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As she brushed past him, she requested in a hushed tone, “I need your help. Meet me near the grotto.” And then she added, “Please Titus.”

T itus watched with curious eyes as Portia strolled across the lawn toward him. Although the dress she wore was quite out of fashion, she was still a vision in pale lavender. Did she not own anything that properly fit her? A long silk Grecian gown with her golden blonde hair flowing?—

Stop thinking about her. And especially stop thinking about how her blonde hair glistens in the afternoon sun or…

Stop!

For weeks she’d been avoiding him, and now, with half the ton present, she was walking his way. The only reason he’d attended today was to search for his mystery woman, not to resurrect the past.

And then, Portia was brushing past him, stirring up those painful memories. He looked the other way as she spoke, trying not to hear her, to care. He didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with the rejection all over again. First Mother, then Portia .

“I need your help. Meet me near the grotto.” He could have ignored her request, but when she said, “Please Titus”, those two words were his undoing.

What sort of trouble had she landed herself in? And, why hadn’t she gone to her half-sister about it?

For one brief moment, he thought to stay put, but despite everything that had happened, he still didn’t want any harm to come to her.

A long time ago, she had been his closest friend.

His head went back as he looked up into the cloudless sky.

A sigh of frustration coursed through his body.

His search for his mystery goddess would have to wait.

He waited a moment, and then with caution, proceeded, heading in the direction of the grotto. He passed several lawn activities and various groups of guests. Everyone appeared to be enjoying the day, and thankfully, were taking no notice of his actions.

A short time later, as he neared the grotto, a faint hint of lavender and lemon drifted through the air, reminding him of a sensuous waltz and passionate kiss. And just as quickly, the scent drifted away, teasing him with what he could not have. Was his mystery goddess nearby?

“Thank you for coming, Titus.” Portia’s words broke the spell.

What was so urgent that Portia required his assistance when he should be following the scent? He inwardly shook his head. The goddess of his dreams would not be concealing herself in the grotto. Was he so desperate to find the lady that he was now imagining things?

Folding his arms, he kept his distance. “Are you in trouble?” His tone probably sounded harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t help it.

“Judith wants me to marry Lord Webber, but I don’t want to and… I don’t know what to do.” Her words were shaky, almost desperate, as they tried to penetrate through the betrayal of the past.

Lord Webber was obnoxious and disagreeable, and Titus could understand her aversion to such a match, but… “What do you expect me to do?” The words escaped his mouth without thought.

Portia lowered her gaze for a moment, then shuffled from one foot to the other. I see that trait is just the same . “I… I thought you could offer advice.” She worried her bottom lip. “I… I have no connections in Town and?—”

“And you thought to use me?”

“No,” she insisted as her eyes met his. Although her face was partially hidden in shadow, he could see her sincerity. She remained silent for long seconds before she murmured, “No. I only thought you might be able to advise me. I…I thought we were friends.”

Sincere or not, the protective layer around his hardened heart dictated the following response.

“We used to be friends, Miss Lamont, but much has changed.” And with that, he took his leave, not waiting for a reply, or more likely, the excuses that would certainly follow.

Women always had an excuse when breaking your heart.

First his mother, then Portia. He did not want to suffer again.

He didn’t know if he could survive another rejection by her.

W e used to be friends .

The words echoed in her mind, piercing her heart with each reverberation.

We used to be friends. What had she done to earn such hatred from him?

He wasn’t the Titus she remembered, the one who’d talked with her for hours at a time, the one who’d consoled her when she’d learned of her father’s illness, the one who’d given her hope when her world had been crumbling.

She stood in the grotto, too stunned and hurt to do anything else.

She was certain that if she moved, she would collapse and start to cry.

Long aching minutes passed before she felt somewhat recovered enough to rejoin the garden party.

But within seconds of nearing the other guests, age-old insecurities rose to the surface as whispers seemed to follow her.

Did they suspect? Did they know that Titus had refused to aid her? Did they know that Judith was practically forcing her to marry Lord Webber? Did they know how truly hopeless she currently felt?

She dashed across the lawn, rushing through the crowds and into the house in search of a quiet place to wait until Judith decided it was time to leave.

She made her way down the hall in the direction of the ladies’ retiring room.

No sooner had she opened the door than she heard her half-sister’s voice.

“…yes, in fact, Lady Whitaker was…” Portia quickly retreated, thankfully unseen.

That was too close . She had not expected to find Judith and Hilarie gossiping with Lady Baldwin. What was it about the retiring room that seemed to bring out the tittle-tattling in women?

Not knowing where to go, but knowing she shouldn’t return in the direction she’d come, she rushed farther down the hall, finding an open door that led into an unoccupied room.

She dashed inside, then pressed herself against the wall as voices from the corridor echoed towards her. She thought to close the door but didn’t want anyone to accuse her of subterfuge, or worse, stealing.

Minutes passed, and only the sound of her heart pounding in her chest filled her ears. She breathed out a long sigh, and slowly peeled herself away from the wall, taking in her surroundings for the first time.

The room was quite elegant in shades of cream with rich accents in gold and red, but intimate just the same.

In between the portraits that hung on the wall were small still-life paintings of exceptional quality.

Vases filled with beautiful floral arrangements graced the various tables.

She took in a deep breath, inhaling the fragrant, calm surroundings.

Soon her heart returned to a normal pace and her anxiety subsided slightly.

Running her clammy hands down the front of her dress, she took her time gathering her senses, smoothing her hair back and tucking in strands that had come loose in her hasty dash across the lawn.

Even without a mirror, she felt she was presentable.

She was used to not having a looking-glass anyway.

She supposed it was one good thing about her accommodations both here and back at the Oaks’s residence.

She’d never had the opportunity to indulge in vanity.

Before she could make the decision to leave her sanctuary, a very elegant lady strolled into the room.

“Good afternoon, Miss Lamont,” she greeted with a warm smile that eased Portia’s nerves just a little. Just a little was still better than what she’d been feeling a moment ago. “I’m Lady Whitby.”

The name sounded somewhat familiar, but she couldn’t quite place where or why.

She’d been introduced to so many people over the past weeks, plus heard all the names of people Judith and Hilarie continually gossiped about, and she couldn’t remember who was who.

That, or her nerves were strangling her memory and getting the better of her. It was probably the latter.

She swallowed hard. “G…good afternoon, Lady Whitby. I… I was just…”

Kind words flowing from Lady Whitby’s mouth interrupted her faltering. “I saw you rushing into the house and was concerned that you had taken ill. It is a common affliction on this rather warm day.”

The woman had offered Portia the perfect excuse. She could have very easily agreed and said she was feeling under the weather and that would be that, but Lady Whitby’s kind eyes and pleasant smile told her that she could trust her. How much she could—or rather should—reveal was another question.

Inwardly, she shook her head. Was she so desperate for kindness that she was willing to trust a complete stranger?

She closed her eyes for a brief moment and the empty loneliness that had been consuming her surfaced once again. Yes, she was that desperate .

“I… It is rather warm, but…” She sucked in her breath, then started to confess. “But there’s so much more.” She’d barely spoken the words when hot tears pooled in the corner of her eyes.

Don’t cry, please, not again .

Once again, Lady Whitby’s soothing voice broke through the turmoil disrupting her being.

“Oh, my dear, there’s no need to discuss what’s troubling you today.

” She stepped in closer and took Portia’s hand within her own, offering comfort.

“It’s my niece’s first Season, too. It can be overwhelming.

” She offered a lovely smile, then, much to Portia’s utter surprise, she extended an invitation.

“Please join my niece and me in two days’ time for tea.

I have it on good authority that Lady Oaks and her daughter will be engaged elsewhere. ”

“You’re inviting me for tea?” Portia said, surprised again by the kindness being shown to her.

“Of course, Miss Lamont. It would be a great pleasure to know you better. And do not concern yourself with your relatives.”

“I would be honored.”

It was almost as if Lady Whitby had arranged for her relatives to be occupied elsewhere. Portia was not about to question the whys and wherefores, but instead, seized the opportunity to have an outing without Judith and Hilarie.

T he day had started off pleasantly enough.

Adeline was looking forward to the garden party at her friend’s home, Flora looked lovely in her new pelisse, and she had yet to have an argument with her nephew.

The latter was causing her the most grief as of late.

Even before the masquerade, Titus had not been himself, but ever since that evening, something had changed.

Holding true to form, he’d been unwilling to unburden his thoughts or feelings.

She suspected it had to do with a woman, but which one?

And then the answer was handed to Adeline.

She’d watched from a distance as Miss Lamont had approached Titus and then dash off in the direction of the grotto.

A few minutes later, Titus had followed.

Fearing there would be gossip, Adeline went after the pair.

Her intention was innocent, she kept reassuring herself.

She would only intervene if there was scandal afoot.

Although she’d never met her, she was familiar with Miss Portia Lamont. The late Lord Lamont had been her eldest brother’s nearest neighbor and closest friend in the country.

After Portia’s mother had passed away when the child was not yet three, Lord Lamont and his daughter had spent much time at Ravensworth.

Adeline’s brother, William, had often written to her about how wonderful it was for Titus to have a playmate.

As the two had grown older, her brother had expressed his hope for a match between the pair.

Adeline knew that Portia had been sent away to live with one of her half-sisters after her father died, but it wasn’t until William and Titus tried to visit the Oaks that she’d learnt more of the situation.

William had confided in her that he believed Portia was most unhappy, explaining that he suspected the reason she hadn’t come downstairs to see them was fear of earning her half-sister’s wrath.

It hadn’t made any sense to William at the time, and he had fully intended to investigate the matter, but then he’d taken ill and passed away all within a span of a couple of weeks.

The family had been devastated. Titus had never mentioned his childhood friend, but Adeline suspected there was more there than met the eye.

Her suspicions were confirmed as Titus’s words tore at her heart. “We used to be friends, Miss Lamont, but much has changed.”

Adeline would not let this chance slip away, intending to get to the bottom of the situation.

If her instinct was correct, the two were destined to be together.

Now all she had to do was arrange a situation with her nephew to test her theory.

First, she needed to discover the source of his reluctance.