Chapter 2

Three weeks had passed in a whirlwind of commotion.

Much to Portia's dismay, the twins had been sent to their paternal grandmother's the day after she'd discovered her fate, so as to ‘not interfere in all the preparations', and Miss Alison had been given additional duties—so she rarely saw her friend. The worst was all the lectures she'd had to endure on how to secure a husband posthaste once the Season began.

All this on top of the rising anxiety in the pit of her stomach that she had a paltry dowry, no acquaintances, plus the constant fear that she would be pushed off onto the first man Judith found, regardless of feelings or compatibility, not to mention that her brother had not kept his word.

Holding true to form, George did not provide her with two new gowns, but merely gave her two of his wife's hand-me-downs. Although newer in style than her late mother's dresses, they were not fashionable in the least, and quite ill-fitting.

Thank heavens for Mrs. Darnel, Portia thought once again as she placed the pale rose walking dress in the trunk.

If it weren't for Mrs. Darnel, she wouldn't have had knowledge of how to sew or redesign the outdated clothes. Over the past weeks, when the house was quiet in the small, wee hours, Mrs. Darnel had helped her prepare her dresses for the Season. Although she knew the fashions still weren't quite up to date, she hoped she'd done enough to catch the eye of a respectable gentleman.

There was only one dress in her trunk that was new, fashionable, and absolutely beautiful. Mrs. Darnel had worked tirelessly on the shimmering blue satin creation. The border had been especially laborious, but the end result was more than Portia could have hoped for. The simple elegant lines and low neckline of the dress accentuated her womanly curves.

She'd been quite surprised when Mrs. Darnel revealed that the exquisite cloth had been intended for Hilarie, but during a full tantrum one afternoon, the girl had refused the fabric—along with a couple of other bolts—deeming them unacceptable and beneath her taste in fashion. However, Hilarie's rejection was very much to the benefit of Portia.

Without so much as a tap on the door to make her appearance known, Hilarie charged into Portia's room, interrupting her task.

"I've come to help you pack," her niece announced with a wide smile that suggested she had an ulterior motive.

Portia highly doubted the spoiled miss was coming to offer any aid and simply nodded, then went about her business, hoping Hilaire would tire of the silence and move on. A moment later, her reason was revealed.

Hilarie went to the bed and grabbed one of the dresses Portia had yet to pack. She held up the altered lavender creation, and in a condescending tone said, "I do not think this one is up to par for the Season."

Portia would never let Hilarie realize that she knew what she was about. Reaching for another dress that she had modified, she questioned, "Do you think this one will do?"

She knew what the answer would be and was not surprised when Hilarie naysayed her choice of clothing. "Absolutely not. The color is all wrong, and the trim…" She scrunched her nose in disgust as if unable to continue her sentence.

Portia gently folded the dress and placed it in the single trunk she was permitted to take. The bottom was lined with her favorite books that she'd taken with her after her father passed away and she was sent here. She also packed all her most precious possessions, including several sketches Albert and the twins had created for her through the years. She knew without a doubt that she would not be returning to her half-sister's home.

"You're still taking it?" Hilarie questioned with a wave of her hand as Portia placed the garment in her trunk.

"I have no other clothes suitable for Town, so this will have to do."

Hilarie crossed her arms, and with a stomp of her foot, stormed out of the room, but not before announcing, "It's not fair." With another stamp, she yelled, "Mother!"

Portia was certain she would get an earful later over her ill behavior toward Hilarie. From very early on, Hilarie had always tried to place blame on others, especially Portia, whenever things did not go her way, or she did not get her way. And it had only got worse with age. Portia did not trust her niece. The eighteen-year-old was too much like her mother, gossiping without regard for others, seemingly without remorse for her hurtful words or actions.

It didn't matter. Soon she would be off to London and journeying into the unknown.

Several days had passed and not even Portia's imagination could have prepared her for the long trek to London. Despite the pleasant weather, it had been a dreadful and tedious journey. She'd been cooped up in a carriage with Judith and Hilarie with nothing to do but stare out the window at the passing countryside, while enduring their complaints and disgruntlement about every topic imaginable. Nothing was good enough for them. At every stop, they complained about the quality of food and accommodations, and once back in the carriage, they revisited every negative thing they'd just endured. The only reprieve was when the pair discussed who might be in Town.

Portia's thoughts drifted to Titus. After all these years, she still wondered why he hadn't written back. She supposed she shouldn't dwell on the past. It was something she couldn't change, but no matter how hard she tried, thoughts of him always found their way into her present.

Would he be in Town? He was an earl, after all, so she supposed it was a possibility. She wondered if she would ever see her childhood friend again. What did he look like now? Would he even remember her?

By the time they reached London and the rented townhouse, Portia was exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep for days. How would she ever endure an entire Season with these two?

* * *

"But you have to come to Town this Season," Flora whined sweetly, the afternoon sun streaming into the parlor, highlighting her blonde hair and endearing features.

"Yes, please, Titus," their great-aunt begged. "At eighty, I am too old to make the journey, nor do I want to spend any remaining days I may have on this earth in London. No, staying right here in the country suits me just fine. Not to mention, how will Flora know which gentlemen are sincere in their pursuit, and which are fortune hunters, or worse…" her words trailed off and her cheeks reddened with embarrassment, and without a doubt Titus knew she was referring to rakes. Titus did not believe his great-aunt suspected he was one of those. Despite being known as such about Town—a reputation he'd embraced after the heartache he'd suffered—he'd always tried to keep his affairs secret, especially after the fiasco with the provocative actress, Louisa Rawkes, who'd announced at the end of one of her performances that she was in love with him. Titus had swiftly ended their affair, but only after many dramatics and even more declarations of undying affection. Eventually, the actress found a more willing—and wealthy—bed partner.

"Please," his older relative added with a hopeful smile.

Great-Aunt Lucy was the sweetest and most na?ve woman he'd ever known. And the complete opposite of Mother. Damn, why did thoughts of her still randomly enter his mind at the most inconvenient times after all these years?

Because you want to know where she is, and if she ever held any affection for you.

Titus knew, without a doubt, his mother did not care about him. Why else would she have rejected her only child? He shook those unpleasant thoughts away. She was not worth his time. He had more important things to think about at present, namely, his cousin's first season.

He was about to mention that Flora would be under the watchful eye of Aunt Adeline, when, most likely fueled by his silence, his cousin pleaded with renewed determination. "Titus, please say you'll come. And…" She drew the single word out for a moment before continuing, "Perhaps you will find love."

Flora was always the romantic. Even as a young child, her dolls had forever found their knight in shining armor after being rescued from some incident, usually a kidnapping. Through the years, her stories had been most entertaining. She believed that everyone should have a chance at love.

"I doubt that," he muttered under his breath. He was not destined for love. Didn't believe it existed, at least not for him. And, he had absolutely had no intention of marrying, with or without love. He would not risk his heart… again.

Flora ignored his skepticism and reaffirmed her declaration. "I think you will find love. It's as simple as that."

He could not hide the sarcasm from his voice. "As simple as that?" He crossed his arms and launched into a fairy tale scenario. "And I suppose it will be love at first sight?" His cousin and great-aunt nodded their heads in unison. He inwardly shook his head, then continued on with his tale. "It will happen at a ball, perhaps. I'll have done my duty and stayed the minimum time deemed appropriate, but as I take my leave, I spy a beautiful woman from across the room. I do not know who she is, but the intensity of her mystère is a siren call, luring me. I cross the room, and just as I reach her side, the first chords of a waltz caress the air. I take her in my arms and sweep her across the dance floor in elegant maneuvers. And when the dance ends, I whisk her out onto the moonlit veranda and declare my love."

"Oh, how wonderful," Flora said with a dreamy sigh, as she swayed from side to side as if she'd been dancing. "I hope that's how it will happen for me."

Alarms rang louder than the church bells on Sunday morning. Flora was without a doubt a target for fortune hunters, or worse. He glanced over to Great-Aunt Lucy, who had the same faraway look in her eyes. Titus could not live with himself if his cousin fell victim to some rake or a chancer. He inwardly sighed. He had no choice.

"I will go," he said with reluctance.

"Oh! Thank you, thank you!" Flora exclaimed as she ran over to him and wrapped her arms about his neck. "You are the best cousin ever!"

Titus didn't know about that, but he would ensure her happiness.

"I will write to Adeline and let her know that you finally came to your senses," Great-Aunt Lucy said with a wink. Titus could not help but wonder if the women in his life had been plotting against him.

* * *

Titus enjoyed the journey to London with Flora. Her conversation and commentary about the scenery, their accommodations each evening, and about the world in general were most entertaining. Although Flora was no match for Portia in that arena.

Portia.

Why was she creeping into his thoughts?

It was true that Portia was, without a doubt, the most intelligent woman he'd ever known—besides Aunt Adeline—and she had offered comfort after his mother had deserted him, but that was no reason for her to intrude on his thoughts. Ever since he'd tried to visit her eight years ago, and was turned away by Lord Oaks, who'd stated that Portia didn't want to see or hear from him again, and that she was on the cusp of a proposal, he'd buried his anger and emotions. He didn't understand what had changed. When his last and final letter to her received no response, he'd resigned himself to a different sort of life, one where there was no emotional attachment, no let-down, no disappointment, and that suited him just fine. There was less at stake in bedding an actress or singer, or having a mistress for a brief time, and then moving on. And so, he embarked on a path of rakish behavior, and never looked back.

That's not true.

Although he'd buried his feelings for her deep within, Portia was never far from his thoughts. How could she not be when…

No. He would not allow his heart to speak. That time had passed.

Damn. Why were the women of his past plaguing his present of late?

Titus and Flora arrived at their aunt's home in the most desirable part of Town on the appointed day, not having endured any delays. In this part of the city, the homes were large, well-appointed, and the residents seemingly wanted for nothing. Titus knew better. It was all a fa?ade. Wealth, title, and status did not make for a happy life. The problem was, at eight and twenty, he still did not know what did make for a happy life, or even a contented one. All his previous notions had been mistaken.

"Good afternoon, Lord Ravensworth, Miss Beaumont," Gilbert said. "Lady Whitby is in her parlor."

"Thank you, Gilbert," Titus said as he followed his cousin toward where their aunt was awaiting their arrival.

Dozens of steps later, they entered the simple, yet elegant room. His aunt did not believe in overdecorating a residence. To her mind, a home should reflect a person's interests. And by looking around, one would know that Aunt Adeline's passion was flowers. For as long as he could remember, mirrors had hung on the walls of her private rooms, not for her to gaze upon herself, but to reflect the elaborate displays of hothouse flowers that always seemed to be in abundance.

"Aunt Adeline!" Flora exclaimed with excitement as she rushed into the older woman's open arms.

"It is wonderful to see you again, Flora," she said with much affection as she returned the embrace.

Flora turned in Aunt Adeline's embrace, and looked directly at Titus, and then with a wink said, "I brought Titus with me, just as you instructed."

So, his relatives had been plotting against him. The question remained: why?

Aunt Adeline held out her hand, indicating that she wished for him to join their embrace. And as always, he obliged. Family was a precious luxury, and over the past few years that luxury had been dwindling with the passing of too many relatives, and sadly, not all from old age. Aunt Adeline was the only one left of her four siblings.

"Thank you for joining us," Aunt Adeline said with a hint of disbelief that he was actually attending the Season.

"As if I had much of a choice." The words slipped from Titus's mouth in a murmur, but unfortunately, still loud enough for his relatives to hear.

Flora winced for a moment before Aunt Adeline dictated their next course of action. "Flora, go upstairs and get settled while I have a word with your cousin."

"Only one?" Titus responded, his words heavy with sarcasm. Although he did his best in tending to his responsibilities as an earl, there was one area of his life that he'd neglected. On purpose.

"Titus, don't make the situation worse," Flora pleaded.

"Dearest cousin, I am a full-grown man in control of my life and future. There is no worse situation, I can assure you."

"We will see about that," his aunt said, before she waved off Flora to her task. Aunt Adeline waited for Flora to leave the room before she unleashed her displeasure. The moment came as soon as the door clicked shut. "You're acting like a petulant little boy, and I will not allow this behavior to continue."

"What behavior? I've only just arrived, and—" he started to defend himself, but a moment later was interrupted.

"I know all about your raking across the country, the actresses, and your last mistress." His aunt tsked her displeasure several times.

"You've been spying on me," Titus said. Through the years, he'd often wondered if his steward or one of the many butlers he employed at his various estates were reporting back to his aunt. Ever since Father died, she'd expressed much concern for Titus's well-being.

"No," Aunt Adeline said with a shake of her head. "That would imply I'm being secretive or underhanded. I am quite open with my intentions. You could have asked any one of your staff. They were instructed not to hide the truth when questioned."

Annoyance and frustration rose from his chest. So, she had been spying on him. "But still, you should not have?—"

"There is no but still. You run in the opposite direction any time I ask you how you're faring, and you won't discuss your feelings or thoughts, so I had to take matters into my own hands. I made a promise to your father. Well, not just to your father, but to all my siblings, actually."

Her confession caught him off guard. He knew she, his father and his uncles had got on well, but… "What sort of promise?"

"My three brothers and I were inseparable while growing up, always guarding one another's interests, and that continued into adulthood. While some families grow apart with age and distance, we all remained very close. When your father married?—"

"Do not say her name," he growled. His aunt's brown eyes went wide with shock. He softened his tone. "Please don't." The hurt and pain that woman had caused him and his father continued to haunt him.

Seventeen years had passed—but who else was counting—and he still remembered the day she left as if it were yesterday. Still felt the pain as if it were yesterday.

Titus had snuck away from his tutor—who had fallen asleep and was snoring loudly—in search of something more exciting than mathematics. He'd just reached the bottom of the stairs when he heard his parents, not quite arguing, but not engaged in a pleasant conversation either.

With great care, he tiptoed to be able to hear better. That was his first mistake.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot stay, not even for Titus." His mother's words had been like a knife to his heart. What she'd said shouldn't have hurt him, but it had. She'd rarely spent much time with him, always stating she was busy with her duties, but even so, he'd wanted her to be proud of him, to notice his achievements.

Father's response was low, inaudible.

A moment later, his mother emerged from the study. Her brown eyes locked with his. Her features were firm, void of emotion.

"Mama?"

She sucked in her breath, turned, and walked away from him.

"Please stay, Mama! I promise to be a better boy. Please, Mama!" His cries echoed through the vast house, but they were ignored. Without so much as a second glance, she walked out of his life, twisting the knife she'd just jabbed into his heart, inflicting pain no eleven-year-old boy should experience from his mother.

Begging her had been his second mistake. From that day forth, he vowed to never ask a woman for anything. He never wanted to endure such heartache again. But you did, and it nearly destroyed you.

"Come and sit with me," Aunt Adeline offered gently, breaking through the bitter memories. They moved to the pink damask settee. A couple of silent moments passed before she continued, choosing her words carefully, "Perhaps I should explain. My brothers and I made a pact to not only watch over each other, but our nieces and nephews. You and Flora are all that remain of our immediate family, and I fully intend to honor my brothers' wishes for their children."

"You still haven't said what that promise entails," he reminded her. He did not enjoy these cryptic games she often played.

"That I would aid you in finding true love."

A cynical laugh escaped his lips. "It doesn't exist. And besides, I do not intend to ever marry."

He could tell his aunt was about to argue when Gilbert entered the room. "Pardon the interruption, Lady Whitby. Her Grace has arrived."

"Thank you, Gilbert." Aunt Adeline stood and looked directly into Titus's eyes, saying, "We will continue this discussion later." She started to leave the room, then stopped and turned back, her determined gaze meeting his once again. "When you least expect it."

Titus knew with absolute certainty that his aunt would address this topic at a later date. Aunt Adeline had a knack for not letting things go, and it was even worse when she got an idea in her head. He felt as if he was treading on thin ice this Season—and this was only Day One.

That boy is so infuriating! Adeline thought as she walked toward the drawing room. She'd made a promise to her brothers, and she fully intended on seeing it through.

Titus never wanted to talk about his mother, never referred to her. It was almost as if he'd erased her from his mind. Without a doubt, she knew her nephew was still hurting from Josepha's abandonment. William had tried to fill the void, and had been a wonderful father, but Adeline suspected there was more to the story and she would get to the bottom of it.