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CHAPTER TWO

Portia stood before the entrance to Aunt Winifred’s drawing room, dressed in her favorite copper muslin day dress, her hair gathered in a loose chignon. She rested her hand on the black, rose-shaped knob.

What would her aunt say when she learned Edward had taken such liberties with his ward? Winifred might very well summon him that very instant and demand that he do the gentlemanly thing and marry her.

It had only been a kiss.

Her aunt had to understand that. It was not as if the Earl of Martin had caught them in a scandalous state of undress. If Lord Martin held his tongue, no one needed to know what she’d done.

She lifted her hand from the knob. Maybe she shouldn’t tell her aunt. It would only cause tension in the house.

She started to turn when the door opened revealing Aunt Winifred sitting at a table in the middle of the room. She smiled and gestured for Portia to join her.

Portia reluctantly walked inside and took a seat. The room was silent except for the incessant chirping of the birds perched on the branches outside the window.

“I received a very interesting letter this morning,” Winifred said, lifting a rose-patterned teacup to her lips. “From Mrs. Violet.”

Portia clutched the fabric of her gown beneath the table. It could not be a coincidence that the same woman who had flirted with Edward, the same woman Portia had feared learning about her rendezvous with her guardian, had written to her aunt.

“According to Mrs. Violet,” Winifred continued, “The Earl of Martin caught you swooning in your guardian’s arms.”

Portia’s mouth filled with a sour tang. “You know how Mrs. Violet likes to tell tales.” She forced a chuckle. “Do you remember how she once claimed the young Miss Celia stole her mother’s pearls?”

Mrs. Violet didn’t seem to care if what she said was true, but languished in the attention her gossip mongering brought her. Debutantes feared her nearly as much as the men of the ton feared Mr. North.

Edward.

What would he say when he learned that Mrs. Violet had extracted the story out of Lord Martin, despite the earl’s promise to keep silent?

Winifred slammed her teacup onto its saucer, sloshing tea over the edge.

“Fact or fiction, it is too late to stop the rumor.” She sniffed.

“The fault does not fall solely upon you. I encouraged you to bait him. I was watching as you crossed the ballroom. I saw how Lord Martin looked at you when Mr. North intercepted his request to dance.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose with two fingers.

“There will be no avoiding this, my dear. If you are to escape scandal, you must marry your guardian.”

Portia’s stomach clenched. Edward had claimed marrying her would not be terrible, but that didn’t mean he would not resent her for intruding on his freedom. Until recently, he had been a confirmed rake.

A lock of hair fell out of her coiffure. She pushed it out of her face. “Let me speak to Ed—Mr. North, first. Perhaps there is yet another way.”

Winifred withdrew a lace-edge fan from her pocket and waved it in front of her face. “That will be a problem, as your guardian is nowhere to be found.”

For the second time in as many days, Portia felt as if she had been doused in freezing water. “He has fled?”

It was an act that spoke of cowardice, which was not a word she had ever associated with her guardian. But what other reason might there be? If he truly wanted to make things right, he would have been at her side, making plans to salvage what was left of her reputation.

Unless he didn’t know.

Winifred whipped the fan with such force that the feathers in her hair bounced merrily. “He cannot remain in hiding forever. When he resurfaces, we will?—”

“You will do what?”

Edward stood in the doorway, dressed in a fine black wool suit, with his hands behind his back. Portia straightened and waited for him to acknowledge her, but he kept his gaze firmly on her aunt.

“We were not expecting you, sir,” Winifred said tightly.

He inclined his head. “I apologize for not arriving sooner. There was a matter that required my urgent attention.” He turned to Portia, and the hardness in his expression made her gulp.

This was the Mr. North who had so often berated her in his office, not the man who had brushed her cheek with his thumb.

“The first of the banns have been read,” he said.

“‘Banns’,” she repeated. It took a moment for the word to penetrate the fog in her mind.

She was too distracted by the excellent fit of his trousers and the shine of his boots.

When she finally understood what he meant, she straightened so quickly that she bumped her knee on the bottom of the table, causing her cup to rattle. “We are to marry?”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Did I not say as much last night?”

“But you…” Her mouth was dry as sand. “Lord Martin accepted your offer!”

Edward smirked. There was no other word for it. One minute he was looking at her as if she were nothing more than a particularly interesting topiary, the next he was grinning like a self-satisfied cat.

“Lord Martin is a greedy fool,” he said. “I knew he would not keep silent for long, not when he spends so much time in Mrs. Violet’s company. My bribe was only meant to delay him until I could arrange the banns.”

“When were they read?” Winifred asked.

“Early this morning,” Edward replied. “I daresay we beat Mrs. Violet by an hour.”

Winifred leaned back on the couch. “Then all is not lost. I apologize for thinking so little of you, Mr. North. You are a clever man.”