“I am sitting on it because you have no sense in these matters.”
“I have more sense than you.”
“Then how did you throw everything away at cards?”
“Plague take you, Portia. That isn’t fair. I was cheated!”
She planted her hands on her hips. “The more fool you. And the more fool you for playing still.”
“Need I remind you that I won two hundred guineas, and from Bryght Malloren, no less?”
“And lost seventy of it last night.”
“I was just unlucky.”
“And always will be.”
After a moment of glaring violence, he slammed out of the room leaving Portia badly shaken. She’d never fought with Oliver before because he wasn’t of an argumentative nature. He certainly wasn’t of a violent disposition, but now she was afraid of him. She feared he was, in truth, mad when it came to gaming.
How was she to avoid disaster?
Her hands were shaking as she took out the small pouch of gold and counted out the rent for three months. She considered carefully, then included money for coals, for bread and ale, and for one meal a day each from the chop house. She took it down to their landlady.
“Why, Miss St. Claire,” said the thin woman, sliding the purse into her pocket, “how pleasant it will be to have two such respectable people in my house for so long.”
“I may not stay, Mrs. Pinney. I will soon be needed at home.”
“Well, you may be sure I will take excellent care of your brother for you. Such a fine young man. There is just one thing…”
“Yes?” asked Portia, wondering what new blow was about to fall.
“I think Sir Oliver is a little neglectful about the locks, Miss St. Claire. I rose this morning to find the door unlocked. We could all have been murdered in our beds!”
Portia relaxed with relief. “I’m truly sorry, Mrs. Pinney. In the country…”
“This is not the country. Please ask Sir Oliver to be more careful.”
“Yes, I will. Thank you.”
Portia escaped back to her room, feeling some relief to have matters settled.
She knew she could not stay in London for it was poisoning her, but she wasn’t at all sure she could persuade Oliver to leave. If Fort had no help to offer then she would return to Overstead and organize the move to Manchester.
She told herself firmly that even Manchester was a better place than this, and that with courage and hard work a good life could be made anywhere.
She would try to persuade Oliver to go with her. If he would not go, however, she could leave knowing that he would have a roof over his head and a meal a day for a few months.
That left only thirty guineas in the purse, however, and she feared Oliver would notice the lack. She did not want him to even suspect that she had hidden part of the money and so she took out some of the coins from behind the fireplace.
Some of them were jammed and a couple had slipped in too far, and so she had to use a knife to work them free. As she did so, she couldn’t help thinking of Lord Bryght.
Her hands paused in their work. She had been awake half the night puzzling over him, and when she slept he had been in her dreams. He was as alien to her as a hawk in a chicken coop, and just as dangerous, and yet she could not banish him from her mind. She could recall his flickering, subtle smile, the graceful movements of his elegant hands, and the soft magic of his beautiful voice….
She jabbed a coin fiercely with her knife, but instead of loosening it, she pushed it farther back and out of reach.
Damnation!
She rested her head in her hands, fighting tears. Not only was she facing abject poverty, against all reason she was obsessed by a high-born rake of a gamester! No doubt every woman he met fell in love with him and he found it vastly amusing. He probably expected her to be so overwhelmed by the honor of his attentions that she would fall willingly into an illicit affair.
