“Hardly that.”
“But he plays?”
“Everyone plays.”
Her eyes flashed. “Would this perhaps be the same Major Barclay who cheated Oliver out of his estate?”
“Gentlemen don’t cheat at cards, Portia.”
“Hawks do,” she spat.
Damnation, she couldn’t do this here. “Portia, Barclay is not a hawk. Nor am I. Yes, he won your brother’s estate, but he won it in fair play.” When she started to argue that, he said sharply, “Later. We can discuss this later.”
She pulled on a cloak of composure, but the expression in her eyes was seething. “I want to discuss itnow.”
“We are the focus of too many eyes.”
“Then let us leave.”
That showed how angry she was. “Don’t be absurd. We can’t leave before the king and queen. Come and talk to Aunt Caroline.”
She sucked in a deep breath, but allowed herself to be led over to his elderly aunt.
There he left her, for he felt sure there was much less chance of disaster if they kept apart.
Brand came over and grinned. “I do like variety in a family. A few weeks ago Cyn and Chastity were wandering through their reception like sleepwalkers, blushing and smiling every time their eyes met.”
“Perhaps, being older, Portia and I have more control and discretion.”
“Perhaps,” said Brand. “But I tell you, when I choose a bride she’ll be a quiet, comfortable woman.”
Bryght looked at him. “You mean some people get achoice? ”
He left his brother laughing and moved through the room, talking to one group then another, hoping he was giving a fair representation of a happy but mature bridegroom whose mind was too well-disciplined to be obsessed by the marriage bed.
He saw Portia catch Fort’s eye and cross the room directly to him. They didn’t blush and smile, thank God, but there was something between them. Even as Bryght took part in a desultory discussion about poor relief, he watched his wife.
Therefore he saw Fort give her a letter.
Portia had been trying to be polite to strangers at the same time as she tried to come to terms with the fact that the horrible Barclay was a friend of Bryght’s. It was so wearing, that when Fort caught her eye she was glad to go to talk to him. At least with Fort she didn’t have to pretend.
“I know that look,” he said. “You’d like to spear someone. Remember you’re the happy bride.”
“Happy! You’re partly responsible for this. If it hadn’t been for that duel—”
“But I wanted this marriage. It’ll serve very well, and you’ll do all right out of it.”
Portia gritted her teeth. “Bryght is a gamester. When he’s not a gamester, he’s indulging in rash monetary speculations. He’ll end up in debtor’s prison.”
“Very likely,” he said in excellent humor. “He’s apparently deep in Bridgewater’s scheme, and that is likely to come to a disastrous end because I’m about to take a hand.”
“But what about me?” she demanded.
“The Mallorens will take care of you.”
Before Portia could tell him her opinion of this and him, he sobered and said, “I wanted to speak with you about something else, even if it is under the glowering eye of your husband.”
Portia looked over and saw that Bryght was watching them. He wasn’t glowering, but he didn’t approve. She deliberately turned back to Fort with a smile. “Is something the matter?”
