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T itus had enjoyed a casual dinner with his aunt and cousin, although all through the meal, he could not escape the suspicion that his aunt was holding her tongue. When they retired to the parlor, he discovered the full extent of how much she was holding back.

No sooner than had he taken his seat than she blatantly questioned, “What is your aversion to marriage?”

Flora watched with curious eyes, clearly interested in what he would say next. He didn’t want to dash his aunt’s hopes for a blissful match, but would not lie to her just the same. He had his reasons and would not discuss the wounding details; he would keep to the most obvious facts.

“None of the Beaumont men have been lucky in marriage,” he stated as his mother’s betrayal raged through him, solidifying the argument in his mind.

“That’s not true,” his aunt argued back as she pointed an elegant finger at him as if to emphasize her point. “Arthur and Tabitha were most happy and in love.”

His annoyance rose as he tried to justify his position. “And they both died in a carriage accident. I hardly call that a success.”

“That was tragic, but they were most happy while alive.” His aunt narrowed her gaze, eyeing him intently. “When did you become so cynical?”

Then the confession poured from his mouth without thought.

“When my mother deserted Father and me for her lover.” And it climaxed when the person I thought was a friend, part of my soul, turned her back on me, and it has only worsened since she had the audacity to try and use me to help her this Season.

He was finished with this conversation. He would not discuss the past, not when he’d worked so hard to bury, to forget, to not feel.

He stood, and bowed his head to his relatives. “I wish you a good evening, Aunt Adeline, Flora.”

“Titus, don’t go,” Flora said.

“Titus, please—” Aunt Adeline started pleading, but halted her sentence when Titus turned around with a harsh glare.

He was not going to argue. Without another word, he swung back around and took his leave, as was his wont as of late. Why couldn’t the past stay buried?

A ll through the next day, Titus could not escape festering over the conversation he’d had with his aunt the previous evening, and for reasons he did not want to admit. He knew his mind and his heart. Knew precisely why he would not risk his heart again.

But then there’s your mysterious goddess. She could be different. She could perhaps erase the heartache of the past .

But what if she couldn’t? Could he take that chance?

Anxious tension continued to course through his thoughts, filtering into his every action. If he could only find her , then perhaps the answer would be clear.

Do you really want to place your happiness in the hands of another woman?

There it was, there was no doubt about it. He was headed for Bedlam. No sane man could possibly have these continuous warring thoughts storming through every inch of his being. Why was he still so at odds with himself after so many years of successfully burying the past?

By the time he entered Lady Baldwin’s residence, he was in a foul mood.

All he wanted to do was find her , or at the very least, bury his woes in a stiff drink, but instead, he found himself on the cusp of enduring an unpleasant evening all because of obligation.

Why Aunt Adeline and Flora had accepted this invitation was beyond him.

His mood continued to deteriorate as the evening progressed. Not only had he yet to discover the identity of his masked goddess, he could not stop thinking about Portia. Why could he not stop thinking about her?

You feel guilty for not coming to her aid when she practically pleaded , his conscience nagged.

She wasn’t his responsibility.

You still care for her .

That is beside the point! his heart and mind argued.

Is it?

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Portia dancing. No, not just dancing, but smiling and having a wonderful time with her partner. She appeared so calm and at ease with the man.

As she was with you at one time .

Who was the young chap?

A foreign sensation crept up from the depths of his gut. What could… No, it could not be… Jealousy?

What did he have to be jealous of? He was wealthy, with relatively good looks. He was not lacking for anything. He could have any woman he wanted, and had. There was nothing for him to be envious of. Her affairs were her own and didn’t involve him.

Obligation or not, he needed to get away from this place. He would not be made a fool of again.

P ortia didn’t care if she got an earful from Judith later that evening.

It was more important to avoid Lord Webber and earn Judith’s wrath, than to have said lord believe she was accepting his pursuit.

She’d yet to catch the eye of another gentleman, not to mention no other had appealed to her, and time was running out.

Titus . His name whispered across her thoughts, but she quickly dismissed it. She could not dwell on what could never be.

Thankfully for her, Judith and Hilarie were preoccupied with the unveiling of the portrait of Miss Baldwin commemorating her nineteenth birthday.

Some of the guests had filtered into the main gallery where the portrait hung, but many stayed in the ballroom and continued to dance.

Portia did not know if this was how things were done in Town but it seemed rather odd to her.

Then again, Lord and Lady Baldwin and their only child were rather odd.

She did not care for the family, their gossiping ways, or their belief that they were above reproach.

Pressed against the wall, she scanned the room, wondering what the appeal of all this extravagance was, when out of the corner of her eye she spotted a familiar figure she would recognize anywhere.

“Albert,” she called as she rushed to her nephew’s side.

“Portia! I was hoping to see you.” Her nephew’s joyful greeting was music to her ears. Oh, how she’d missed him.

“You are the last person I expected to see here this evening. What are you doing in Town?” Although he’d written to the family often, it had been a couple of years since she’d seen him. He’d grown into such a tall, handsome man.

“I’m here with a friend. We’re traveling to Sussex to visit his grandfather and decided to stay a night in London.

” Ever since Albert had been sent away to school, he’d always found a reason to not return to his parents’ home, often spending holidays with friends or his paternal grandmother.

She could certainly understand his reasons.

Albert nodded his head to where a couple was standing.

“That’s Chapman over there, with his sister, Jane.

She is out this Season and he wanted to see how she is faring. ”

“Speaking of sisters, have you seen Hilarie, or your mother?” Portia asked as she glanced about, looking for the two women in question. She did not want to be accused of withholding information… again.

Albert scrunched his nose in disgust. “No, and I don’t care to.” She was about to comment when he spoke up, “And don’t tell me I should. I have never got on well with either, and never cared for how Mother treated you.”

Portia had always kept her complaints regarding her half-siblings to herself, and had never wanted any of the children to choose sides. However, once they were old enough, it had been hard for them not to notice how she was treated.

Whereas Albert stood up for Portia, Hilarie always sought opportunities to throw Portia under the carriage wheel.

Even the twins had noticed from an early age how she was treated.

They were only five years old when they’d first defended her honor, demanding Hilarie speak to Portia with more kindness and to not be so mean.

Her half-brother-in-law had thought it a lark and dismissed the twins’ protests, but Judith had scolded the boys fiercely and forbade them from playing outdoors for two days.

From that moment on, they’d been loyal to Portia.

“You deserve all the happiness in the world, Portia.” Albert’s warm, caring words touched her heart.

“So do you, my darling, so do you.” In that moment, Portia did not feel so alone, quite the contrary. She might not have many prospects, but she was loved by Albert and the twins, and that was a most precious gift.

Albert offered his arm, and said, “Would you care to dance?” He leaned in and said, “You were always my favorite dance partner.”

It seemed as if it were ages ago when Portia had first taught Albert to dance. He’d proved to be a natural dancer, so graceful on his feet. “I would be honored.”

Portia could not remember the last time she’d enjoyed herself this much. She felt much more herself with her nephew, and all her worries faded for a brief moment. But it was not to last as thoughts of a night not too long ago, and a beautiful waltz, crept into her mind.

The masquerade .

No , she inwardly shook her head. She would not think about that night, not now. It had been a single night where she’d experienced a magical kiss, but nothing more would ever come of it.

Over the years, she’d become a master at stamping down her feelings, and she would continue to do so. She would just enjoy the Season and hope for the best. At least she had tea with Lady Whitby and her niece to look forward to tomorrow.

P ortia was excited about visiting Lady Whitby and her niece, and equally pleased that Judith and Hilarie were engaged elsewhere. She hadn’t bothered to tell them what her plans for the day were, and vice versa.

Somehow, Lady Whitby had information that Judith and Hilarie had another engagement.

Portia had no idea how the countess knew, as she herself had learned from one of the servants that mother and daughter were spending the morning at the modiste before attending luncheon with Lady Baldwin.

But whomever Lady Whitby’s sources were, they were correct.