Page 93

“Thank you, Mr. Hale.” Portia didn’t know what else to say. She was lacking in conversational skills with… well, anyone besides Albert and the twins.

Not with Titus .

That was different. They’d been childhood friends. But that had been a long time ago. Sadness weighed down her insides. That was a long time ago. She’d since lost her friend, when he’d decided not to write back, when her life had changed so much, and not for the better.

And just as quickly as Titus had been there, he was gone, leaving her with a renewed ache in her heart.

By the time the ball came to a close, she was more than ready to return to their rented townhouse and retire to the quiet of her chamber. But it would seem her half-sister was just getting started.

“Your performance tonight was better, but still greatly lacking.” Judith stared into the distance for countless seconds before she enlightened Portia with more of her thoughts.

“Men like compliments, for women to hang on their every word, and to always know they are right. If we’re to secure you a husband soon, you have to do better. ”

Portia was about to state that the Season was just beginning, then thought better of it.

It was obvious that Judith was intent on marrying her off to the first person who offered.

She didn’t know whether she was thankful or not for having such a paltry dowry.

One thing was for certain, time was of the essence.

P ortia is in London.

What was she doing here? The last time he’d seen her was when her father died.

She was fifteen, no longer a girl but not quite a woman, and the love of his life.

And then she was gone. He’d written often, inquired after her, even attempted to see her.

That visit had ended in heartache. Then, several years later, he’d heard she was about to marry.

All this time, he’d convinced himself it was for the best, that she was happy in the country with a brood of children, their friendship forgotten.

But here she was, gliding across the dance floor in the arms of Mr. Hale.

And then their eyes had met.

Emotions he’d ignored and buried started to percolate.

He had not the patience or time for them.

He was determined they would stay buried.

What he needed was a distraction from the thoughts slowly rising from the past. He turned to take his leave when he came face to face with another person that he had not the patience for.

“Lord Ravensworth, it has been far too long,” Lady Richardson said as she trailed a single finger down the length of his arm. The sultry widow had been a one-time bed companion, but she’d proved far too needy in her attentions.

“I am not interested?—”

“Men are always interested.” Her gaze traveled over his face before descending down his chest, and lower still, before her dark brown eyes drifted up, meeting his gaze with hungry intensity. “And I happen to excel at what interests them.”

He sucked in his breath, understanding her meaning loud and clear, but he had no intention of restarting a liaison with the voluptuous widow.

He had other things to consider, namely his cousin.

He would in no way jeopardize her first season by stirring gossip about his paramours.

He could last one season without bedding a woman.

Without further engagement, he turned from Lady Richardson in search of his relatives. A short time later, he spied Flora wrapped up in a lively conversation with Miss Lillian. At least his cousin appeared to be enjoying the evening.

Now was his chance to take his leave.

“Why does it look like you want to murder someone?” Lord Jagger, one of his closest friends, questioned as he strolled up beside him.

“A nuisance from the past has reared its tempting head.”

“Who might that be?” Jagger looked about the room, then added, “A past lover? Or one who would?—”

“None of your business,” Titus growled. Jagger might be one of his closest friends, but there were some details about his life he did not share. And then, without another word, he took his leave. He had more important business to attend to this evening.

Hours later, with a carriage full of supplies, he entered a part of Town he was very familiar with, albeit one that most of the ton did not frequent.

Even in daylight, the streets were narrow and dark, and staleness filled the air.

But at night, an added element of danger lurked within the shadows.

His driver stopped just on the edge where the thoroughfare became too narrow for a larger conveyance.

Titus alighted the carriage and was greeted by Mr. Mann, a kindly elderly man who thought there was much good in the world to still be done.

Titus’s father had believed much the same.

His dearest papa had instilled in him that it was their duty to help those less fortunate and encouraged him to seek those out who could aid their cause.

Mr. Mann ran a ring of men and women dedicated to helping children off the streets.

“Even’ing, me lord. Another deliv’ry?” Mr. Mann questioned as he approached the carriage.

Titus glanced about, ensuring no one was nearby.

There were few people around at this time of night—or rather, very early morning, but he would take no chances.

He chose his time carefully so his actions would go unseen.

He was passionate about this cause, but he didn’t want praise for it just the same.

“Yes, a full one. You know the routine.”

“Yes, me lord. The children surely need these things,” Mr. Mann said as he patted the side of the conveyance.

“And remember, no one is to know who these items are from.” Titus did not give to those less fortunate so others would know. He gave because he believed it was his duty to provide for those who could not provide for themselves.

“Of course,” Mr. Mann said. “And I wanted to thank you again for helpin’ my son.”

“How is Joseph doing?”

“Doin’ very good, thanks to you. His apprenticeship is going well.” The pride in the older man’s voice said much.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Young Joseph had been a bit of a wild card, but Titus had seen potential in the lad, and had arranged for him to apprentice with a blacksmith. “Take care, Mr. Mann. I’ll be around in a few weeks.” And with that, he took his leave.