Chapter 12

Her heart in her throat, Portia crossed the small square in front of Mary's house and darted into the side alley where Rankin always waited while she visited her former governess. Today there was no familiar closed carriage, drawn by horses from the Frain stable. Instead, there was a black curricle with the hood up and a pair of bays far more impressive than anything her father owned.

The ton didn't frequent unfashionable Marylebone, so it was unlikely that anyone she knew would see her. Nonetheless, she lowered a veil from the brim of her bonnet.

"Did you have any trouble?" Alaric asked softly, leaning forward past the rim of the hood. One gloved hand held the reins, and the other stretched out to take her small valise. He, like her, was dressed in plain traveling clothes and he'd pulled his hat down over his face. He set her bag behind the seat before helping her up.

"No. Everything went like a dream." By now, she should be used to the zap of heat when they touched. Even through two layers of leather, the effect remained as disconcerting as ever. "It doesn't seem right for fate to cooperate with our plans."

He laughed softly. "The devil must be on our side."

She climbed up to sit beside him. Under the canopy, the light was dim. It was afternoon and this early in spring, the day already started to draw in. On the narrow seat, her hip squeezed against his. More heat radiated from where their bodies met.

"Papa has gone down to Hampshire to see Viola and Toby and Benedict. Rankin dropped me at Mary's and will collect me there on Friday afternoon. She didn't even blink when I told her I was heading into Essex to rescue a dog."

Under the brim of his hat, green eyes searched her face. "You sound as if you want to be called out on your plans."

Self-mockery turned down her lips. "I've been so afraid something would stop me leaving. I keep waiting for the gun to go off. I'm a nervous wreck."

"You can change your mind, you know." He kept hold of her hand. "Go home and sleep the sleep of the innocent tonight."

As she studied his face, her fear receded. "Do you want to abandon our plans?"

"God, no!" Even through her veil, she saw how appalled he looked. He sounded it, too. "But the decision remains yours."

Reassured by his vehemence, she settled into her seat. "Then let's go."

"I want to kiss you." The fervent admission launched her heart on a string of exuberant cartwheels. "But we're not safe yet."

"I wish you could, too," she said with a touch of wistfulness.

The searing glance he shot her dowsed the last of her doubts.

He released her and seized the reins in both hands with a purpose that should have terrified her. After all, the purpose was her seduction. But his determination was uplifting. There was something to be said for falling in love with a supremely competent man.

She and Alaric remained silent, as he guided the light carriage out of the alley and into the traffic. Portia huddled back against the seat, although the veil hid her face and the vehicle's hood protected her from casual curiosity.

Alaric's skillful driving and the compact vehicle meant that even through crowded streets, they made good progress. Soon they were bowling along the highway toward Windsor, where they'd turn south for Surrey.

He urged the magnificent horses to a gallop. "There's a rug under the seat if you're cold."

"Thank you, but I'm fine." She sucked in what felt like her first full breath in hours, and her hands shook as she lifted the veil off her face. Immediately the scenery snapped into focus. The hedgerows on either side were white with blackthorn flowers and bare fields stretched to the horizon. It was that time of year where spring and winter vied for supremacy. The day was gray with squalls of rain, so the hood offered shelter against the weather as well as prying eyes. "How long is the journey from here?"

"Two hours if all goes well."

Two hours didn't seem long. Nerves raised their head again, despite the bolt of anticipation slamming through her. At last, they'd be alone with no risk of discovery. They'd never enjoyed that luxury. The prospect was both daunting and exhilarating.

"Are you hungry? There's a basket in the back, if you want to stop. We'll have a hot meal once we get to Surrey. I've arranged for the staff to leave the lodge stocked, and they've got orders not to come near the place until Friday afternoon."

"No, I'm not hungry." At least for food. Over the last few days, they'd met in the park for brief conversations, and last night, they'd been partners in a quadrille at Lady Chastain's ball. Each meeting left behind a storm of futile longing.

They hadn't risked waltzing again, after she told him about Kate and Leighton's curiosity. Since that uncomfortable conversation, she'd avoided the Shelburns. Luckily, the crush at the events they all attended allowed her to do that without being too obvious. Or at least she hoped so. She couldn't face another interrogation and having to tell more lies. Especially when she suspected that neither Kate nor Leighton believed a word she said.

Portia curled her fingers around Alaric's arm, feeling the slide and release of his muscles as he controlled the horses with impressive ease. She hadn't wanted to distract him when he negotiated London traffic.

He'd stuck to the city's less fashionable areas, where they were unlikely to encounter people that they knew. The fine horseflesh might draw a second glance, but in the capital's workaday sectors, people were too busy to stop and speculate on who drove the natty little carriage.

"Do you…bring women to the lodge often?"

He tensed under her grasp. "Portia…"

She bit her lip. "I know it's none of my business, but…"

His jaw firmed, although he didn't shift his gaze from the road ahead. "You're the only woman I've brought to my house in Lorimer Square. And you'll be the only woman who's visited my hunting lodge."

His voice rang with sincerity. She couldn't doubt that he spoke the truth.

Gladness eased the tension in her stomach. She couldn't help smiling. "It shouldn't matter—"

"But it does."

"I'd hate to be a forgettable affair in a long line of forgettable affairs."

His snort poured scorn on that shaky statement. "No fear. There's been nobody like you, and there will be nobody like you. Ever."

Because Alaric Dempster wasn't given to extravagant statements, his words left her reeling. Silence descended for a minute or two, as she summoned the courage to ask the next question. "Can we…can we stop now?"

The glance he cast her was concerned. "Are you feeling ill?"

"No."

The bays slowed to a halt. "You haven't changed your mind?"

Portia realized that Alaric, too, had suffered bouts of uncertainty. It made her feel better to know that she wasn't alone in that. She liked that he didn't take her for granted. "No, of course not."

"What is it, then?"

Her grip on his arm tightened, and she shifted to face him. The patrician features were clouded with worry.

"There's nobody around. It feels like a good time to kiss me."

Astonished joy filled his expression. And a good dose of relief. He'd definitely been worried that she meant to withdraw from their arrangement. "I don't deserve you."

He loosely knotted the reins over the bar at the front of the carriage and slid his arms around her. She sank into immediate heat and a security which was absurd. But every time he touched her, she couldn't help thinking that everything was going to be wonderful.

His lips explored hers with a thoroughness that set her blood rushing and stirred up that now familiar weight in the pit of her stomach. It was both alarming and thrilling to think that soon he'd fill that emptiness inside her, the ache that had started the first time he'd kissed her.

By the time they drew apart, both were panting. His smart gray hat had fallen to the floor of the carriage.

"Oh, my," she sighed, opening dazed eyes. She shaped her gloved hand to that chiseled jaw. "This last week has been endless."

"Hasn't it just?" His lips quirked in self-deprecation. "Every time I saw you, I was tempted to steal you away and to hell with the consequences."

An elated smile lifted her lips, as her heart expanded against her ribs. "Now you have stolen me away."

His answering smile was free of all restraint, as it so rarely was. "Lucky me."

***

The evening drew in as the curricle turned between a set of gates and followed a winding avenue of lime trees. Portia tightened her hold on Alaric's arm, as the house came into view past a mellow brick wall and another gate.

"It's lovely," she said.

The lodge was four floors high, with a pavilion on the roof. Pairs of tall casement windows formed symmetrical lines along the cream stone fa?ade. A graceful double staircase rose to a door beneath a carved pediment. Forest encroached on the garden, emphasizing the fairy-tale atmosphere.

Alaric drew the tired horses up on the gravel turning circle. "One of my ancestors built it for his mistress in the reign of Charles II. The story is that he wanted to keep her out of the king's clutches."

"Did he succeed?"

"By all reports, he did. He married her, once he was free to do so. It caused an almighty scandal."

So this had always been a house for lovers. It still was. Alaric didn't love her, but Portia loved him enough to make up for that. "How romantic."

Alaric's smile held no shadows. "It was rather. She was a parliamentarian's daughter who gave up everything to follow her heart. She ended up a countess." He looped the reins over the bar at the front of the carriage and descended from his seat. "Let me help you down."

She held out her hand, experiencing the familiar jolt of awareness when his fingers curled around hers. "Do you come here much?"

"Not often." His sly look set a host of butterflies fluttering inside her. "But that may change."

A huff of amusement escaped. "Now you have a mistress of your own?"

Wry humor twisted his lips, as she stepped down from the carriage. "Now I have need of a bower that offers privacy I lack in London."

After sitting so long, her knees were stiff and she stumbled. Alaric easily caught her and drew her into his side. When his arm circled her, she nestled closer. The air grew colder, and he was so big and warm.

"You must be cold. Shall I take you inside? I'll settle the horses then follow you in."

She tipped her face to gaze at him. She couldn't help smiling, which didn't say much about her grip on morality. Here she was, ready to be ravished by a man who wasn't her husband, and she'd never been so happy in her life.

"Let me come with you. Many hands make light work, after all." She didn't want to be parted from him, not even for the half hour that he needed to care for his horses.

She and Alaric had a mere three nights together. He already spoke as if they'd come back here. Knowing that he planned to continue their affair after this rendezvous was reassuring. But she knew the world well enough to recognize that another opportunity to meet mightn't arise in a hurry.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, then laughed. "As every lover since Adam has asked the woman he wants."

"‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.'"

He placed a quick kiss on her lips. "I approve."

Before she could respond, he released her and took the horses' heads to lead them around the side of the house to a neat stable block. "I could have kept the staff on, but I thought you'd prefer us to be alone. However it means that we have to fend for ourselves and feed the horses."

"I like looking after animals, as you know."

"I do know," he said dryly.

"You could have brought Jupiter." She set out after Alaric. The cobbles beneath her half boots were wet, and the air had a delicious freshness. Or perhaps that was only because the whole world fizzed like champagne. "I'd be more than happy to tend to him."

Alaric's look expressed mock disapproval. "I'll have you know I'm more than capable of handling him on my own. I've become a dab hand at washing him. Which is a good thing. Every time I take him out, he finds something disgusting to roll in."

"That's what dogs do."

"No wonder my grandparents never let me have a puppy. They hated disorder."

He never spoke of his upbringing with bitterness, but she couldn't help thinking that it sounded like a horribly cold way to rear a little boy. "I thought you hated it, too. You were always so proper."

"It turns out I don't mind at all." When he held his hand out, she took it.

"I'm so glad he's decided he'll put up with Matty."

"Getting the lad to feed him was genius."

Given that the duke had once treated her as if she couldn't cross the street without falling over, she basked in the compliment. "Thank heavens it worked."

Portia slipped forward to lift the latch that kept the stable doors closed. She stood back to let Alaric bring the horses and curricle under cover.

"Let me light a lamp or two," he said from somewhere forward of her in the gloom. With the cloudy day and the early sunset, it was as dark as a coal mine inside, despite a line of windows high up near the roof.

She heard Alaric move about and the scrape of a flint. Golden light bloomed around them.

They stood in a big bare space, designed to hold several carriages. Against the far wall, hay was piled in bales and loose mounds. Behind her, a short corridor led to a closed door. On either side of the corridor, half a dozen stalls waited empty.

Alaric lit more lamps. She removed her gloves and started unharnessing the horses.

"They're beauties." And perfectly trained, standing docile as she unbuckled the leathers.

"I bought them last week at Tattersall's." He stood on the other side, working on the second horse. It whickered in welcome and butted him with its splendid head. "I didn't want anyone recognizing the blacks that I usually drive."

"You bought two expensive horses for discretion's sake?" she asked in a reedy voice.

"Of course." His tone was light, as if what he'd done was a mere trifle, hardly worth mentioning.

"But they must have cost—"

He broke in before she could speculate on how many hundreds of guineas he'd laid out on the bays. Papa wasn't in the Corinthian line, but she'd danced enough with Ivor Bilson to know what bloodstock of this caliber cost.

"Worth every penny. I promised that I'd keep your good name safe."

Portia shouldn't find his efforts moving, but she did. Before she'd set out this morning, she'd had a serious word with herself about quelling any sentimental impulses. This was a short-term affair, and she intended to enjoy herself. She wasn't going to waste these few precious days on hopeless yearning.

But when Alaric did things like this, it was almost impossible to remember that this affair didn't include love as part of its definition. At least for Alaric.

She swallowed the poignant emotion blocking her throat. "I didn't expect you to beggar yourself for the sake of a few nights with me."

"There's a couple of pence left in the Dempster coffers. I promise I'll do better than bread and water tonight."

She didn't laugh, although she could tell that he didn't want to dwell on his extraordinary extravagance. Her voice shook with emotion. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. Thank you."

"Then life has shortchanged you," he said. "I intend to treat you like the treasure you are."

Before her boggling mind could summon some response, he went back to murmuring praise to the horse. She heard him pat the horse's neck. "It's all right, Poll."

When she spoke, she'd gained a little control over her tumultuous reactions. Her voice emerged with a dry edge. "Poll? Isn't he a gelding?"

"Apollo and Dionysus. But that's too much of a mouthful for a sensible man."

"Dionysus?" She took a guess. "Di?"

"Right first go."

They each took a horse and led them into the stalls. "They're all set up with food and water."

Alaric was checking Poll's feet on the other side of the chest-high partition. "Yes, a housekeeper and a gamekeeper, a married couple, live here when I'm not using the house. On the rare occasions when I host a hunting party, I send staff from London. I wrote to the Johnsons last week, requesting them to prepare everything. They're visiting their daughter in Godalming right now."

Portia brought Di up to the filled manger. She rubbed him down, as he drank noisily from the bucket. She'd been in a state since she'd arrived at the lodge, but the familiar rhythm of settling a horse calmed her.

She patted Di's shoulder and went to stand in the aisle. "Your new horses have lovely manners."

"Yes, you did me a favor when I bought them." He came out of the stall and shut the gate behind him. His coat draped over his arm, and he was in his shirtsleeves.

For a long moment, Portia studied him. By heaven, he was a treat for the eye.

He regarded her with a quizzical expression. "What?"

Color flooded her cheeks, which was mad when so far she hadn't done anything to raise a blush. "You're so handsome. You quite dazzle me."

He blushed, too, which she found charming. "What a load of nonsense."

She loved it when he revealed this unexpected boyish side. She saw it when he was with Jupiter and now with his horses. And with her. It wasn't something that he allowed free rein in society. If he had, perhaps it wouldn't have taken her so long to realize how likable he was. "It needs to be said."

"Then thank you," he said with more of that charming self-effacement. "Shall I show you the house?"

She squared her shoulders and summoned all her courage. "Not yet."

He guessed at least part of her intention. "You want a kiss?"

She wanted more than that. But a kiss made a good start. "Yes, please."