“I don’t know.”
Nerissa was sipping chocolate, considering Portia with surprising shrewdness. “Do you know many people here in London?”
“No. I’m afraid not.”
“But what of Bryght Malloren?”
Portia almost spilled her chocolate. “What do you mean?” Did the whole world know the truth?
“In the park,” said Nerissa. “You seemed to know each other so well, then. Many people noted it.”
Portia could have wept with relief. She steadied her hands and hoped she could lie convincingly. “He is an acquaintance of my brother’s only.”
“That surprises me. What could they have in common?”
Portia tired of deception. “Gaming.”
“Ah.” Nerissa leaned back, but her eyes were sharp. “I think you do not approve.”
If Nerissa wanted assurance that Portia was not afflicted with gaming-fever, she could have it. “I loathe gaming. And now, thank heaven, Oliver has seen the error of his ways.”
“How fortunate. Many are not so wise. I fear Lord Bryght is a notorious gamester.”
“So I understand.”
Nerissa picked up a small biscuit and nibbled at it. “But handsome, you must admit.”
Portia was assailed by a vision of a naked torso and wild hair. “I suppose he is,” she admitted, for to deny it would be ludicrous. “But handsome is as handsome does.”
“You must not be so harsh about a man who is a mere acquaintance.” But the words were not a reproach. “Why do you dislike him so?”
Portia could not mention her recent grievances, so she turned to older ones. “Lord Bryght encouraged Oliver to play. I’m not sure he didn’t tease him on with small winnings so that he would lose more.”
Nerissa’s brows rose sharply. “But, my dear, you are accusing him of being a hawk!”
“Yes, I suppose I am.” But Portia was suddenly puzzled by the fact that it wasCuthbertsonwho had won in the end, not Bryght. Could there be a connection between Bryght and Cuthbertson? It seemed unlikely.
Nerissa was gurgling with laughter. “Please do not call Bryght a hawk to his face. Trelyn hates disturbances.”
“Do you not think Lord Bryght capable of such deeds?”
Nerissa’s expression cooled almost to petulance. “I think Bryght Malloren capable of anything, but if he is a hawk, I cannot imagine him hunting field mice.” She eyed Portia thoughtfully. “If you think he tried to injure your brother, however, perhaps you want revenge.”
The mood in the room had suddenly changed, and Portia didn’t know how to take Nerissa anymore. “I couldn’t get revenge against such a man,” Portia said, “nor do I wish to. I just want to avoid him.”
Nerissa’s expression reminded Portia of a stalking cat. Not a wild animal, but a sleek house cat out after mice for sport. “Women generally find Lord Bryght very attractive,” she purred.
“I do not deny that he is handsome.”
“Attractive for more than his appearance. Rumor says he is a skillful lover.”
Portia felt her face flame. “I know nothing of such things, Nerissa.”
“My dear! I speak only of flirtation in your case. Has he not flirted with you? In the park, for example?”
Portia looked down at the unsteady cup in her hands. What was behind all this? “Yes, I suppose he has flirted with me,” she muttered.
You are supple as a willow, graceful as a doe as you move in your desire.
