“No, not him, the dark-haired man next to him.” Portia sighed dreamily as she gazed in his direction.
“I am not acquainted with that gentleman,” Lydia said. “Who is he?”
“Haven’t the faintest idea. I only know he shall be mine.” Portia giggled and twirled where she stood, almost humming to herself. “Won’t we make the most beautiful babies together?”
“Portia, that is ridiculous. You don’t even know the gentleman’s name,” Lydia said.
Her sister laughed. “Oh, he’s no gentleman. Lord, Lydia, look at how he holds himself, powerful, with little care to his clothes, his hair ruffled by the wind, and a hungry look in those gray eyes ...”
“Those sound like fine qualities in a heartless seducer, not a husband,” Lydia responded primly. But the more she dared to look at the gentleman in question, the more she saw exactly what her sister had described. He had a wild, barely restrained look that gave him an unmistakable air of danger. A flush rolled through her, and she had to spread her fan and whip it rapidly to dispel the sudden heat in her body. Her breath quickened as she saw the man break into a smile as a lovely woman walked past him.
Lord, that smile. It was the sort to break a woman’s heart before she’d even been introduced to him.
“Maybe Iwanthim to seduce me,” Portia declared, a little too loudly, given the sudden stares of a few nearby ladies. Portia’s words set their fans fluttering wildly, no doubt to cover the gossip the women would soon be spreading.
“Portia, please do not say such things.”
“It’s notmyfault you aren’t married, Lydia.” Portia’s unexpected insult stung more than Lydia wished it to. She loved her sister, but sometimes Portia was very difficult to like.
“Portia, that wasn’t very nice,” Lysandra said sternly.
“Well, it’s true.” Portia shoved between Lydia and Lysandra and started straight toward the pair of young men, who may well have been man-eating tigers as far as innocent young women were concerned.
“What on earth is she doing?” Lysandra asked. “Is she mad?”
Lydia sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Mad? No. Acting foolishly? Most certainly.” Lydia rushed after her sister, but was too late. Portia was already talking to the dark-haired stranger. Lydia knew she should rush over and stop her, but she was frozen in place. The gentleman was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. She had spent four seasons in London and had seen the best men in England, and none of them compared to him. Portia, for once, was right. He was a man a woman would be irresistibly drawn to, even at the cost of her innocence.
“Excuse me.” Portia smiled as she stopped before Rafe Lennox and his dark-haired companion.
“Well, hello, my dear.” Rafe grinned down at Portia, a wolfish glint to his smile that would have sent a more intelligent woman sprinting toward the nearest chaperone.
“I know this is terribly forward, but I’m afraid I am not acquainted with either of you, and I should very much like to be.” Portia’s musical voice carried across the room. She sounded so sweetly innocent, but Lydia knew better.
“You hear that, Brodie? She would like to be better acquainted with us,” Rafe said. The silent, dark-haired man next to Rafe grinned as well, and when he spoke, his Scottish accent was unmistakable. It was as though God had designed this man to make Lydia fall hopelessly in love with him.
The man named Brodie smiled at Portia in clear amusement. “Does she now? I believe we would as well, lass. What’s your name?”
“I am Portia Hunt.”
“Portia.” Brodie rolled her name off his tongue, and Lydia could see her sister almost swoon. Lydia couldn’t blame her—she was equally as affected. “My name is Brodie Kincade, and my companion here is Mr. Rafe Lennox.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Mr. Lennox and Mr. Kincade.”
“How well acquainted do you wish to be, Miss Hunt?” Rafe inquired with a smile that spoke of dangerous intimacy.
Whatever Portia had planned to say was stopped when Great-Aunt Cornelia materialized next to her, snatching her away from the two gentlemen. She dragged Portia nearly a dozen feet away, creating a minor spectacle, which soon grew into a major one the moment she spoke.
“Portia Elizabeth Hunt, what onearthare you thinking?” Cornelia demanded sharply. “Eh, girl?”
Cornelia was a formidable creature, and despite her plumpness, she was a strong woman and not to be trifled with.
“I was thinking I was meeting my future bridegroom,” Portia shot back as she pulled her hand free of Cornelia’s grasp.
“You were doing no such thing!”
Rafe and Brodie watched with amusement while Portia argued with her great-aunt. Finally, Lydia found herself able to move, and she joined her sister and aunt in order to calm things down.
“Did you see your sister walk up to those young bucks and introduce herself? Mercy, I shall faint.” Despite Cornelia’s insistence that she would faint, she looked entirely unlikely to. “And where were you in all this, Lydia?”
