“The earl! Why would he do that?”
“It’s complex, but unraveling it caused his death. Fort blames us for that.”
Portia had a sudden insight. “And unraveling it involved that letter, didn’t it? That’s why you were in the earl’s house in Maidenhead.”
He nodded. “Exactly. Fort would be happy to do any Malloren an ill turn, though I doubt he actually wants to kill me. He’s more subtle than that. He wants, I believe, to have us married.”
Portia looked down at her glass. “An ill turn,” she echoed, trying not to show how much that hurt. “The Trelyns also wish to punish you with me.”
“How very obtuse of them.”
Portia looked up to see that he was watching her, watching her like a hawk. That reminded her of what he was besides wonderful, and she leaped to her feet to put the room between them. “There is no need to be polite, my lord. Having had time to think, I believe I understand the situation very well.” Portia stared at a fine picture of a foreign land, a sun-washed land of spice. “It was gallantry that drove you to purchase me at Mirabelle’s. I see now that no one would wish to do such a thing. I was disguised, but you were known. I’m sorry for accusing you of selfish desires.”
“You are forgiven.”
He sounded almost amused, but she did not dare look at him. “And I’m sure you never did intend to make improper advances to me in the square that day. It was entirely my ridiculous assumption….”
“True enough.”
She bit her unsteady lips. “And I should never have suggested you were lying to me about that quotation.”
“I’m amazed,” he remarked. “I had no idea I was so entirely innocent. Can you whitewash my behavior at Lady Willoughby’s, too?”
She turned, warily. “You jest, my lord, but it’s true. It is my folly and my brother’s that has caused the problems. It would be the grossest injustice for you to suffer for it.”
“Undoubtedly. So, Lady Willoughby’s? Come, at least attempt it.”
She could not understand him. “It appears to me that you do not take this seriously enough, my lord. It is your life we speak of.”
“I realize that, but I’m still curious as to the interpretation you can put on the Affair Willoughby.”
She frowned at his levity. “Very well, you were a little to blame. You shouldn’t have trapped me into a wager, and you shouldn’t have made the forfeit such an intimate one.”
That recalled another intimate wager and Portia blushed, praying he would not refer to it. Here, in a civilized room, with a gentleman fairly decently dressed, it was possible to try to forget that other occasion. Possible, but not easy once the memory was stirred.
His lids were lowered in a way that concealed his thoughts and made him deeply mysterious. “What other price could you have met, Hippolyta?”
“Don’t call me that!”
“But I like it. Don’t fear, I won’t call you that in public. In bed, now…”
Alarm shivered through her. “There is no question of bed between us, my lord.”
“Alas, there probably isn’t. Or not in the near future. So what would you rather have paid at the Willoughbys’?”
“I don’t know. Sixpence. A pair of embroidered slippers. An apple pie…”
He raised a brow. “What wondrous things you carry in the pockets beneath your evening gown.”
She glared at him. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes, but I have no need of money, or pies, or embroidered slippers, and I wanted you to kiss me. As much as you wanted to kiss me. As much as you want to kiss me now.”
Portia stiffened. “No, I don’t.”
“Ladies shouldn’t lie either, you know.”
“Are you saying you want to kiss me now?”
