Page 83 of The Music of Love

“My father has a hunting cottage between Thurlstone and Plymouth. It is where I first met Lord Pendleton.”

“I wouldn’t call it a cottage,” Robert said as both he and Stacy came to join the conversation. He smiled at Portia and sat beside her. “The duke’s hunting lodge is quite commodious.”

The viscountess gave her husband the same coldly amused look she seemed to bestow on everyone. “Pendleton stays with my brothers and father every year for a few weeks, hunting and also spending some time in Plymouth. You rather enjoy Plymouth, don’t you, my lord?”

The question was for her husband but her eyes were on Stacy.

Stacy’s eyes were . . .well, Portia could not see what he was looking at.

Pendleton gave his wife a formal smile that did not reach his eyes. “I’ve had some of the best times of my life there.”

An awkward silence filled the room while the two spouses held each other’s gaze.

Just what is going on?

Robert turned to Portia and broke the spell. “I’m going to steal your husband for a few moments, if you do not mind?”

Portia looked from his smiling face to Stacy’s unreadable one. “As long as you bring him back, my lord.”

Harrington chuckled and even Stacy’s mouth twitched.

“There is some resemblance between them, is there not?” The viscountess asked as they watched the men depart.

“That is to be expected. They are brothers, after all,” Frances said sharply, indicating what Portia had already guessed: that there was no love lost between the two women. Frances turned to Portia with a look that seemed all the more affectionate in contrast. “You must be exhausted, Portia. Would like to rest before dinner?”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Come, my dear, let’s get you to your chambers.” Frances took her arm. “You will soon find your way,” she promised as she led her up a particularly grand staircase Portia had no recollection of using before. “I daresay it is you who persuaded Stacy to come.”

“No, he was eager to meet his family and I believe he feels your absence keenly.” Portia squeezed Frances’s hand. “Everyone misses you. I’m afraid managing a household is not one of my skills. I dearly miss you in that regard as well as others.”

Frances flushed at the compliment and then stopped in front of a door Portia didn’t recognize. “Well, here you are, my dear. Get some rest and I shall see you at dinner.”

Daisy was busy in the large dressing room when Portia entered.

“Where have they put you?”

“I couldn’t say, ma’am. I doubt I’ll ever find my room again. Powell brought me here. Without him I would have wandered for days.”

Portia collapsed on the bed without even removing her slippers.

“I’m so tired I’m afraid I might sleep through dinner.”

Daisy removed her shoes, lifted her legs onto the bed and pulled a blanket up over her. “Don’t you worry, ma’am. I’ll wake you in time.”

Portia closed her eyes and within seconds the dream started.

It began the same way it always did. She was on the cliff in front of Nanny Kemble’s cottage, running and getting nowhere. The sky was dark with rain and her gown was soaked and whipped by the wind. She was looking west and there was Ivo, silhouetted against the sea. She tried to run toward him but her body refused to move. He was standing too close to the edge and she tried to warn him but the wind tore away her words.

Ivo stared at something over her shoulder and shook his head. His large brown eyes were sad and held compassion, a look she’d not seen in them since her father died.

Portia remembered Ivo was already dead and she could not save him. But he had to leave; he had to go back where he belonged. She tried to scream when he took a step into thin air and disappeared over the edge. Only when he was gone could she make a sound.

“No!” Her eyes flew open and she lurched upright. She blinked rapidly, her vision blurry; she wasn’t on a cliff watching Ivo die, she was in her bed, in Thurlstone Castle.

And she was alone.

Chapter Twenty-Three