Page 109 of The Music of Love

She sighed and raised her eyebrows, not bothering to hide her irritation. “What?”

He squeezed her hand so hard it hurt. “You keep that son of mine in hand, do you hear?”

Portia pursed her lips in irritation, not sure what he meant or what she was supposed to say.

He saw her perplexed look and laughed. “Don’t you fret about whores, missy, he’s a man, goddammit. Men have needs.” He let out another bark of humorless laughter and his eyes dropped to her slightly protruding midriff. “You just hold his interest enough to make sure he mounts you regularly—not like my heir.” He spat the word; his grip unbreakable. “Just concentrate on giving me a few grandsons and you’ll be amply rewarded.” He released her hand and turned to his waiting servant. “What the devil are you gawking at, you fool? Get me to my room. I’ve had my fill of foppery.”

The muscular servant lifted the fragile old man from the chair and began the long journey to the earl’s chambers. A footman followed, carrying the wheeled chair. Portia watched them until they disappeared up the stairs.

She looked through the doors into the ballroom and saw the floor was full of dancers. Nobody was paying her any mind and now was a perfect time to escape to her room. Unfortunately, she needed to find the necessary and use it first.

The retiring room was overflowing with women repairing loose curls, torn hems, and a variety of other sartorial disasters. There was a wait, but Portia did not think she would make it all the way back to her room—if she could actually find it. It took far longer than she hoped—not to complete her business, but to get away from at least two dozen nosey women, all of whom wanted to have a chat with her—before she could escape.

Her chambers lay in the west wing, which could only be reached by going to the great hall and taking a smaller set of stairs. Her feet were heavy and it was an effort to walk.

And five minutes later she realized she was lost.

Portia stood in the middle of the dimly lighted hallway and considered curling up in the nearest corner and going to sleep.

“Mrs. Harrington?”

She screamed and whirled around.

“I’m so sorry to have startled you,” the viscountess said.

Portia gaped at her sister-in-law, her hands fisted at her sides. “What are you doing?” she demanded, even though she knew it was beyond rude to interrogate the woman in her own house.

Rowena’s smile was not her usual supercilious sneer. “I was looking for you, actually.” She bit her lower lip in an uncharacteristic display of agitation.

“What is it?”

Rowena looked away. “I daresay you will not thank me for this. . . but—” She grimaced and her face twisted in misery, almost as if she were fighting tears. “I overheard your husband and Mrs. Charring—they have arranged a . . .a meeting of sorts for tonight.”

Portia could only stare; of all the people to know about the relationship between Stacy and Kitty, why did this woman have to be the one?

She crossed her arms. “I already know about them, my lady. What do you want me to do about it?”

Rowena opened her mouth, paused, and then took Portia’s arm. “Come with me.” She led Portia back up the stairs, turning right instead of left at the top. She stopped in front of massive double doors Portia knew led to an enormous library at least five times the size of the one at Whitethorn.

Portia pulled her arm from the other woman’s grasp. “They’re in there?”

“No, but I know where they are going.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this why you invited Katherine Charring to this party?” Portia demanded.

Rowena’s eyes widened. “But I didn’t—I never met her before today.”

Portia stared. “If you didn’t, who did?”

The viscountess opened her mouth, and then closed it.

“Who?”

“I’m afraid it was the earl.”

“The earl? Why would he do such a thing?” Especially after telling me I’d better keep breeding, she thought, but did not say.

Rowena took a deep breath, released it, and then took another, as if she needed to fortify herself. “This is exactly the kind of thing he enjoys, watching people tear each other apart.”