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“Very well,” she murmured through stiff lips, and passed by him into the drawing room.
Lara was seated on the straw-colored sofa, her back very straight. There was a strange look in her eyes. “Portia,” she said in a harsh voice, “how could you?”
Portia understood then it was far worse than she had imagined. Lara’s look was one of revulsion, and that meant they knew where she’d been and perhaps even who she’d been with.
In a moment of panic she turned for the door, but it was too late. Arnold had closed it and was standing in front of it, his handsome face without a flicker of compassion or understanding.
“What are you doing?” she asked him, chin up, eyes flashing. “This is my house and you have no right—”
“This is my father’s house,” Lara corrected her angrily. “And we have every right. We are here to bring you to your senses, Stepmama.”
“My senses? I don’t know what you mean?” But she did, and behind her angry front, in her heart, she was afraid.
“You will ruin us all.” Lara had risen to her feet. This was her moment of revenge for all the perceived wrongs Portia had done her, and she was making the most of it.
“I’ve ruined no one. What are you talking about?”
“I think you know,” Lara said, and her face looked swollen with gloating. “You’ve fallen from grace, Portia.”
“Have you been drinking?”
Lara rushed at her. Before Portia could react, she had pulled aside her cloak. Lara shuddered dramatically at the flash of scarlet silk. “A scarlet dress for a scarlet woman,” she intoned, voice trembling with loathing and excitement.
“Do not touch me.”
“Oh, I’ll touch you!” Lara cried, tearing at the cloak. “I’ll touch you, all right,” she said, tugging at the ties that held it about Portia’s shoulders. “Take it off, take it off, and show us all what kind of woman you are. You should never have married my father. You did not deserve a man like that.”
After a brief struggle the cloak fell to the floor.
She might as well have been naked, Portia thought, but stood stiffly, her chin up, as if their opinions meant nothing to her. “I will not forgive you for this,” she said with quiet dignity.
Lara stared at her, eyes bulging, as though she had swallowed a whole fig. “Arnold,” she gasped. “Tell her…tell her…”
In contrast to his wife, Arnold was perusing Portia as if she was a banquet that he wasn’t certain he wanted to partake of. She remembered that for all his indolence, Arnold loathed weakness in others. And he would consider her feelings for Marcus a weakness and despise her for giving in to them.
“Lara is correct, Portia. You will ruin our family if this goes on. The queen will send you away. You know she cannot abide immoral behavior. A whiff of adultery and you will be banished to some godforsaken Scottish castle, or worse…to the colonies.”
“How can I commit adultery when my husband is dead?” Portia mocked him.
Lara gasped in shock, hand clutched to her throat, but her eyes were glittering with excitement. “You brazen creature! Is that all you can say? What about my father’s memory? His good name?”
“He lives on in the hearts and minds of the people,” Arnold r
eminded her, as if she needed reminding. “They will never forgive you if you betray him. Can you live with that, Portia? Can you look all those who love you in the eye and tell them you no longer care? And for what, a tumble with a man like Marcus Worthorne?”
“You don’t know—”
“Of course I know!” His face twisted in disgust. “He’s been sniffing around you for months. That little note at the opera, and the tryst in the Campaign Room—did you think I didn’t know about that?” he said with a flash of amusement at her ignorance. “His heroics at the unveiling of Lord Ellerslie’s statue. No gentleman would behave in such a way, bringing shame and embarrassment to you and your family. I thought you’d come to your senses then, but obviously you prefer cavemen to gentlemen. The time has come, Portia, to put an end to this nonsense once and for all.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Portia said stubbornly, her face white. She didn’t know whether she was humiliated or furious, or both. What he had said was true, but it was a truth stripped of all the goodness and warmth and joy. It was Arnold’s view of the world, and it chilled her to the bone. “Get out,” she demanded. “Get out now!”
“Oh? And what will happen to your dear mother?” Arnold went on evenly.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I would imagine you would not want to risk anything happening to her, Portia. You’ve managed to keep the truth hidden very well, until now. What if it is discovered that she is going slowly mad? I’ve heard about her antics. She’ll have forgotten her own name soon. What will people say if she hurts someone?” He smiled.
“My mother would never hurt anyone!”
