Now, for some reason, it was looking like a labor of Hercules.
Portia had blocked Bryght Malloren out of her mind so successfully that she was startled to hear his voice at her shoulder. “Miss St. Claire, a word with you, if you please.”
She turned warily.
“What, pray, is your connection to the Gloucestershire St. Claire family?”
Portia was so disordered by his return that she could hardly think. She managed to answer coherently, however. “That was my father’s family, my lord. He was a younger son of Lord Felsham.” She was pleased enough to let him know that she was not a complete nonentity.
“Then perchance, is Lady Trelyn a connection?”
Distrusting everything about this encounter, Portia frowned at him. “Lady Trelyn?”
“Oh come, Portia,” Oliver interrupted. “Nerissa Trelyn! You asked about her earlier.”
“She was a St. Claire before she wed,” said Bryght.
Oliver stared between them. “You mean Nerissa Trelyn is a connection of yours, Portia? Bless me, why didn’t you say so?”
Portia was completely off balance. She flickered a glance at the beautified Queen of Society. “I don’t know…. I believe I have a cousin Nerissa…. But…”
“But have not met,” said Lord Bryght. “I thought so. You must permit me to introduce you. Come.” He extended his arm.
Portia would not have gone, for she distrusted anything Bryght Malloren did. Oliver, however, urged her on.
Portia was shepherded across the grass to where Nerissa Trelyn was holding court. In contrast to the Findlayson, Lady Trelyn was cloaked in white satin lined with thick white fur, and was surrounded mostly by ladies. She looked for all the world like a queen with her court.
Portia halted. Though Lady Trelyn was quite young—probably younger than herself—Portia could not think of such a grand lady as her relative. “She will not repulse you, Hippolyta,” said Bryght softly. “Not if you are introduced by me.”
And what did that mean? Portia wondered as she was propelled forward by a hand on her back—a hand that seemed to be sending hot vibrations down her spine.
Lady Trelyn turned her head and saw them. She froze for a brief revealing moment, but then she smiled and Portia thought she might have been mistaken about that fleeting expression of alarm. Bryght bowed with almost exaggerated reverence.
“Lord Bryght.” Nerissa’s voice was husky. Portia saw with something like despair that Nerissa’s perfect, pearly complexion owed nothing to artifice.
Bryght kissed the bejeweled hand she extended and then straightened to acknowledge the beauty’s husband with a much more moderate bow.
No love lost there either, thought Portia.
“I come bearing gifts,” said Bryght. “My dear Lady Trelyn, I do believe I have found a cousin for you.”
“Cousin?” Nerissa looked between Oliver and Portia.
Bryght urged Portia a step closer. “May I present Miss Portia St. Claire?”
Nerissa looked blankly at Portia for a moment, then laughed with seemingly genuine delight. “Portia! Uncle Fernley’s girl? But I have heard of you. How delightful!”
Portia was enveloped in an overwhelming perfumed embrace, and introduced to Lord Trelyn. Introduced in fact to everyone in a dizzying assembly of smiles and names.
“And you, sir?” Nerissa asked at last of Oliver.
He made a profound, adoring bow. “Alas, my lady, I can only claim to be a relative by marriage. I am Sir Oliver Upcott, Portia’s half-brother.”
He was kissed on the cheek all the same. “But a relative of sorts. This is of all things wonderful! You must come to dine, mustn’t they, Trelyn? I want to hear all about your family, and…and, oh, everything.” Her charming excitement was flattering, and all around beamed upon her. “Let me see. This is Tuesday and…” she counted on her pretty fingers and then glanced endearingly at her husband, “Saturday, Trelyn?”
“If you wish, my dear.” But he alone was not beaming, and his voice and eyes were cool. He glanced at Bryght Malloren thoughtfully.
Portia, too, wondered what was behind all this. She was delighted to find a relative in London, especially such a powerful and charming one, but could not imagine that Bryght Malloren was motivated by uncontaminated kindness.
