She got to her feet.
“You do not understand, Lord Attingsborough, do you?” she said. “Iwill nothear her name. I will go now and write to Papa. He will not be pleased.”
“Portia—” he said.
“I believe,” she said, “you no longer have any right to use that name, my lord.”
“Our engagement is off, then?” he asked her.
“I cannot imagine anything that would make me reconsider,” she told him, and turned to walk back to the house.
He stood where he was, watching her go.
It was only when she had disappeared from sight that he felt the beginnings of elation.
He was free!
20
Claudia returned to Lindsey Hall without Lizzie. By the timethe Marquess of Attingsborough returned to his room, she was fast asleep and it seemed very possible that she would sleep all night if left undisturbed. Lady Ravensberg offered to have a truckle bed set up for him in the dressing room.
He also insisted upon escorting Claudia back to Lindsey Hall in his own carriage—the guests from there had returned home long ago, of course. The viscountess, Anne, and Susanna all promised to watch Lizzie until his return.
Claudia tried to insist upon going alone, but he would not hear of it. Neither would Anne and Susanna, who reminded her that it was now evening. And heaven help her, Claudia thought as they descended the staircase together and stepped out onto the terrace, where the carriage awaited them, she was not going to argue the point.
Viscount and Viscountess Ravensberg were out there, as was Lady Redfield.
“Miss Martin,” the countess said, “I hope you will disregard everything that Lady Sutton and Miss Hunt said earlier. My husband and I have been delighted to entertain both you and the girls from your school—includingLizzie Pickford—and you were not neglecting your duties by walking with your childhood friend, the Duke of McLeith. We were all watching her and so we were all responsible for letting her wander away.”
“Miss Martin was certainly not to blame,” the Marquess of Attingsborough said. “When she went walking I was playing with Lizzie. She had every reason to believe that I would keep her safe.”
He handed Claudia into the carriage and climbed in after her.
“Miss Martin,” the viscountess said, leaning into the carriage before the door was closed, “youwillcome to the anniversary ball tomorrow, will you not?”
Claudia could think of nothing she would like less.
“Perhaps it would be better,” she said, “if I were to stay away.”
“You must not,” the viscountess said. “You would thereby suggest to some of our guests that they have more power to decide who is welcome at our home than we have.”
“Lauren is quite right, Miss Martin. Please come,” the countess said. Her eyes twinkled. “You do not look to me like a lady who lacks courage.”
The viscount, when Claudia caught his eye, winked.
“You are all most kind,” Claudia said. “Very well, then, I will come.”
What shereallywanted to do, she thought, was return to Lindsey Hall alone, pack her bags, and leave at first light. As the door closed and the carriage moved forward, she thought of the last time she had left Lindsey Hall. How she would love to repeat that exit!
The carriage suddenly seemed to be filled with just the two of them—the very same carriage in which he had taken refuge from the rain on the road from Bath when she had been uncomfortably aware of his masculinity. She was aware again, though of far more than just that.
And she remembered what—incredibly—she had almost forgotten in the emotional turmoil of the past hour or so. While they had been sitting on the bed in that little hut in the woods he had spoken to her without any sound—with only lip movements. But she had heard loudly and clearly.
I love you,he had told her.
Heartache, she thought, was very likely to turn to heartbreak before this was all over. And that was an optimistic assessment of the future. Itwouldturn to heartbreak. Indeed, it already had.
“Miss Hunt has broken off our engagement,” he said as the carriage wheels rumbled onto the Palladian bridge.
