“Then I will not wear it.”
“No? You are going to vow obedience, Cousin. Shouldn’t you perhaps anticipate the wedding?”
Portia fought it, but at the words “anticipate the wedding” color rose in her face. She turned away to dry herself further.
“I wonder if you are still a virgin,” Nerissa mused behind her. “Rumor says that Bryght did not deflower little Hippolyta at Mirabelle’s. But what happened when you went running to him two days ago?”
Portia ignored her and sat at the dressing table, still swathed in the towel. She would not take it off in front of Nerissa. She unpinned her hair.
“As the matron present, perhaps I should prepare you for the dreadful shock of the marriage bed.” Nerissa came up behind so that Portia could see her beautiful, wicked face in the mirror, and smell her cloying perfume—a perfume that took her back to Maidenhead and a diabolic intruder.
How could she ever have imagined that her rashness that day would lead to this?
Nerissa smiled. “Does your silence mean you prefer ignorance? Or that you are no longer ignorant?”
Portia made herself meet the avid eyes. “It means that I need no assistance of yours in my marriage.”
“You have experienced his bed?”
“No,” Portia said, strengthened by the fact that it was true. “Until I chased you, I had never entered Bryght’s bedchamber.”
Nerissa’s brows rose. “But what wonders are to be revealed! It will go better, though, if you are well prepared.” She leaned forward, so her face was next to Portia’s, and even slid her hand onto Portia’s bare shoulder. “Ignorance is not bliss. I have some most instructive books concealed from Trelyn.”
Portia shrugged the hand off. “Why conceal them? Perhaps your husband would find them instructive and you would not then need a lover.”
Nerissa flinched back as if hit. “Very well,” she snapped, standing straight. “Linger in ignorance and suffer for it. I merely sought to help. Your bible-reading ways will not serve in bed with Bryght Malloren.”
The maid returned then with a box and opened it. Without asking permission, Nerissa pawed through it then laughed. “Jupiter, but I wish I could be a fly on the wall!” She blew Portia a malicious kiss and left.
Under the intrigued eyes of the maid, Portia went to see what was in the box, though she could guess. Suggestive, wicked undergarments.
She was wrong.
The delicate items were not risqué at all. The shift was finest silk edged with precious lace, but decently opaque; the stays were prettily embroidered with flowers, but ladylike. The stockings made her smile a little, for they were identical to the ones they had found in Elf’s chest, silk lace and very fancy garters.
With Bryght Malloren, nothing was ever as she expected.
There was another knock, and Portia turned, expecting Nerissa back to taunt.
It was Elf, however, in magnificent amber silk and fairly bubbling with excitement. “I love weddings.” She saw the gown and gasped. “Portia! That is the mostexquisitefabric. Oh, I am consumed with jealousy. Come. Let us see you in it.”
Portia was caught up in a whirlwind. First, she was helped into the beautiful, discreet underwear. She noticed Elf hesitate at the sight of the stockings and garters, but nothing was said.
The maid tied the wide but light cane hoops around Portia’s waist and added a petticoat. Then she put on the gown and fastened it at the front.
It was an exquisite fabric, light but heavily textured. The cream silk was the perfect background for the jewel-like birds in blue, yellow, and green. As the mantua-maker had said, with such rich fabric there was no point in ornament. The design was simple—full skirted, low bodiced, and with elbow-length sleeves. The lovely lace of the shift flowed out there to almost cover Portia’s forearms.
She wished her bosom was as well covered.
The stays were designed to push up her breasts and make the most of their modest dimensions. Now the bodice of the dress ended a fraction lower so that the narrow lace frill of the stays showed.
Along with a great deal else! She hardly felt it was decent for church, but Elf’s bodice was as low.
Portia had given the jewels to Lord Trelyn to take care of and now his valet brought them to her. Portia thought them too grand for day wear, even if royalty were to be present and only put on the earrings. She gave the rest into Elf’s care.
All the activity had distracted Portia from the occasion, but when it was time to go downstairs to enter the coach, panic hit her. She started to tremble.
“What’s the matter?” asked Elf, dismissing the maid. “Portia, what is it? You really cannot back out now. You can’t.”
