“Demand admittance. I am a connection, and an earl.”
“But…”
“Shhhh.”
They tiptoed through the kitchen, by the lowly kitchen servants sleeping on mats near the fire, then he eased open a door into the garden. It did remind Portia poignantly of some of their childhood escapades. How innocent they had been then.
Even though the moon was clear, the garden seemed bleak and dark. Portia shivered in the chill air. “I don’t think humans are supposed to be about at this time of night,” she whispered.
“If we were to drive by St. James, you’d find the place very much awake. Some people scarce see daylight at this time of year.”
“Which is proof of the rottenness of London.”
The coach was waiting. They climbed in and the coachman set the four horses into motion.
Fort looked at Portia with a puzzled frown. “I’m at a loss as to why Bryght Malloren was willing to marry you. He’s just the sort to spend the night gaming, whereas you think that despicable. You have nothing in common.”
“I know that,” said Portia, hands gripped tight. “I suppose he felt obliged to.”
“Devil a bit. That business at Mirabelle’s made marriage less likely not more.”
“Probably. I was thinking of Lady Willoughby’s.”
“Ah, yes. But there was nothing to that really until I decided to force his hand.”
She looked at him. “Do you not regret that now?”
“No. It gets better and better.”
Portia turned to look out of the window. She knew this journey was taking her straight to disaster, but she had never had any other choice.
Chapter 24
Like most coach journeys it was tedious and gave too much time to think. Portia sat looking out at the moon-silvered landscape wondering when Bryght would realize she was missing, and what he would do.
Any and all prospects terrified her.
The best possibility was that he might chase after her to Overstead, which would give them plenty of time to investigate matters at the Abbey. If everything turned out to be innocent, she would simply await her fate.
If not, and if Oliver was still alive, she would have to rescue him and take him to safety. But where? Could she hide from Bryght if he chose to seek her?
He would have to seek her. What would the world say if his possibly-mistreated bride disappeared within hours of the ceremony?
Perhaps the best hope was that he would never want to see her again. Then she could return to Overstead and look after it for Oliver. If Bryght didn’t tell the world their marriage was an empty shell, she wouldn’t, and their living apart might not surprise the cynical world of the aristocracy.
Unless he wanted children.
Unless she was carrying his child.
She imagined bearing a child only to have it torn from her and taken to be raised by its father. The law would allow it, and perhaps Bryght would think it a just revenge. If she were pregnant, perhaps she would flee the country…
“What’s the matter?” Fort said. “It’s too late for second thoughts now.”
“I know. It’s other thoughts that torment me.”
“Of Bryght Malloren? You’re not as cool to him as you try to pretend, are you?”
She turned to him. “Would you be willing to kiss me?”
