“Damnation. She must have asked him for help.”
“It can’t matter, can it?”
Bryght contemplated a very ugly vase. “I don’t like it, but at least he’s as determined on this marriage as I am.” He turned back to his friend. “Don’t speak of this, please.”
“Of course not. It was a lesson to me not to game with pigeons even when they insist. Damned embarrassing to have a man stake his estate, but what could I do? Refuse to play with him?”
“No, of course not. But I’ll be happy enough not to take part in such matters again.”
“Not to game again?” echoed Barclay in astonishment.
“Part of my wedding vows.” Bryght picked up his wineglass. “Come, toast my happiness.”
“With pleasure,” said Barclay, “but—forgive me for mentioning it—isn’t keeping your brother-in-law under lock and key likely to cast a shadow on your future?”
“If Portia finds out, it’ll be more than a shadow. The worst of it is I still don’t know what to do to solve the problem. I can’t have him constantly gaming away his property.”
“Put him on a ship?”
“Out of sight, out of mind? I don’t think Portia has such a convenient memory.Shewants him at her wedding.”
Barclay chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in such a tangle. What will you do?”
Bryght drained his glass. “Get married first. The rest is for later. But if you care to oblige me…”
“Yes?”
“You could go down to the Abbey and keep an eye on things. The family are all away, either here or down at Steen’s place. My men had their orders, but they appear to be getting carried away. I don’t care to think they might have locked Upcott in the cellars. You could make sure they’re tending his wounds with loving care. At the same time, you could prevent him imitating his sister and climbing out of windows.”
Barclay chuckled. “Remarkable woman, your future wife.”
“I think so. Can you leave now?”
“I’ll miss your nuptials.”
“That’s the idea,” said Bryght with a wry smile. “The last thing I need is for Portia to be introduced to Major Barclay, close friend of her husband’s. At least, not before the knot is tied.”
The next day—and far too soon—Portia found herself preparing for her wedding.
At least she had hardly seen Nerissa. Once assured the wedding would go ahead, her cousin had thrown herself into the arrangements with enthusiasm, and appeared to be enjoying herself mightily. It appeared that Nerissa’s love of entertainment and display had overwhelmed her bitterness. Or perhaps it was just the destruction of that letter that had her so merry.
On the other hand, Nerissa was cunning. Her enthusiasm for this wedding was convincing Lord Trelyn that she had absolutely no interest in Bryght Malloren. He was once more the proud, indulgent spouse.
Portia had moments when she positively longed to go to the earl and tell him all she knew about his wife. She wasn’t sure she would be believed, however, and it would be an act of pure spite.
Portia had just finished her bath and was drying herself when Nerissa came into the room preceding a maid carrying a large cloth bundle. “See!” Nerissa declared, and unraveled the linen herself to reveal the dress made out of the embroidered silk.
Portia was clutching her towel for modesty, but she stared at the lovely gown.
“It is perfect for your wedding!” Nerissa declared.
“It is too fine. It is an evening gown.”
“Nothing is too fine for a wedding. I wore silk embroidered with silver and pearls. Chastity Ware wore the most ridiculous confection of white lace. When one thinks…but no more of that. You must wear this gown. The king is to be present, you know.”
“What?” Portia clutched the towel more tightly.
“You are to be married in the Chapel Royal. Rothgar’s work. He is determined to cover you with respectability. Oh, and there was another package. From Bryght.” She dispatched the maid to find it then turned to Portia with a smirk. “Judging from the seamstress who sent it, however, I am not at all sure it is proper.”
