Page 33 of The Music of Love

Serena kissed both her cheeks before picking up Portia’s bag and leading her into the small foyer. “You look wonderful, darling.”

“Very droll. I’ve been cooped up in a coach for days—I look dreadful.” She hung up her traveling cloak and stripped off her gloves as Serena led her toward the ground floor sunroom that was just off the back garden.

“Tea will be ready shortly,” Serena said, ushering Portia into the room.

“Where are the others?” Portia asked, collapsing into a comfortable old wingback chair.

Serena took the settee across from her and curled her legs beneath her. “You just missed Honoria, who left yesterday to go to the Viscount Fowler’s country estate, and Freddie received an emergency message from her current young lady—something about a bonnet—but she’ll return this evening.”

Portia tucked her gloves into her reticule and tossed it onto the side table. “And how is Oliver?”

Serena’s eyes sparkled at the mention of her nine-year-old son’s name. “He is visiting his grandparents right now.” Serena’s husband, who died during the War, had been the Duke of Remington’s youngest son. “He’ll be sorry he missed you. Honey was, too, and said to give you her love.”

“I’m sorry to have missed both of them. I wish I could have given more notice of my visit, but I simply didn’t have the time.”

“Ah yes, your new position.” Serena grinned. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet about that. I warn you; I’m going to winkle every little detail from you.”

Which is just what Portia was worried about.

Thankfully the door opened and a maid entered with the tray. “Let me,” Portia said before Serena—who made dreadful tea—could offer. “What have you been up to since we last spoke? I wouldn’t know—since you never answer my letters.”

Serena grimaced. “Ah, yes, my dreadful letter-writing skills. But I know Freddie tells you everything you need to know, so I don’t want to make you pay for more of the same.”

Freddie’s weekly letters were the glue that held their small circle together. The others in their group were indifferent correspondents, although none of them was as bad as their friend Miles. Lorelei wrote often, but her letters were brief to the point of being terse. Portia suspected her situation was not precisely happy and that was why she didn’t speak of it.

“Besides,” Serena said, “My life is so tedious there simply isn’t that much to tell.”

“But Freddie said you had a commission to design a bier or catafalque, or some such thing.”

Serena snorted and waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, that, yes—a marble bier for a mausoleum, an item few people will ever see.” She shrugged. “But it will pay enough to put food on the table and keep Oliver in automata.”

Portia grinned. “Is he still taking them apart?”

“Yes, but at least now he puts them all back together.”

Portia heard the pride in her voice. Oliver was only nine years old but he was a clever little boy who seemed wise beyond his years.

“But what you are talking about is work, my friend. What I was talking about was love and life.” Serena smirked as she took the cup and saucer Portia handed her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Portia’s tea slopped over the side of the cup and into the saucer. Before the other woman could answer her question she asked, “Has Freddie been keeping you busy?”

Serena chuckled at the clumsy change of subject but did not pursue it. “She has indeed. It has been rather busy for dear Freddie and she has several very wealthy—but not particularly promising—young ladies.”

Portia made a moue of distaste. Freddie—an earl’s widow—had been the deportment instructor at the academy. Now she used her skills and connections to launch wealthy young women into Society.

“Freddie is good at what she does, but I don’t think such work is good for her soul.” Serena was no longer smiling.

Portia sipped her tea. “No, she is too sensitive to engage in commerce.”

“Not like us,” Serena said with a smile.

The door opened and the lady in question entered. The Countess of Sedgwick was tall and slender with the silvery blond beauty of an arctic fox. Her lovely face became even lovelier when she smiled. “Portia, how wonderful to see you. How was your journey? Exhausting?”

“I was tired, but a few moments in Serena’s company was enough to reinvigorate me.”

Serena laughed. “I haven’t even begun being invigorating, darling.” She cut the countess a sly look. “Tell us about your employer, darling, Freddie says he is very, very interesting.”

Portia knew she was blushing but decided she was too tired to care.