Chapter 5

She had to be here, Titus thought as he scanned the room for the goddess who'd been consuming his thoughts since the masquerade. Never in his life had he been this attracted to someone. He was a rake through and through, never succumbing to a woman's wiles, and yet here he was, after one kiss, a besotted, lovesick boy. Perhaps she didn't exist, and she was a figment of his deprived imagination.

No, she existed. His imagination was not that creative.

And what do you intend to do once you discover her identity?

Therein lay the problem. He couldn't very well seduce an innocent and make her his mistress, but he'd also vowed to never marry. Perhaps he should give up his search and?—

No. You need to discover who she is.

Damn. How could one woman have such an effect on him after such a brief encounter?

"Who are we looking for?" his cousin questioned as she strolled up next to him and proceeded to scan the room.

"We are not looking for anyone. I am looking for?—"

"A particular lady?" The hope in Flora's question matched the look of elation on her face.

"How did you know?" He was certain his eyes were wide with shock. Was nothing sacred? He looked around and noticed several ladies standing suspiciously close. Close enough to overhear their conversation. He pulled Flora farther from prying ears. "How did you know?" he repeated in barely a whisper.

"What else could it be? You have been… different these past couple of days, and Aunt Adeline suspects it must be because of a woman. Are we correct?"

He rolled his eyes. Damn it all, but the ladies in his life were incorrigible.

"So…" Flora dragged the single word out before continuing, "Who is she?" A couple of seconds passed and when he didn't answer, she added, "I'll keep trying to weasel it out of you until you finally tell me."

Titus let out a long sigh. He knew Flora would not let it go and pester him no end until he obliged. Perhaps she knew who his mystery female was?

"Alright," he acquiesced on a sigh, then added his conditions. "But not here. Later, when we're alone at the house."

She eyed him as if she didn't quite believe him.

He held up his hand. "I promise."

"Very well." She pointed a delicate gloved finger at him. "I will remind you later of this discussion."

"I'm certain you will," he teased. At least he was safe from her inquiring mind for the time being.

Now, all he had to do was discover her identity, then he could contemplate his next course of action. He was certain he would know her the moment she walked into a room.

Hours later, Titus, not wanting to retire to his own dark and lonely townhouse—where past memories played upon his mind—had returned to his aunt's home, deflated and dejected. His mystery lady had not made an appearance, and worse still, he'd been cornered by Lady Deborah and Miss Baldwin, and Portia had not been in attendance. He wanted to know why she didn't want anything to do with him, dammit. Why had she been avoiding him since the Season began? Her presence in Town still made no sense to him. Why had she returned now?

After his unsuccessful attempt at discovering the identity of the masked woman, he was too anxious to do anything but stare into the fireplace, watching the embers fade.

"You're still awake?" Flora said as she sauntered into the library.

"Of course, we have a discussion to resume." This was one way to pass the time, he supposed. "What is it that you would like to know?"

"The name of the woman you were searching for this evening," she said as she took the seat across from him, then tucked her stockinged feet beneath the folds of her gown.

Frustration simmered within as he said the words. "I don't know."

A single blonde brow raised in question. "You don't know, or won't tell?"

He let out a long sigh. "I don't know! All I can think about is her, and I don't even know her name."

His cousin tsked several times before speaking. "Well, you don't have to raise your voice. Perhaps I may help. I do know quite a few ladies and…" Her words died for a moment before she turned a scolding eye on him, and continued, "She is a proper lady and not some paramour or opera singer?"

"Yes, she is a proper lady." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "And how do you know about such things?"

Flora crossed her arms and then, in a most childlike manner, said, "I'm eighteen. There are lots of things I know."

Heaven help him. "Do I even want to know?" he murmured under his breath. He was too old for this.

"Do you want my help discovering who your mystery lady is or not?" She ended with a huff. His cousin might understand some of the ways of the world, but in many regards, she was still a child, and he intended on keeping her as innocent as possible for as long as he could.

"Yes, I want your help," he retorted, not hiding the irritability coursing through his veins. "I danced with her at the masquerade and?—"

"And you saw a beautiful lady in the distance and crossed the room, whisking her into a waltz, and then declared your love," Flora said in a breathy voice.

"Not quite but?—"

"I want to hear all the details," she begged as she clasped her hands together with anticipation.

"No."

The single word was meant to brook no argument, but his cousin did not take the meaning. "No? How am I to aid you if I don't know?—"

"Fine. She was wearing a shimmering blue dress and a mask that covered most of her face, and?—"

"But then, how did you notice her? Lots of ladies were wearing masks," she remarked, pointing out the obvious.

"I turned to escape Lady Baldwin when?—"

"Oh, she is a vile gossip." Flora scrunched her nose as if she caught a whiff of something unpleasant.

How would he ever finish his story if his cousin constantly interrupted? "I agree, but do you want to hear or?—"

"I most definitely do. Please go on," she encouraged with a smile, then a wave of her hand.

"Thank you for the permission," he said with a nod of his head. "As I was saying, I turned to escape Lady Baldwin when I saw her." Images of his goddess flooded his mind as he described their all-too brief encounter. "She wore a blue silk dress and an intricate mask that covered most of her face, but even from a short distance, her blue eyes shined through, pulling me in. And when I finally reached her, no words were spoken as I offered my hand and took her in a waltz. Not wanting the moment to end, I waltzed her through the open doors and onto the balcony." Then their lips had touched, and the intoxicating mixture of lavender and lemon had enveloped them in a fragrant cocoon. That scent still filled his senses as if it were only yesterday.

"And then what happened?" His cousin's question broke through his remembrances.

He blinked several times, focusing on the present. "She left without giving me her name." He simply had to discover who she was. It was driving him absolutely mad.

"You're smitten after one dance and an interlude on the balcony?" Flora's question filled him with a mixture of anxiety and hope.

"There was no interlude, and I am certainly not smitten."

Liar. On both accounts.

* * *

Portia hadn't been feeling quite the same since her time with Titus. Her head was still spinning, reeling with questions, mixed emotions, and uncertainty. When she'd informed Judith that she was unwell, no sooner had the words left her mouth, than her half-sibling had stated with a wide smile that she believed it best Portia stay in for the evening and not attend Lady Tabard's soirée. It was the outcome Portia had hoped for, but her sister's unhidden enthusiasm still stung. And even worse was the dismissal by her other relatives, leaving her feeling as if she was regarded as less than members of staff.

By the next morning, she was feeling slightly better, having slept through the night. That was until she joined her relatives for breakfast in the parlor.

"Oh, so I see you finally decided to join us," Judith sneered, then took a sip of tea.

Portia did not answer, but simply offered a smile as she took her seat at the table. As was expected, she sat in silence while Judith and Hilarie recounted their evening.

"It would seem that after three seasons, Miss Roseland has finally made a match," Hilarie commented with a disparaging smile. Portia's joy at her friend's success was overshadowed by Hilarie's sneer, identical to the one her mother had just offered. "I don't see what is so appealing about her."

"She is only engaged to Mr. Hale," Judith flippantly remarked. "I would have never considered him for you. Portia, perhaps, but not you, my sweet. I think there are other, more worthy gentlemen to consider."

"Who?" Hilarie leaned in, awaiting her mother's response.

"Well, there's Lord Campbell and Mr. Bolton?—"

"Mr. Bolton? Really, Mother, not him," Hilarie said. "He's quite fat and not at all handsome."

"Well, that fat man has an income of fifteen thousand a year," Judith said, practically drooling over the man's worth.

"I suppose he'll do," Hilarie conceded. Clearly, the girl was impressed by money, but that was no guarantee for a happy life. Although, Portia would hardly call life with the Oaks family happy. "But only as an alternative choice. I much prefer someone like Lord Ravensworth," Hilarie said with a big sigh.

"Yes, he would make a fine husband. And just think, you could be a countess," Judith said. "Yes, he would do nicely."

Pain constricted around Portia's heart as she listened, curious to know just how her childhood friend had changed. Perhaps, then, she could reason with the past, with the masquerade, with all the feelings colliding within.

Hilarie practically swooned as she spoke. "He is, without a doubt, the most handsome gentleman in Town this Season."

Portia could not disagree with Hilarie's statement. Titus was handsome, but more than that, he used to be her friend, her confidant, the person who'd consoled her when her world had come crashing down.

"I'm so scared," she'd confessed through heavy sobs. The news that her father was dying had ruptured her world.

Titus brought her within the folds of his embrace and just held her. "It will be alright. You have your half-siblings, and my father, and you will always have me." Something shifted between them. Something her fifteen-year-old self could not comprehend but knew was special. With Titus's words, suddenly, the world didn't seem so bleak.

If only it had lasted.

Portia still did not understand why her dearest friend had abandoned her. Not for the first time, she wondered if she had done something to upset him? In those early days spent in the loneliness of her room at the Oaks residence, worry over what she'd possibly could've done had consumed her waking moments and filtered into her nightmares. Nightmares that only intensified with the years.

"From what I overheard, he's been known as quite the rake about Town," Judith paused for a moment, then added, "But that isn't necessarily a bad thing. There are plenty of reasons a man is a rake."

Of course, he was a rake, Portia's thought was heavy with sarcasm. What woman could resist those good looks worthy of Adonis and Corinthian physique?

"He is only attending this Season because of his cousin. And…" Judith took in a long breath, adding drama to the gossip she was no doubt about to reveal. "I have it on good authority from Lady Baldwin that he is not interested in marriage?—"

"Whyever not?" Hilarie said in a huff, as if the statement was directed at her personally, dashing her hopes for a match.

"Lady Baldwin overheard Lady Whitaker, Lady Harding, and Mrs. Whitbourne while at the opera several nights ago, discussing how Lord Ravensworth suffered a broken heart. Which I highly doubt. Rakes are not in possession of a heart. Regardless, he is titled and wealthy, and requires an heir to secure the future of the earldom."

"Perhaps I can change his mind about not wanting to marry," Hilarie said with a slyness that had the hairs on Portia's arm stand on end. Regardless of what happened between her and Titus, she didn't wish him to fall victim to her relatives' schemes.

"I think you're right, my love," Judith said with an equal slyness. "We need to formulate a plan on how we should proceed."

Gossip, schemes, and manipulation. This wasn't Portia's world.

A deep sigh rankled through her body. Her world no longer existed. She wasn't welcome in any of her half-siblings' homes and was expected to marry this Season—love match or not.

Love.

Her thoughts shifted to Judith's comment about Titus suffering from a broken heart. She could not help but wonder what sort of woman Titus had fallen in love with? She must have been quite beautiful and very accomplished. The future countess would have to be well-trained and comfortable amongst the ton. She would be expected to host events, entertain the upper echelons of Society, and provide heirs. And in return, he would love her, care for her, spend quiet moments in the library discussing far-off places.

She could not imagine why anyone would want to break Titus's heart. He was amusing and well-read, an excellent horseman, and caring.

Perhaps he's changed.

No. Despite the events of the Season, and what her relatives had just revealed, she knew the essence of Titus would be the same. She knew him to be kind and generous, just like his late father.

There had been so many occasions in her youth when she would accompany the late Lord Ravensworth and Titus to deliver food baskets to their tenants. She'd always felt a great sense of goodness during those outings, and enjoyed talking to the various people she'd met, especially the children. Oh, how she'd reveled in their sense of adventure. One year, during the Easter festival, she and Titus had created a treasure map and hidden eggs for the children to find. It wasn't much, but to see their smiles and happy faces, one would have thought they'd been given a pirate's treasure.

"And you must accept when he offers," Judith's firm words broke through the joyful memories.

The words her sister spoke did not register in her mind at first. "Who is offering for whom?" she questioned with rising anxiety, dreading the answer as her half-sibling's dark brown eyes bore into her.

Judith let out a long huff. "Haven't you heard a word I said?" She did not allow Portia to respond, but went on with her scheme. "Lord Webber. He has expressed interest in you, and I have encouraged him. When he offers, you must accept."

Panic settled into her gut. She'd only met the man once and did not care for him. They had absolutely nothing in common, and worse, he was nearly thirty years her senior. What would her life be like with such a man for a husband? He had no interest in books, exploring maps, or even walking in the countryside. His only concern was for an heir—not daughters. He'd made that perfectly clear. He had two daughters and didn't want any more, as if it was a controllable feat. She could feel the bile rise at just the thought of having to lie with him.

"But what if another gentleman offers first?" The words mumbled past her lips with desperation.

"Who would offer for you?" Judith questioned, almost with shock that she'd dared ask such a question. Portia wanted to defend herself, and was garnering the courage when, with a wave of her hand and severe tutting, Judith launched into a lecture about all the things wrong with her. "Your looks have faded over the past few years. You have no sense of fashion. You have no connections and a paltry dowry. Not to mention that you are practically on the shelf. You should consider yourself quite fortunate that a man such as Lord Webber is even interested."

At seven and twenty, Portia was hardly on the shelf. However, it was true that her dowry was small, and she had no connections…

Titus.

He was an earl. He had connections.

And he kissed you.

It had been a fleeting moment when two people had become caught up in a waltz and nothing more. He hadn't known it was her and she would leave it at that. But what if, despite his harsh glares and avoidances, he could offer some advice? Their fathers had been the best of friends, and surely that meant something to him. He wouldn't turn her away, would he?

He did abandon you all those years ago.

Perhaps it was a misunderstanding. You did nothing wrong, she tried to reason with herself as desperation took hold of common sense.

She had no other option. She had to at least try, otherwise she might find herself married off to Lord Webber. That was not an option she would even consider.