Chapter 4

Several events had come and gone, and at almost every one, Portia had been present, holding up the wall, looking rather out of place in ill-fitting dresses in unbecoming shades of a myriad of colors, and always in the company of Miss Roseland, another wallflower if there ever was one.

Every time Titus saw Portia, unanswered questions from the past demanded attention. Why had she blanked him all those years ago? And continued to blank him? He'd never done anything untoward. Quite the contrary. He'd inquired after her, written to her, had been to visit her even at the Oaks residence, but at every turn, she had ignored him.

Why do you care?

He didn't care, he reminded himself. He wasn't about to let her back in his life, only for her to leave him again.

Are you referring to Portia or Mother?

He was not going to try to justify his thoughts, even to himself. What he felt was curiosity and nothing more.

He'd made some confidential inquiries as to why Portia had suddenly turned up in Town after all these years. The report was short and did not sate his curiosity. He learned that she was still unmarried and residing in a rented townhouse with Lady Oaks and Miss Oaks for the duration of the Season.

Had her intended scorned her? If so, why hadn't she entered Society previously? She was the daughter of a baron, after all, and certainly had opportunities.

Damn, why couldn't he stop thinking about her?

Always the busybody, his aunt had noticed his behavior. She had attempted to ask probing questions, but he'd managed to evade her. However, he was to dine with Aunt Adeline and his cousin this evening, and he suspected that they would team up against him, especially considering upcoming events.

In spite of all his efforts to avoid certain entertainments, the evening of the much anticipated—anticipated by his cousin, that was—masquerade was quickly approaching, and his relatives were intent on ensuring he attended.

"Tomorrow is Lady Adams's masquerade," Flora squealed. "I simply cannot wait. Titus, what will you go as?" she questioned, then took a bite of roast duck.

"I'm too old to dress up in a costume and?—"

"You're never too old," Flora scolded. "It is always great fun to dress up and pretend for an evening."

"And what are you pretending, my dear cousin?" Titus questioned, wondering what sort of mischief Flora could be up to, and equally as important, trying to steer the topic away from himself.

"Nothing in particular." She took a sip of Madeira, then launched into her theories. "It is exciting and freeing to dress up and have no one know who you are, and to watch those around you while trying to guess their identity. How romantic would it be to waltz with a handsome stranger?" She ended on a dreamy sigh, as was her wont this Season.

He was about to point out that if the man was masked, how would she know if he was handsome, but then thought better of it. Flora was romantic at heart, and not interested in some clandestine affair that would result in scandal. Let her enjoy her silly notions. He knew all too well that those tarnished with time.

The moment he'd been anticipating arrived when his aunt stated matter-of-factly, "Lady Adams is expecting you to join us."

"Yes, I know, and it would not serve to disappoint the very influential Lady Adams," he replied, his words dripping with sarcasm.

"So, you do listen," Aunt Adeline teased.

"From time to time," he jested in return. As much as he was not fond of London during the Season, he was enjoying this time with his family. With each passing year, it seemed as if responsibilities demanded more of him, leaving less time for these casual visits. He was not one to sit idle, letting his stewards run every aspect of his estates. Quite the contrary. Titus made certain to visit each property to see firsthand how things were running, and to visit the tenants, making sure their needs were met.

"And I'm glad you're continuing on with your father's legacy of aiding Mr. Mann's cause," his aunt said, much to his surprise. Titus had not wanted anyone to know and thought he'd kept those activities secretive. He didn't do what he did for recognition or accolades. Inwardly, he sighed. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. His aunt seemed to find out all sorts of information about him and his life.

"How did you know?"

"You're just like your father." Her eyes softened with affection. "Always looking out for everyone but yourself."

Titus's father had been the best, most caring man he'd ever known. He hadn't deserved the ill-treatment at the hands of his estranged wife, that was for certain. Although he'd never said an ill word about her, Father had warranted so much more. At the very least, he'd had a true friend in the late Lord Lamont.

The day Lord Lamont had died had been one of the most difficult for Titus's father. It was the only time Titus had ever seen his sire cry. And the following day, things had only worsened for both himself and his papa. Without so much as a goodbye, Portia had left.

He'd respected her mourning period, then written often, but never received a reply. Convinced that something must be wrong, he'd gone to his father with his concerns. Without hesitation, his father had taken immediate action. When Papa had inquired after Portia while they'd visited the new Lord Lamont, they'd been assured that Portia was enjoying her new life with his sister, Judith. After that, Titus had no alternative but to convince himself that all that mattered was Portia's happiness. He'd resolved that one day, somehow, he would see her again.

But for now, he would not give her another thought.

Liar. You cannot stop thinking about her.

His earliest memories were of spending time with Portia, running through meadows, splashing through streams, and exploring the countryside while their fathers discussed all sorts of intellectual pursuits. It had been an idyllic childhood.

He forced those thoughts into the recesses of his mind and reminded himself why he'd agreed to come to Town—to assist Aunt Adeline in finding a suitable husband for Flora.

After that task was complete, he would find a new mistress, and never think about this moment in time again.

What she had said, Adeline reflected, was true. Titus was always looking out for everyone but himself, often disregarding his own well-being. And it had only worsened since his arrival in Town. Not only had his behavior been odd as of late, he'd been distracted, and she could not understand why.

There were no mistresses or paramours presently attached to his name. Even the gossip about his rakish ways—although seemingly ever present—was at a minimum this Season. His estates were prospering, and he never gambled, so money issues weren't the source. Flora was already a success and had several admirers, including the very respectful Mr. Edmund Lavender.

So, the question remained: what, or possibly who, had Titus so preoccupied?

* * *

The carriage rolled along at a slow gait, matching the pace of the Season. Titus was already counting down the days until he could retreat to the country. He shook his head and exhaled a long sigh. He should be enjoying the company of an opera singer, an actress, or a woman who didn't want any attachments, but instead, he was weaving slowly through the traffic, with not even his imagination to save him from his sense of dissatisfaction.

Once the carriage finally made its way to the front of the line, Titus donned his mask and prepared himself for the latest lecture that was certain to come from his aunt. He was nearly an hour late, for no other reason than the immense crush on the streets. He was certain Aunt Adeline would take his delay as a sign that he didn't want to attend Lady Adams's masquerade—which was entirely true. However, he had never disappointed his relatives thus far, and he wasn't about to.

After nearly another hour searching for Adeline and Flora, he was just about to give up when he heard his aunt's firm voice from behind. "Well, it is so pleasant of you to join us this evening."

He sucked in his breath and turned to face the reprimand. Much to his surprise, despite the simple mask, her features were not full of anger, but concern. His inner anxieties instantly eased. "I apologize. The traffic?—"

"You needn't apologize. I'm just happy you're here." She looked as if she wanted to say more, but offered a smile then walked away, leaving him utterly confused.

He spent the next half hour in search of a quiet corner, trying to avoid dancing and socializing. For reasons he could not explain, he was restless this evening. Actually, not just restless, but done in. Perhaps it was the gossip that had begun to circulate about his and Lady Richardson's not-so-clandestine affair. There was no truth in it, but it annoyed him just the same. Or perhaps, it was the fact that he'd been on his best behavior this Season and hadn't bedded a woman since arriving in Town. He rolled his eyes heavenward, praying for the patience to endure what might come his way over the coming weeks.

Between the young ladies vying for his attention, their mamas lurking behind them, and the size of the crowd, Titus could not wait to leave. If he was this impatient at eight and twenty, what would he be like in his dotage?

Could he make a quick escape without anyone noticing? The rooms were dimly lit, creating intimate shadows that added to the allure of the evening, but even so—and despite his costume, which didn't entirely conceal his identity—there were those in attendance who made it their business to know the comings and goings of everyone, and who would most likely report back to their hostess. Lady Adams was one of the premier hostesses in Town this Season, so he knew he must endure for Flora's sake.

"Oh, Lord Ravensworth!" A high-pitched voice belonging to Lady Baldwin rippled across the colorful feathered headdresses, striking a nerve in his neck. He didn't need to look her way to know that she had her daughter in tow. For five years, Lady Baldwin had been trying to secure a marriage proposal for her awkwardly awkward daughter, Hortensia, who wore a permanent scowl on her face and never had a pleasant comment about anything or anyone. His aversion was to both daughter and mother.

A shudder ran down his spine at just the thought of becoming related to Lady Baldwin. He wouldn't put it past the desperate mama to scheme a scandal with him at the center, just to marry her daughter off. For Flora's sake or not, he would not endure Lady Baldwin's attempt at wrapping the parson's noose about his neck. He turned and, with haste, maneuvered through the crush in the opposite direction, and that's when he saw her.

Who was the goddess in a blue silk dress that accentuated her curves and shimmered against the dullness of those around her?

He gently pushed through the crowd, scarcely noticing those around him. Although the goddess's face was covered by an ornate mask, her eyes pulled him, begging him to drink in their blue depths. Much to his delight, she did not move, but continued to hold his gaze.

As he reached her, the first chords of a waltz began to play. He offered his hand and was rewarded with a beautifully seductive smile. No words were spoken as he guided her through the steps across the ballroom. Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony as lavender and lemon enveloped his senses, reminding him of a distant summer day.

Who was she?

He desperately wanted time alone with her, to discover her identity, to know if she felt the same intense attraction. Propriety dictated that he return her to her chaperone after the dance, but then again, he'd never been one for propriety. He wouldn't do anything to ruin her, he just wanted a moment… alone.

As the music came to a soft end, he guided her toward the open door that led onto a small balcony. It wasn't the quiet location he desired, but at least they were mostly by themselves. Only once they were outside did he attempt to speak.

However, for the first time in his life, words escaped him. All he could do was stare into her eyes that looked so familiar, and yet he was certain he did not know her. How could this be?

Music and loud chatter spilled onto the balcony, making it difficult for him to hear his mystery goddess's soft voice. "Thank you for the dance." She worried her bottom lip as she started to move away. "I should return to my relative."

"Please don't go." He closed the distance, and then without thought for consequence, brushed a kiss across her lips. He rarely kissed women, believing it was too personal. And yet, he hadn't thought twice about kissing this woman. When she didn't pull away, he deepened the kiss, savoring the essence of this vision who'd entranced him the moment he'd laid eyes on her.

Her lips were as silky as rose petals, and just as sweet. Her fingertips caressed the back of his neck in gentle circles, sending a wave of want down his spine. Their breath mingled as tongues intertwined in a seductive dance that had him begging for more. Never in his life had he felt such a connection to a woman. Never in his life had he thrown all caution to the wind and indulged in such a kiss. This was personal, passionate, intimate, and he wanted more.

As the kiss slowed, a lovely soft sigh escaped her lips. "That was…"

"Heavenly." His cheek brushed across her mask, reminding him that he'd yet to discover her identity. "What's your name?"

She jumped back, startling them both. Her eyes were wide with shock. "You… you don't know who I am, Lord Ravensworth?"

His mind searched through the numerous women of the ton, and yet, he could not place the goddess before him. But he knew her. He knew he knew her.

"Of course, I do." He stepped in closer, a breath away, wanting to feel the warmth, the desire emanating from her. "You are the siren of my dreams, the angel of my heart, the temptress of my soul." Never in his life had he been so intoxicated by a woman, so enthralled.

That's not true. The thought tickled his remembrances.

A bout of laughter rolled out onto the balcony, interrupting their interlude.

"I must return to my chaperone." Although her words were quiet, they were laced with panic. Panic and sadness. Why should she be sad?

He reached for her hand, but she practically jumped out of reach as if just burned by fire. "Please don't leave. Just?—"

"I must." And with that, she turned and rushed back into the noisy ballroom.

Titus followed, but no sooner had he reentered than he was waylaid once more by Lady Baldwin. Damn. The moment was ruined, but he vowed to discover the mysterious goddess's identity. He would find her again.

"Lord Ravensworth, you naughty boy, you mustn't keep running off. Many a lady wishes to dance with you, including my lovely daughter." No sooner had the words left the unpleasant woman's mouth than she pushed her offspring forward, practically colliding with Titus.

Those around seemed to take note of the occurrence. He sucked in a breath. He had two options, do his duty, or risk the gossip and Flora's chances. He did his duty.

"May I have the next dance, Miss Baldwin?" he ground out with impatience. His evening had just gone from heavenly to hellish.

Titus kissed me.

Titus had kissed her.

Titus had kissed her, and he didn't know who she was.

How could he not know her?

Had she really changed that much? The face that stared back at her in the mirror appeared the same as the girl of fifteen, although she was a full-grown woman now, with curves to match. And when she'd first spied Titus at Lady Saddler's ball, she'd known him instantly.

Portia pushed her way through the thunderous gaiety all around, practically running through the ballroom, desperate for a quiet spot. She'd just rounded the corner when she bumped right into Miss Roseland.

She tried to form a coherent sentence as she attempted to slide past her friend, but only syllables formed on her lips. "Oh, I…I…"

"Are you alright, Miss Lamont?" Miss Roseland, dressed as a fairy, questioned with concern, halting Portia's escape.

"Quite alright. I'm just overheated," she managed to say without crying, thankful she could speak in full sentences.

"The ladies' retiring room is just down that way," her new friend pointed out. "Would you like company?"

"That is very kind of you, but I just need a moment." Without further words, Portia then made her escape, passing the retiring room in search of a spot away from all the chaos and gossip.

How was it possible that Titus did not know her?

Over the past weeks, they'd attended some of the same functions, but had never interacted. She'd made certain of it. She still hadn't reconciled herself with the past. But tonight, when she'd spied him from across the room, and their eyes had met, she was certain that he hadn't forgotten about her, that he knew her, even with the ornate mask in place. It felt just like it had when they were adolescents, only different.

Hundreds of butterflies had fluttered within as she'd watched him cross the crowded room toward her, taking her in his arms as the waltz began. She'd never imagined she could experience such a glorious moment, and then when he'd whisked her onto the balcony and kissed her, all the love she'd ever felt for him had bubbled to the surface. Never had she imagined a kiss such as that! And then, it was over, and her love for him trampled upon once again.

Tears stung her eyes as she recalled the confusion she'd seen lacing his eyes. Not only had he not remembered her, he'd forgotten her.

"There you are!" Judith's stern voice broke through the heartache.

Portia sniffed back the tears, masked her features, and gave the same excuse she'd given Miss Roseland. "It was too warm, and… and I became overheated and needed air."

Much to her surprise, Judith agreed. "It is rather warm this evening. I do not know why Lady Adams invited so many guests. Hilarie is suffering from the same affliction and we must depart at once."

Too lost in her own sorrows, Portia simply offered a slight half-smile, then followed her relatives to their waiting conveyance, thankful Judith did not press the issue.

By the time she crossed the threshold to her room, she was exhausted and brokenhearted. The evening had started so promisingly. The nerves that had seemed to consume her since arriving in Town had subsided to gentle butterflies of excitement. For the first time in a very long time, she'd felt beautiful on the inside and out, wearing a shimmering gown made just for her. But the evening had quickly soured.

How would she ever face Titus the next time she saw him? She wished there was someone she could talk to, who could offer advice.

When she'd lived at Oaks Park, Mrs. Darnel had been her confident and teacher of all things a young woman should know about. Oh, how she wished Mrs. Darnel was here now to explain the tingles colliding with the uncertainty, confusion, and fear that were coursing through her body.

The letter.

She'd very nearly forgotten about the letter that Mrs. Darnel had handed to her the evening before she departed. She'd told Portia not to open it right away, but to wait until she needed reassurance or guidance. This was that moment.

She went to her trunk and pulled out the note, then proceeded to unfold the sheaf and read Mrs. Darnel's kind words and sage advice.

My dearest Portia,

As you embark on a new journey, remember that although I am not there with you, I am always thinking about you. You have been a great joy not only to me, but to Mr. Darnel and the entire staff.

Your talents are many and the beauty you possess is enhanced by the beauty within. Never lose sight of just how special you are. Never let those around you try to reduce you with their unkind words. But most of all, follow your heart and never lose hope.

~ Mrs. Darnel

Tears stung the corner of her eyes as the words on the page blurred. Although the letter did not offer the advice she sought, it eased her worries and calmed her soul. She would not lose hope. She would do as she'd always had done, press on. Through the years, perseverance had become one of her attributes.

She returned the precious note to her trunk. She would not think about Titus or the kiss, at least not for now. It was best that she put her efforts in elsewhere tonight. She pulled out an unfinished gown in soft peach. It had been one of Olive's unwanted garments that she'd been given at the last moment. It wasn't the prettiest dress, and still didn't quite fit around the bust, but there was only so much she could do. Hopefully, once the modifications were complete, it would be a little more worthy for the Season.