That done, she quickly packed her boxes. Then, while the men were carrying them down, she retrieved the coins from behind the fireplace. They would provide some security and independence.
And what of the money Bryght Malloren had said he would put in a bank for her? She wanted that money, but she did not want to deal with Bryght to get it. She certainly couldn’t ask Lord Trelyn’s help, for then she would have to explain where it had come from.
When her box was carried out, Portia looked around the dismal rooms and sighed with relief. Dresden Street had contained little but worry and pain, but in well-guarded Trelyn House she would be safe. As she traveled back to the Trelyn mansion, however, seated on satin, and with an embroidered footstool for her feet, Portia was fretted by anxieties.
On the surface matters seemed excellent. She would be companion to Nerissa. She would listen to her chatter, share her needlework and other pastimes, and go with her to the quieter kind of social event. It would only be for a few days, anyway.
Oliver would soon return, a member of the King’s Army. Fort would pay the odious Major Barclay. Portia would return to Dorset and her former life.
Everything was arranging itself at last.
So why was she sitting upright with her hands clasped, instead of lounging back, at ease?
And why, when the coach rolled into the railed courtyard in front of the Trelyn’s house, and the great gilded gates clanged shut behind her, did Portia feel as if she were being delivered to a prison instead of to a place of refuge?
If it was a prison, it was a luxurious one. Portia was given a charming bedroom, though in typical cool shades, and a small boudoir. The rooms were scattered with valuableobjets d’artes,and the handsome white-draped bed was decorated with knots and bandings of rich silver cord.
Two maids busied themselves in putting away Portia’s clothes and other possessions.
Nerissa, dressed now in her usual public wear of elegant white, came to observe. “I hope you can bear these rooms, Cousin. I’m afraid the whole house is quite plain. I am trying to persuade Trelyn to indulge a little more in color, but thus far I have only been successful with my own rooms.”
“It is very elegant.”
Nerissa pouted. “But so dull.”
Portia wanted to ask her cousin why she had married Lord Trelyn when they had so little in common, but it would be impertinent. Since the aristocracy seemed to marry for advantage, doubtless personal tastes did not enter into it.
“Now,” said Nerissa, “if you are settled, we will go out. I am sure there are any number of items you need, and I have been pining for such a trip. A man is a tedious shopping companion.”
“Lord Trelyn likes to accompany you to the shops?” Portia asked in surprise as she took her light cloak out of an armoire.
“The dear creature will hardly let me out of his sight! But he has agreed that we shall go today without his escort, for he must be at the House. Something very dull to do with the country’s debt.”
“Dear Lord. Is the whole country in debt?”
Nerissa laughed. “Oh, my dear, if you wish to discuss such matters, you must ask Trelyn. But I gather war is expensive. There is something called a sinking fund which sounds most alarming, though I am told it is a good thing. Now, are you ready? Why, what a pretty pelerine. It suits your hair and eyes quite marvelously.”
Portia followed Nerissa down to the coach thinking wistfully that Oliver would have been pleased to hear that.
The shopping trip was unlike anything Portia had experienced in her life. It seemed that Nerissa bought everything that caught her eye and that she must do so frequently, for she was well-known everywhere. She was trailed through a succession of establishments by adoring sales clerks and groveling proprietors.
It was as much a social occasion as a mercantile one. Nerissa was constantly encountering people and stopping to embrace, introduce, and share scraps of gossip—some of it quite scandalous. Portia uneasily remembered her visit to the park, and her sense of corruption in Society. She could not like it, but since most of the people they mingled with now were ladies, at least there was no impropriety.
There were some men around, however.
As they were leaving a silk warehouse, a very tall man bowed and Nerissa stopped rather abruptly. “Lord Heatherington.” Her voice turned husky. “What a surprise to see you here. You have need of silks and satins? Pockets, perhaps?”
The handsome, dark-haired gentleman bowed low over her hand. “Who could have need of anything when you are by, dear lady?”
Nerissa gave her distinctive gurgling laugh. “What flattery, my lord. Come, let me present you to my cousin, Miss Portia St. Claire. She is to stay with us for a while and accompany me. Is that not delightful?”
Lord Heatherington bowed over Portia’s gloved hand. “A pleasure, Miss St. Claire.” He was already turning back to Nerissa. “A charming child. I’m sure she will prove useful.”
“Portia is a little older than me, my lord,” Nerissa chided with a laugh. “Her apparent youth is but her delicate size and her naiveté. She is fresh from the country.”
Lord Heatherington turned to study Portia with a raised brow. “That makes a difference, dear lady. I adore anything or anyone fresh from the country….”
Portia shuddered, reminded of the night before.
