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She had been bursting to get onto the train and get home. She told herself that she should be vastly relieved. But instead she felt as if all the color had gone from her world.

Marcus didn’t go straight back to Minnie’s house. He told Zac to drive him to the cove, and once there he stripped off his clothing and swam. He swam until he was too exhausted to think. To ask himself why he hadn’t done as Minnie said and fight for the woman.

Instead he’d let her go.

He’d seen the longing in her eyes, that and her determination to make this their final meeting. She craved his touch as a laudanum addict craved his little blue bottle. If nothing else, she was in lust with his body and his skills as a lover. He could have used that physical need to persuade her to see him again—he was arrogant enough to believe he was capable of it—but he hadn’t.

Marcus knew it was because he was afraid. Portia meant more to him than he’d ever expected her to—more perhaps than he meant to her—and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. He’d set out to Aphrodite’s that evening for a good time, not to find a lifelong partner. He wasn’t sure of the direction of his own life, so how could he burden himself with someone else on the journey? Someone to care for and to love. Sebastian was right—he was drifting—and he didn’t know what to do about it.

He looked around him, treading water, catching his breath.

He’d swum out a long way and needed to turn back. It wasn’t as if he could escape the world forever; it would always be waiting for him. Even if now it was a world without Portia.

Slowly, Marcus began to swim toward the shore.

Chapter 14

Portia had barely taken a step inside the house in Grosvenor Square when she was besieged.

“My lady!” Deed, with his wig askew, appeared to have sustained a severe shock, but whatever he meant to say was lost in a terrifying shriek. Her mother was standing at the head of the grand staircase.

“Portia! Portia, my child! Terrible news…dreadful…”

Portia’s heart leapt into her throat, choking her. For one dizzy moment she thought this was all about her and Marcus, that someone had discovered the truth and now it was all about to come out. Lurid broadsheets on every street corner blaring the news in appalling detail. Important people, people she’d come to think of as her friends, snubbing her. The images formed with terrifying speed. Victoria, her face a mask of distaste, saying, You allowed yourself to give way to lust, Lady Ellerslie? What sort of message does that send to my nation?

Portia swallowed. “What is it?” She managed to find her voice at last.

“There has been an attempt to assassinate the queen,” her mother burst out dramatically, and sagged against the banisters.

Servants rushed to aid her, but Portia did not move. She was rooted to the spot, overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events.

“Is she…?” she whispered.

“No, my lady.” Deed was beside her, watchful, as if he feared she might faint, too. “Her Majesty sustained a knock on her head from the brass end of a gentleman’s cane. She was leaving Cambridge House, after visiting her uncle the duke. After the attack she stood up in the carriage and assured the crowd that she was unhurt. Very courageous of her it was, if I may offer my humble opinion.”

Portia gave a shuddering gasp. “Oh, I’m so glad.”

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“She sent a servant to fetch you!” her mother said, having recovered enough to speak again. “What a time to choose to visit a nonentity in the country! And to stay on overnight without telling anyone.”

“Dorothy had been ill. She begged me—”

“I don’t care! I felt extremely foolish when I could not explain to the royal messenger where you were.”

“I will go to the palace instantly,” Portia said, hurrying to the stairs and stripping off her gloves as she went. “Have the carriage brought around!”

There had been five previous attempts upon Victoria’s life, the last as recently as one year ago, when a pistol was fired, but thankfully was loaded with no more than gunpowder. It had greatly alarmed the queen, however, perhaps more than the other attempts, when the pistol had been loaded and either missed its mark or misfired. Victoria always showed a brave face to the public, but Portia knew that in private she would be upset. And furious that anyone would want to harm her. As she hurried into her rooms, she wondered whether this time it was a plot to topple the monarchy, or just another deranged soul.

Hettie helped her change. “It is too dreadful for words,” she murmured.

“But she is safe, that is the main thing,” Portia said, unpinning her hair. “We must be thankful for that.”

“I did not mean Her Majesty the Queen, lieben. I was thinking of what might have happened if she had sent someone after you and found you and that man.”

“They wouldn’t have been able to find me.”

“And is that in itself not suspicious?”

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