Lady Willoughby muttered, “Well, really!”
“I am glad all will be so properly managed,” said Lord Trelyn with unexpected enthusiasm. “We will arrange it, and within the week.”
Portia felt as if she were being tangled in a web. “I willnotmarry him.”
At a pointed look from Nerissa, however, she fell silent. She was not truly accepting defeat, just postponing discussion. There could be no reason for Nerissa to be forcing this match, and once they had a moment’s conversation it could be sorted out.
“We will leave privately,” said Lord Trelyn. “Lady Willoughby, if you could arrange for our cloaks.” He turned to Bryght. “Since Miss St. Claire is cousin to my wife, I have some responsibility. I will see you tomorrow to discuss settlements?”
Bryght bowed. “I am at your service, Trelyn.” He turned to Portia and undid the brooch. When she tried to resist, he murmured, “Show some wisdom,mignon.”His face was completely unreadable, but he did not look angry or alarmed. He must already see the way out of this.
So Portia relaxed as he pinned her gown together, but she tried not to show how the light touches of his fingers sent shivers along her over-sensitized nerves.
When he’d finished, he touched his lips to hers. “We will talk later,” he said softly. “Good night, sweet wanton.”
With an ironic bow to the Trelyns he left the room.
Portia inhaled deeply, relieved to have Bryght gone. She couldn’t think straight with him in the room. Now her brain was clearing and she saw she had nothing to fear. In the calm of the morning, the unfortunate events could be explained away.
“A Malloren,” snapped Lord Trelyn. “I am most disappointed in you, Cousin Portia. For a lady under my protection to behave in such a way…”
He went on at length, and Portia decided it was wisest just to hang her head and accept the lecture. She deserved it for allowing wanton lust to overcome restraint and good sense. And for wagering. As Bryght said, it must be in her blood. She was fortunate that the consequences would not be a great deal worse.
The lecture continued in the coach all the way back to Trelyn House, but as Portia’s shock began to fade she realized some disquieting things. She suspected that Lord Trelyn was acting as he thought he should rather than speaking out of deep feeling. There was no real anger in him, and a glance caught an expression in his eyes that could have been glee.
And though Nerissa contributed a few exclamations of shock and horror, the same glance showed that she looked as content as a cream-filled cat. That could just be satisfaction with her lover, but Portia didn’t think so. The way Nerissa was looking at her was most disquieting.
But why would Portia’s disgrace so please these two? She had done nothing to hurt them. On the other hand, Nerissa had certainly felt spiteful toward Bryght Malloren.
Once back at Trelyn House, Portia was sent to her bed rather like a naughty child, but she was pleased enough to escape.
As she prepared for bed, she berated herself for foolishness. She had thought she could control her wanton nature, but she knew that only Lord Trelyn’s arrival had saved her from true ruin. She would never be so foolish again.
She had to accept that her normally sensible body turned mad in the arms of Bryght Malloren. Even now, a small part of her was hoping the dreadful marriage would come to pass so she could taste the full cup of passion.
She suddenly imagined Bryght Malloren, naked, here in her bed, awaiting her….
Oh, this was ridiculous!
She settled into the warm empty bed, assuring herself that she wanted nothing whatever to do with Bryght Malloren, notorious rake and gamester.
Then you should have stopped kissing him when you’d paid your debt, shouldn’t you?
Portia turned and beat her pillow into shape, wishing she could beat her conscience into the form that suited her.
And you never would have fallen into this predicament if you hadn’t allowed yourself to be lured into a wager.
And that was true. Bryght had trapped her like the hawk he was, leading her to believe that she was sure to win, and thus tempting her to wager far more than she should.
“I will never wager again,” she said out loud. “Never.”
With that settled she had to face the consequences of her folly. For this brief moment, she was betrothed to Bryght Malloren. She squashed a spurt of excitement and reminded herself that the one thing she required in a husband was that he be trustworthy, and certainly not a gamester.
Not even a handsome gamester who could drive her mad with a touch.
No one could force her into marriage. There was no pressure that would make her go willingly, and Lord Hardwick’s Act of ten years past had outlawed force. These days, marriages had to be properly solemnized in a sanctioned place, and all parties had to be clearly willing.
As her nerves steadied, Portia laughed a little at her folly. What did she fear? Bryght Malloren drugging her and dragging her to the altar? He must be as dismayed as she at their situation. It was just possible that he wanted a brief affair with her, but he could have no desire to be legally tied to a plain and penniless spinster.
