. No woman had ever dismissed him before.
They had made love last night with a passion he’d never known, and she had barely looked him in the eyes today. He’d known governesses who were more yielding than she was.
And they did need to discuss what had happened last night between them. He wanted to. He, the man who rarely discussed anything with a woman or anyone else.
“Chattan,” Monty said, rushing up to him, “I followed your suggestions and they worked!”
It took a moment for Harry to pull his thoughts away from Portia Maclean. “My suggestions?”
“I tried to be myself around Ariana,” Monty announced proudly. “I asked her a direct question and she spoke to me. We had a conversation.”
“Did she speak kindly?” Harry had to ask. Lady Maclean had spoken to Monty before but not with the sweetness of her sex.
“Yes,” Monty said as if that was quite an accomplishment.
Harry started walking to where they’d tethered their horses, and the general fell into step beside him.
“I asked her opinion about a soiree I’m having.
I told her that I desperately needed advice from an accomplished and well-respected hostess as herself.
I asked if perhaps she could give me a moment of her time, and she did. ”
“You are having a soiree?” Harry asked with disbelief. He mounted his horse.
“It’s one of those words the ladies like,” Monty said, climbing into the saddle of his own horse. “She didn’t question my use of it. Anyway, the conversation went better than I could imagine. Who knew that all I had to do was ask Ariana questions and then she’d answer me and we would be talking?”
“Monty,” Harry said, concerned for his friend, “are you certain this is the woman you want?”
“With all my heart,” Monty replied.
“Poor bugger,” Harry said under his breath. He set Ajax down the road.
“I don’t expect you to understand, Chattan. You aren’t the sort of man who knows how to love or even values it.”
This comment caught Harry’s attention. “I value love.”
“I challenge that,” Monty said with his newfound confidence. “Tell me, have you ever been constant to one woman for, let’s say, more than three weeks or even three days in your life?”
“What do you mean by ‘constant’?” Harry asked, suddenly not liking this conversation.
“I mean that you are true and faithful to her. That you would cherish her.”
“I’ve cherished many women,” Harry answered.
“One at a time, Chattan. One woman, for a long period of time, and because you valued her mind and her opinion as well as her body. I don’t believe you’ve even had a mistress.”
“I didn’t see the purpose to it,” Harry answered. “Why focus my energy on one bit of muslin when there are all these others begging for me to notice them?”
“And that is why I know you’ve never been in love,” Monty announced with a crow of satisfaction, as if he’d proven his theory correct.
“Maybe I don’t want to be in love,” Harry returned. “What good is it anyway? You’ve been miserable being in love.”
“But today, I am ecstatic,” Monty declared. “I spoke to her and she was civil. I just need to come up with a method to keep her that way.”
“Yes, you can’t have a ‘soiree’ every day.”
Monty’s pride in his accomplishment was so great, he dismissed Harry’s sarcasm with a wave.
But Harry couldn’t dismiss his friend’s criticism.
In truth, Harry was reaching the age when bachelorhood was no longer attractive.
He’d noticed that once a man closed in on five and thirty, he became overly self-indulgent, spending his time on petty things that didn’t matter like the cut of a glove or ridiculous jealousies.
Harry was only a few years away from that age.
He’d never thought that way before, but since in Glenfinnan and sober, he discovered some of his attitudes were changing.
His brother had leaped into love once he’d met his wife, Thea. He adored her with all his heart and soul, and Harry had never seen Neal happier. He’d told Harry that life now held meaning whereas before it had lacked any sense of purpose beyond duty.