Chapter 23

Portia and her maid, Betty, stood on the pavement outside the tall, white house that Kate and Leighton used in London. Around them, Grosvenor Square was quiet. It was too late for the tradesmen to be out doing deliveries to the grand houses and too early for the ton to be awake and active.

Unless this particular member of the ton was born into the diligent middle classes and still ran the factories that her father left her. Not to mention the presence of a baby in the house. Master Richard Anstey, Viscount Lemaire, was two months old now and the thriving center of his doting parents' lives.

When the footman opened the gleaming black door, Kate rushed up behind him. Richard was in her arms, and she wore a floral dimity gown in a becoming shade of pink. "Frederick, please look after Lady Portia's maid."

"Yes, my lady," the footman said with a bow.

Betty and the valise she carried disappeared into the depths of the house. The girl didn't know the reason behind this visit. Portia had packed her own bag before she'd called Betty this morning. In fact, she'd packed by candlelight somewhere around three. She was too excited to sleep a wink, not to mention on edge after that dreadful scene with Jim Jones and Alaric.

Once they were alone, Kate turned to Portia with unconcealed curiosity. "I received your mysterious note. Do come in and tell me what this is all about. Don't say that you've fallen out with your father. That will make three sisters out of three."

Portia couldn't help laughing at her friend's impatience. "And good morning to you, Kate."

Kate gave a dismissive exhalation. "I have no time for silly civilities. I've been on tenterhooks since I got your message. Come straight through to the morning room."

Portia let Kate whisk her away to a sunny room, where a tea tray awaited. Kate shut the door, closing the three of them inside. She set Richard in a cradle near the open French doors and turned back to Portia. "If you've had a fight with your temperamental papa, you're in a remarkably good humor about it."

Portia took Kate's hands and spoke the words for the first time, words that she never thought she'd say. "Kate, dear, dear Kate, I'm to be married today."

Kate's jaw dropped with such theatrical astonishment that Portia laughed again. "It's mad, isn't it?"

Kate regarded her as if she'd flown in on Pegasus. "I don't know. That depends who you're marrying."

Portia's hold on her friend's hands tightened. "Why, Granville, of course. You knew there was something going on from the first. Don't pretend you're caught unawares."

Except it turned out that Kate was caught unawares. Her brown eyes widened as round as pennies. "Granville? The most boring man in Britain?"

Portia had the grace to blush. "I was wrong about him. He's the most wonderful person in the world."

"I need to sit down to take all this in." Looking poleaxed, Kate drew Portia across to a couch. "You love him?"

"I do." It was also glorious to make that avowal. To someone other than Alaric. Although it was glorious making avowals to him, too.

Kate looked less bewildered, as she subjected Portia to a thorough inspection. "I can see it."

"He loves me back."

"Why wouldn't he? You're adorable." Kate pressed her hands, but a frown drew her dark eyebrows together. "It's just that he's so correct and so aware of his consequence. While you're all heart and independence and determination."

Portia pulled her hands from Kate's. She knew that most people would react with skepticism to news of her wedding. Or at least the people who weren't too busy speculating on how inappropriate it was for Portia to marry her sister's cast-off suitor.

To the devil with them all. Except Kate. She wanted Kate to understand and approve. "He's not like that at all. When you come to know him, you'll love him, too."

"He and Juliet always struck me as the ideal couple. Not you and him. Granville isn't looking to you as a stand-in for the woman he really wants?"

Portia tried not to wince. She'd have to get used to hearing about Juliet and Alaric. To think, one of the things that she'd always valued about Kate was her plain speaking.

"No, he really loves me." Portia doubted her ability to become a suitable duchess, but she didn't doubt Alaric's love. Which was lucky, given Kate's misgivings. She spread her hands in an expansive gesture. "I couldn't be happier. I'm so happy, I feel like I could fly. I've never been so sure of anything as I am that Alaric is the only man for me."

Kate grimaced. "Dear Lord, forgive me. Here I am trampling all over your news. I'm the last person to question a match between apparent opposites. Everyone thought Leighton came down terribly in the world when he married me, after all. If you're contented with your choice, then I'm overjoyed for you."

Portia smiled. "Thank you. Thank you for believing in me." She leaned forward to embrace her friend.

The hug helped. It really did. By the time they drew apart, they both wiped away tears.

"You're a smart woman. If you say Alaric Dempster is the man for you, he gets my endorsement." Kate gave a husky giggle. "But you do have to tell me everything. Shall I pour us some tea? I might ring for a fresh pot. That one will be stewed now."

Portia was back to smiling. "I'd love a cup of tea and a good chat, but time's of the essence and I need your help."

Kate went back to looking shocked. "Dear heaven, did you say you were getting married…today? It's already ten o'clock."

Portia laughed. "I did. Alaric is at St. James's right now, arranging the ceremony. I assume he'll send a note, once he's spoken to the rector."

"But…but what about banns and guests and a dress and a reception and—"

"Alaric has a special license. My dress is in Betty's bag." A new gown that she'd bought last week with a view to dazzling Alaric. "I'm hoping you and Leighton might consent to be our witnesses. In fact, I‘m hoping you'll let me get ready here."

"What about your father?"

"The plan is to tell him tonight after we're married."

"Just before you move into Dempster House?" Kate asked drily.

Portia shrugged. "You know what he's like. Alaric and I want today to be about us."

Kate's smile was brilliant with approval. "Then let's make it thus."

Portia beamed at her friend. "I can be married from your house and you'll attend the ceremony?"

"I'd be honored. So will Leighton."

"Thank you." Portia hugged Kate again. "There's nobody I'd rather have with me on the best day of my life."

Kate stood and crossed to pick up Richard, who was gurgling happily in his cradle. He was a restless baby, so Portia was grateful that for the moment, his mood was sunny. "Let's find Leighton and tell him his presence is requested, then you and I will go upstairs and make you look utterly spectacular."

Portia rose as well. "You're going to be my attendant as well as my witness?"

"Just try and stop me."

***

A footman opened the door when Granville arrived at the Shelburns' mansion. He'd known Leighton Anstey, Lord Shelburn most of his life but had never paid a social visit. They moved in different circles, especially in earlier days when Shelburn had been more famous as a rake and a reprobate than today's blissfully happy family man. Granville had only been inside the house once before, when he attended the recent ball to dance with Portia.

Now he mounted the steps two at a time to collect the bride he loved with all his heart.

The footman brought him into an attractive morning room, where the Shelburns sat with Portia. She surged to her feet and rushed over to take his hands. "Alaric, I thought you'd send a message."

He smiled at her. He'd been smiling all day, he was just so damned euphoric. "I decided to come myself. By heaven, you're gorgeous. I'm the luckiest man alive. That's a lovely dress."

Portia glanced down at the ice-blue satin gown that brought out the color of her beautiful eyes. "This old thing?"

He laughed and only just restrained himself from kissing her. "You make a stunning bride."

Lord Shelburn rose and held out his hand. "Congratulations, Your Grace."

Granville realized that he'd completely forgotten his manners. He should have acknowledged his host and hostess first. But how could he think about anyone but Portia on this day of days?

He tore his attention away from his darling and shook Shelburn's hand. "Thank you. And thank you to you and Lady Shelburn for supporting us in our plans for a quiet wedding."

"I'll be the most envied woman in London, once the news is out." Lady Shelburn stood beside her husband and threaded her hand through his arm. "Everyone will want the details of what you wore and what you said and what you did."

"As long as you say the groom was much prettier than the bride." Portia took Granville's hand again. "Hobbs has excelled himself."

Granville sighed with mock self-pity. "The fellow's been pecking and picking at me all morning."

"You look the ideal bridegroom, Your Grace," Lady Shelburn said.

Granville had on a black coat and biscuit pantaloons. His neckcloth was a perfect fall, and he wore his favorite gray silk waistcoat.

"Thank you." He smiled. "Given both of you will play such an important part in my wedding day, perhaps you should call me Alaric."

Lady Shelburn cast him a warm glance. "Then we must be Kate and Leighton."

"What did the rector say?" Portia asked.

"He's at our disposal for the rest of the day."

"Capital," Leighton said. "In that case, let's have some champagne to celebrate before we go."

As if on cue, the butler arrived with a bottle in an ice bucket, followed by a footman bearing a tray of four glasses.

While the butler poured the wine, Kate sent Granville a teasing glance. "Isn't it bad luck to see the bride on the day of the ceremony?"

Portia gave one of her beguiling giggles. "We just might have met after midnight last night."

Kate arched her eyebrows. "You got over your headache fast."

Portia blushed like a rose. "Love is the best medicine."

"We had things to talk about," Granville said, although he suspected that Kate and Leighton guessed that at the very least, kissing had occurred.

Leighton smiled and raised his glass. "May I propose a toast to the engaged couple, Portia and Alaric, and wish you both every happiness?"

"Thank you." Granville already felt like champagne flowed through his veins.

"Thank you, my dear friends," Portia said after a sip.

Kate took a mouthful of wine and set her glass on the table. She turned to Leighton. "Come and help me choose some flowers from the garden. Portia hasn't thought of a bouquet."

Leighton caught on immediately and drained his glass before setting it next to Kate's. "We can't have our bride missing out on her flowers."

The moment that the Shelburns disappeared behind the closed door, Portia flung herself into his arms. "Alaric, I'm so glad Jim Jones didn't kill you."

He laughed as he clasped her close. It felt like an eon since he'd held her, even if it was only last night. "By Jericho, so am I."

"Don't joke." She gave a shudder. "I was scared to death."

"I was mainly terrified that you were going to fly out of the grove like a Valkyrie and take him on again."

"You don't know how difficult it was, staying put," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I kept telling myself that if I trusted you enough to marry you, I trusted you to handle Jim Jones."

"What's this?" He pulled back to see her face. "I won't have you crying on our wedding day. It's against the rules. Anyway, everything worked out."

"I couldn't bear thinking I might lose you."

"I couldn't bear thinking I might lose Jupiter."

That elicited a watery chuckle. "I was impressed with how you stood up for your dog."

"So was he." Granville dug in his pocket for a handkerchief and passed it to her. "I won't let Jim Jones cast a pall over the best day of my life. Let's look forward to our wedding instead. I love you so much, Portia."

"And I love you," she said, voice thick with emotion. The kiss was sweet and leisurely and held no shadows. It spoke of promises made and a life to be shared.

"I like your friends," he murmured, keeping hold of her hand but moving back. "And I appreciate their tact. I was desperate to kiss you."

"I think they noticed." She rose on her toes to kiss him quickly.

He stared down into her lovely face, so in love that he was drunk with the emotion. "No second thoughts?"

"Heavens, no." She returned his searching stare. "What about you?"

"I've never been so happy." Heartfelt sincerity roughened his voice. "You make me happy, Portia."

Her eyes softened, and she cradled his cheek in a tender hand. This time, the kiss was more thorough. By the time he lifted his head, Portia was flushed and breathless. So was he.

She glanced down at her gown. "Perhaps we should get married before my dress is crushed to glory."

He laughed. "You're a beautiful bride, my darling. I don't deserve you."

Her smile was misty, as she raised his ungloved hand to kiss his knuckles. The act of overt homage made his heart cramp into an aching lump of adoration. "You deserve everything in the world that makes you happy, my dearest."

Gratitude flooded him as he smiled down at her. He was feeling rather misty himself. "That's you, my beloved."

The smile that she bestowed upon him was dazzling. "Make me your wife, Alaric. Let's find Kate and Leighton and go to the church. I want the world to know I'm yours and you're mine."

One more quick kiss before he caught her hand. "Forever, Portia."

"Forever, Alaric," she echoed.

They opened the door to find Leighton and Kate coming up the corridor toward them with an extravagant array of tulips and cherry blossom and irises. Portia accepted the flowers with thanks, then took Granville's arm.

Together, they stepped forth to claim a glorious future.