“Ah,” she replied, leaning on the windowsill. “The things we do for appearances.”
Justin didn’t reply. Instead, he sucked in another deep lungful of sweet-smelling smoke from the pipe. The days were growing longer and warmer. London would slowly be emptying out as the wealthy aristocrats fled to their country estates and the middle classes went in search of holiday lets near the ocean. But London was also alight in the summer for those whostayed, with packed pubs spilling out onto the streets, musical performances in parks, and the jaunty lower classes making fun where they could. With all the upper crust gone, the city let its hackles down a little.
Thinking about London made him feel as though an invisible string was pulling him back there, to his home and family.
And what about Cordelia?
He responded to that question by stuffing the pipe between his teeth and lighting the bowl again.
“So what was the treasure, anyway?” Portia questioned, looking at him intently. She seemed to have let go of some of her hostility. Her face appeared less hard; her blue eyes were wide as she cocked her head.
“Did Cordelia not tell you?” he asked, realizing too late that he’d used her Christian name without the title, usually reserved only for close friends and husbands. Of which, he was neither.
Portia seemed unfazed by the mistake. “She was quite stunned from the entire afternoon, I think.”
“Well,” he added, “she was pinned under a floorboard for a healthy amount of time.”
He did not expect it, but Portia began to laugh. It started as something she tried to disguise with a cough, but then her entire body began to shake. The soft peals of laughter filled the otherwise silent library. At first, it grated on Justin’s nerves, but then, realizing the ridiculousness of it all, he joined in, shaking his head.
“Goodness,” Portia said, catching her breath, “I might assure you that our family really isn’t this odd and we’ve had a recent run of bad luck… but that would be an utter lie.”
“Lady Prudence did mention your family to be eccentric,” Justin said, remembering to remove the pipe before he spoke. “The day I was due to leave London my sister brought one of her articles over. Perhaps I should have paid closer attention.”
Portia’s eyes flashed with their usual mischief. “We do have a reputation amongst our peers. I am supposed to be the silent beauty, and Cordelia was always the unavailable pretty one.”
“Unavailable? How do you mean?”
“Well, Cordelia likes to use her manners as a form of armor. Plus Rhys always had at least one eye on her, even if the other eye had plans of its own. It was enough to keep potential admirers away. She’s earned a reputation of having an icy constitution.”
“What utter hogwash,” Justin muttered.
That raised Portia’s eyebrows. “You disagree?”
He was rattled for a moment before swallowing. “Well,” he started. “Getting to know her over these past weeks…”
Portia just smiled slyly. “I swear that everyone who meets that girl for longer than two days falls utterly in love with her. It’s either a blessing or a curse.”
“Is that so? You’re fond of curses yourself, Lady Portia,” Justin said, trying to steer the subject away from talk of love.
“Perhaps it’s because I’ve also been cursed,” she said quietly.
Justin immediately guessed at what she was referring. When first meeting the Nichols girls, Portia had immediately stood out as a classic beauty, with her sandy curls and blue eyes. If it weren’t for her affliction, perhaps she would have been married off a long time ago. Or maybe not… she seemed to be opposed to the idea of any friendship beyond that of her sisters.
“Well, speaking as one cursed person to another,” Justin said, “if you keep pushing ahead, usually things turn out as they should.”
“I gather there’s no treasure then?” Portia asked, taking another sip of brandy.
He shook his head. “No, only a stack of letters.”
“Truly!”
“From your eldest half-brother to the late duke. Apparently I have your father to thank for my education and officer’s commission. Basically, my entire life.”
Portia blew out a long breath as she digested the news.
“It appears the enduring mystery is to why,” he said.
Portia shrugged her shoulders. “It does not seem a secret to me. Father was so very disappointed when Charles died… erm… went away. Will was a good man but would have been a complete disaster as a duke. I’d rather think he was hedging his bets, making sure that any child of my brother’s would have had enough learning and brains to take up the Rothesay mantle.”
