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S everal events had come and gone, and at almost every one, Portia had been present, holding up the wall, looking rather out of place in ill-fitting dresses in unbecoming shades of a myriad of colors, and always in the company of Miss Roseland, another wallflower if there ever was one.

Every time Titus saw Portia, unanswered questions from the past demanded attention.

Why had she blanked him all those years ago?

And continued to blank him? He’d never done anything untoward.

Quite the contrary. He’d inquired after her, written to her, had been to visit her even at the Oaks residence, but at every turn, she had ignored him.

Why do you care?

He didn’t care, he reminded himself. He wasn’t about to let her back in his life, only for her to leave him again.

Are you referring to Portia or Mother?

He was not going to try to justify his thoughts, even to himself. What he felt was curiosity and nothing more.

He’d made some confidential inquiries as to why Portia had suddenly turned up in Town after all these years. The report was short and did not sate his curiosity. He learned that she was still unmarried and residing in a rented townhouse with Lady Oaks and Miss Oaks for the duration of the Season.

Had her intended scorned her? If so, why hadn’t she entered Society previously? She was the daughter of a baron, after all, and certainly had opportunities.

Damn, why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

Always the busybody, his aunt had noticed his behavior. She had attempted to ask probing questions, but he’d managed to evade her. However, he was to dine with Aunt Adeline and his cousin this evening, and he suspected that they would team up against him, especially considering upcoming events.

In spite of all his efforts to avoid certain entertainments, the evening of the much anticipated—anticipated by his cousin, that was—masquerade was quickly approaching, and his relatives were intent on ensuring he attended.

“Tomorrow is Lady Adams’s masquerade,” Flora squealed. “I simply cannot wait. Titus, what will you go as?” she questioned, then took a bite of roast duck.

“I’m too old to dress up in a costume and?—”

“You’re never too old,” Flora scolded. “It is always great fun to dress up and pretend for an evening.”

“And what are you pretending, my dear cousin?” Titus questioned, wondering what sort of mischief Flora could be up to, and equally as important, trying to steer the topic away from himself.

“Nothing in particular.” She took a sip of Madeira, then launched into her theories.

“It is exciting and freeing to dress up and have no one know who you are, and to watch those around you while trying to guess their identity. How romantic would it be to waltz with a handsome stranger?” She ended on a dreamy sigh, as was her wont this Season.

He was about to point out that if the man was masked, how would she know if he was handsome, but then thought better of it.

Flora was romantic at heart, and not interested in some clandestine affair that would result in scandal.

Let her enjoy her silly notions. He knew all too well that those tarnished with time.

The moment he’d been anticipating arrived when his aunt stated matter-of-factly, “Lady Adams is expecting you to join us.”

“Yes, I know, and it would not serve to disappoint the very influential Lady Adams,” he replied, his words dripping with sarcasm.

“So, you do listen,” Aunt Adeline teased.

“From time to time,” he jested in return.

As much as he was not fond of London during the Season, he was enjoying this time with his family.

With each passing year, it seemed as if responsibilities demanded more of him, leaving less time for these casual visits.

He was not one to sit idle, letting his stewards run every aspect of his estates.

Quite the contrary. Titus made certain to visit each property to see firsthand how things were running, and to visit the tenants, making sure their needs were met.

“And I’m glad you’re continuing on with your father’s legacy of aiding Mr. Mann’s cause,” his aunt said, much to his surprise.

Titus had not wanted anyone to know and thought he’d kept those activities secretive.

He didn’t do what he did for recognition or accolades.

Inwardly, he sighed. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.

His aunt seemed to find out all sorts of information about him and his life.

“How did you know?”

“You’re just like your father.” Her eyes softened with affection. “Always looking out for everyone but yourself.”

Titus’s father had been the best, most caring man he’d ever known.

He hadn’t deserved the ill-treatment at the hands of his estranged wife, that was for certain.

Although he’d never said an ill word about her , Father had warranted so much more.

At the very least, he’d had a true friend in the late Lord Lamont.

The day Lord Lamont had died had been one of the most difficult for Titus’s father. It was the only time Titus had ever seen his sire cry. And the following day, things had only worsened for both himself and his papa. Without so much as a goodbye, Portia had left.

He’d respected her mourning period, then written often, but never received a reply.

Convinced that something must be wrong, he’d gone to his father with his concerns.

Without hesitation, his father had taken immediate action.

When Papa had inquired after Portia while they’d visited the new Lord Lamont, they’d been assured that Portia was enjoying her new life with his sister, Judith.

After that, Titus had no alternative but to convince himself that all that mattered was Portia’s happiness.

He’d resolved that one day, somehow, he would see her again.

But for now, he would not give her another thought.

Liar . You cannot stop thinking about her .

His earliest memories were of spending time with Portia, running through meadows, splashing through streams, and exploring the countryside while their fathers discussed all sorts of intellectual pursuits. It had been an idyllic childhood.

He forced those thoughts into the recesses of his mind and reminded himself why he’d agreed to come to Town—to assist Aunt Adeline in finding a suitable husband for Flora.

After that task was complete, he would find a new mistress, and never think about this moment in time again.

W hat she had said, Adeline reflected, was true. Titus was always looking out for everyone but himself, often disregarding his own well-being. And it had only worsened since his arrival in Town. Not only had his behavior been odd as of late, he’d been distracted, and she could not understand why.

There were no mistresses or paramours presently attached to his name.

Even the gossip about his rakish ways—although seemingly ever present—was at a minimum this Season.

His estates were prospering, and he never gambled, so money issues weren’t the source.

Flora was already a success and had several admirers, including the very respectful Mr. Edmund Lavender.

So, the question remained: what, or possibly who, had Titus so preoccupied?

T he carriage rolled along at a slow gait, matching the pace of the Season.

Titus was already counting down the days until he could retreat to the country.

He shook his head and exhaled a long sigh.

He should be enjoying the company of an opera singer, an actress, or a woman who didn’t want any attachments, but instead, he was weaving slowly through the traffic, with not even his imagination to save him from his sense of dissatisfaction.

Once the carriage finally made its way to the front of the line, Titus donned his mask and prepared himself for the latest lecture that was certain to come from his aunt.

He was nearly an hour late, for no other reason than the immense crush on the streets.

He was certain Aunt Adeline would take his delay as a sign that he didn’t want to attend Lady Adams’s masquerade—which was entirely true.

However, he had never disappointed his relatives thus far, and he wasn’t about to.

After nearly another hour searching for Adeline and Flora, he was just about to give up when he heard his aunt’s firm voice from behind. “Well, it is so pleasant of you to join us this evening.”

He sucked in his breath and turned to face the reprimand. Much to his surprise, despite the simple mask, her features were not full of anger, but concern. His inner anxieties instantly eased. “I apologize. The traffic?—”

“You needn’t apologize. I’m just happy you’re here.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but offered a smile then walked away, leaving him utterly confused.

He spent the next half hour in search of a quiet corner, trying to avoid dancing and socializing.

For reasons he could not explain, he was restless this evening.

Actually, not just restless, but done in.

Perhaps it was the gossip that had begun to circulate about his and Lady Richardson’s not-so-clandestine affair.

There was no truth in it, but it annoyed him just the same.

Or perhaps, it was the fact that he’d been on his best behavior this Season and hadn’t bedded a woman since arriving in Town.

He rolled his eyes heavenward, praying for the patience to endure what might come his way over the coming weeks.

Between the young ladies vying for his attention, their mamas lurking behind them, and the size of the crowd, Titus could not wait to leave. If he was this impatient at eight and twenty, what would he be like in his dotage?