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“You can’t expect to hide away from the world forever, Marcus.”
“I don’t. Just until the worst of it blows over.”
“They won’t let you. Can’t you see that? Too many important people have a stake in Lady Ellerslie. They will be looking for someone to blame, and it won’t be her.”
“In the days of the first Duvals, when they were under attack, they took away the causeway.”
“What? So you intend to stay here under siege and pour boiling oil over your walls? Marcus, wake up. These aren’t the days of knights and dragons; this is the nineteenth century!”
“Your brother is right.”
They both looked up as Portia approached them. Marcus was unshaven, his hair tussled from his ride in the dawn light, while his brother was hollow-eyed from the journey. They were suddenly far more alike than she had realized.
“Lady Ellerslie.” Sebastian gave her a formal bow.
She saw the way he glanced over her old-fashioned clothing but was too polite to comment. “I’m afraid your brother did not think to provide me with a wardrobe, my lord, so I’ve had to make use of what was available in the attics.”
Sebastian’s dark eyes warmed with laughter. “My brother can be a thoughtless wretch, Lady Ellerslie.”
“Nonsense, I’m her hero.”
She smiled at Marcus, and somehow their gazes got tangled up and she could not seem to look away. It was Sebastian clearing his throat that cut through the moment. She took a breath, stiffening her spine, knowing that any news from London must be bad.
“Do they know?”
“Not yet. I have heard that your stepdaughter’s husband is paying for information as to your whereabouts, and some of the people he is paying are by no means scrupulous. They will find you, it is only a matter of time. Then it will be up to him whether he spreads the word or comes here himself to persuade you to return.”
“Arnold,” she murmured, and knew her face paled. “He is a dangerous man, and he hates me, although I don’t understand why. Because I don’t admire him as Lara does, I suppose. She is much easier to fathom…she hates me because her father married me. She would have hated any woman in those circumstances.”
She frowned.
“Are they still living in my house in Grosvenor Square?”
“I believe they have moved back to Curzon Street. Lord Ellerslie’s sister, Jane, has put herself in charge of your household.”
Portia brightened. “Good.”
“So, you do not intend to return to London if Arnold Gillingham sends for you?”
“Certainly not! Even if he comes in person and tries to drag me back, I will refuse to go.”
“Let him try,” Marcus said in a quiet, deadly voice. “My ancestors used to chain their enemies in the marshes and wait for the tide to come in. Less messy than a dungeon.”
“Thank you, Marcus, but as much as I am tempted, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Portia answered him with a smile, as if she enjoyed
the image he painted for her. “If Arnold—when Arnold comes for me, I want to be gone. I won’t stay here, shivering and hiding. I must return and explain before the scandal breaks.” She looked to Sebastian. “Will you take me back to London, my lord?”
Marcus interrupted. “Bugger that,” he said angrily, “if anyone takes you back, it will be me.”
“No!” Both his brother and Portia spoke together.
Portia reached to clasp his arm, speaking urgently. “Marcus, if you come with me, they will arrest you. You must stay here where you’re safe until everything has been sorted out.”
“Stay here where I’m safe?” he repeated in amazement, his eyebrows raised. “I’m not some schoolboy afraid of the dark. I have been a soldier. I can fight. I demand to come with you and face my enemies.”
“But I don’t want you to.”
He looked as if he wanted to rant and rave, and shout and stamp around the room, but instead he gave her one long infuriated look and strode away.
