The question lingered in the air a moment.
I won’t have to worry about falling in love. That was what he’d said yesterday.
Portia wished she could go back to bed, pull the covers over her head, and forget those words.
“No, he isn’t,” she said to her mother.
“Interesting. He’s called on you several times since yesterday. He’s been most anxious to see you.”
“He has?” Portia said, her traitorous heart almost singing with the possibility that Harry cared.
Or was he calling because of guilt?
For all his faults, he was an honorable man. He certainly felt duty bound to marry her, but Portia didn’t want to be a duty. Her love for him was such that she’d rather live without him than be a mere obligation.
Or be the cause of his death.
“Does that not move you?” her mother asked.
Portia shook her head as she studied the grain of the wood on the floor.
“People here have long memories. They will not forget,” her mother warned.
She was saying that Portia was ruined. Forevermore when they talked of her, they would bring up the story of her foolish affair with a man most definitely above her touch.
Her mother sighed. “Well, so be it. Alastair has assured me you will always have a place under his roof.”
Now she had Portia’s attention. “You are moving?”
“I must if I marry him.”
“Why can’t we all live here?” Camber Hall was home to her.
“I don’t like this drafty place overmuch,” Lady Maclean said. “The house Alastair is living in is better suited to servants and the stable is larger.”
“You never cared about the stable before,” Portia said.
“Oh yes, I did. I want a coach and team. Alastair has promised to give them to me as a wedding present.”
And her mother would be the grand lady she’d always wished to be. “Are you just marrying him for security?” Portia asked.
“A bit.” Her mother smiled at her. “It will be nice. But I’ve grown fond of Alastair. He’s not handsome. And certainly he is not as dashing as your father was. However, I find his looks are growing on me. Furthermore, it is nice to be adored.”
Yes, it would be. “I’m so happy for you, Mother.” Portia meant those words. “You are going to be at peace with all of his dogs?”
“Alastair and I will reach a compromise. I told him no dogs in the dining room and the bedroom and he thought that acceptable. To be honest, that beast Jasper is rather sweet. The wedding will be in February. I thought it best we settle Minerva and Oliver first.”
“That’s wise.” And Portia would be alone.
Portia shook her head to clear it. She was sinking into self-pity, a trait she did not admire. She must be practical. Soon, she would be thinking for a child as well.
“I don’t know how Owl will like living with all those dogs.”
Her mother’s brows came together. “Owl?”
“She’s a cat I found, Mother,” Portia confessed. “I’ve been hiding her from you.”
Lady Maclean started to speak and then stopped as if she thought better of it before plowing ahead. “Portia, Minnie told me about your ‘cat’ many weeks ago. Please, you must no longer talk about Owl.”
