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Marcus agreed.
“Then you’ll be pleased to hear, sir, that after our last meeting I made a friend in the kitchen at Grosvenor Square. Just in case.”
“Oh?”
“Amazing what a bit of bribery can do.”
“Martin, just do what you have to.”
He needed an invitation to one of the houses Portia would be visiting. He needed to be in the same room with her. He needed to look into her eyes and persuade her that continuing to enjoy each other’s company was worth any risk. What was life without an element of danger, after all?
“You could always write to her, sir,” Martin suggested.
“I did that. My letter was returned to me in the same envelope, torn to pieces.” He smiled. The ferocity of her reaction had amused and pleased him rather than disheartening him. If he meant nothing to her, she would have tossed the letter aside, not ripped it up. Beneath that cool, calm mask she was passionate and bold, and although she was playing at respectability, Marcus was convinced that in truth she was far from respectable.
Besides, he ached to have her in his arms again and he could not believe she didn’t feel the same. Denying them both was plainly ridiculous when they could be having so much fun together. She just didn’t understand that there was no point to being miserable when he was here, available.
She needed him, and he was determined to prove it to her.
Victoria had kept her late at the palace rehashing memories of Lord Ellerslie. The queen had been brought to bed with the birth of her baby, another little prince, this one called Arthur. Both mother and child were well, but Victoria was bored and longing to get back to the things that stimulated and interested her. Despite the image portrayed of her, she was not a particularly maternal woman.
While she spoke, Portia had nodded and smiled and wiped away a tear or two. Sometimes she wondered whether Victoria was a little jealous, so many of her sentences seemed to begin with “If I had been Lady Ellerslie…” There had been speculation about the queen and her prime minister, Lord Melbourne, but Portia honestly believed that had more to do with Victoria’s lack of a father than her need for a lover. Possibly, Lord Ellerslie had fulfilled a similar role in the young queen’s life.
By the time she arrived home at Grosvenor Square, Portia felt exhausted. She hadn’t been sleeping well again. Ever since she saw Marcus at the opera, she had been so tormented by regrets and wistful longings that she wondered if she was going insane.
“My lady.”
Deed, her butler, glanced toward the drawing room.
“Mrs. Gillingham is here to see you.”
“Oh no,” Portia wailed, and was immediately appalled at her lack of self-control. She never showed emotion in front of anyone but Hettie…and Marcus. “That is, it is so late,” she went on, her voice calm again.
“I did mention the lateness of the hour, my lady,” Deed said with a sympathetic note in his voice.
Slowly, Portia stripped off her gloves and reached up to remove her bonnet, at the same time paying more attention to Deed’s expression. Her butler’s face was always helpful in determining the mood in her household. “Mrs. Gillingham can be difficult, Deed, but she is Lord Ellerslie’s only child.”
“Indeed, my lady.” He looked long-suffering now. “A very exacting lady, my lady, or so she was when she resided here with his lordship. Begging your pardon if I speak out of turn, but we here in Grosvenor Square are very happy with the current arrangement.”
It was the nearest he could come to telling her he was her loyal and trusted servant.
“Thank you, Deed. I had better see her so that we can send her on her way.”
Deed almost smiled.
As Portia walked across the marble floor toward the drawing room, she felt the weight of responsibility on her shoulders—a responsibility she did not want. Lara had never liked her, and although she had tried her best to build a friendship or at least some mutual respect with her stepdaughter, she had failed. Why couldn’t Lara live her life, and let her live hers? Why did she have to criticize and judge and turn it into a contest about whom her father loved the best?
A great wave of weariness swept over her. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and hurry up the stairs to her bed. Pull the covers over her head. No more smiling, no more being polite, no more Lady Ellerslie. Just Portia, tired and worried and confused.
But she knew she couldn’t do that. All the people in this house were dependent upon her. She had a duty to them. Usually she did not mind. In fact she prided herself upon carrying out such duties to the best of her ability. But tonight the souls in her keeping weighed heavy upon her.
“Portia?”
Lara’s voice was strident, breaking the spell. She had come out of the drawing room and was watching her.
“Why are you standing there in the dark? Didn’t Deed tell you I was waiting?”
Portia hoped Lara hadn’t read the chaotic thoughts in her face. Her stepmother’s moment of crisis would be another thing to save up and throw back at her the next time she was feeling spiteful.
