Chapter 7

Titus had enjoyed a casual dinner with his aunt and cousin, although all through the meal, he could not escape the suspicion that his aunt was holding her tongue. When they retired to the parlor, he discovered the full extent of how much she was holding back.

No sooner than had he taken his seat than she blatantly questioned, "What is your aversion to marriage?"

Flora watched with curious eyes, clearly interested in what he would say next. He didn't want to dash his aunt's hopes for a blissful match, but would not lie to her just the same. He had his reasons and would not discuss the wounding details; he would keep to the most obvious facts.

"None of the Beaumont men have been lucky in marriage," he stated as his mother's betrayal raged through him, solidifying the argument in his mind.

"That's not true," his aunt argued back as she pointed an elegant finger at him as if to emphasize her point. "Arthur and Tabitha were most happy and in love."

His annoyance rose as he tried to justify his position. "And they both died in a carriage accident. I hardly call that a success."

"That was tragic, but they were most happy while alive." His aunt narrowed her gaze, eyeing him intently. "When did you become so cynical?"

Then the confession poured from his mouth without thought. "When my mother deserted Father and me for her lover." And it climaxed when the person I thought was a friend, part of my soul, turned her back on me, and it has only worsened since she had the audacity to try and use me to help her this Season.

He was finished with this conversation. He would not discuss the past, not when he'd worked so hard to bury, to forget, to not feel.

He stood, and bowed his head to his relatives. "I wish you a good evening, Aunt Adeline, Flora."

"Titus, don't go," Flora said.

"Titus, please—" Aunt Adeline started pleading, but halted her sentence when Titus turned around with a harsh glare.

He was not going to argue. Without another word, he swung back around and took his leave, as was his wont as of late. Why couldn't the past stay buried?

* * *

All through the next day, Titus could not escape festering over the conversation he'd had with his aunt the previous evening, and for reasons he did not want to admit. He knew his mind and his heart. Knew precisely why he would not risk his heart again.

But then there's your mysterious goddess. She could be different. She could perhaps erase the heartache of the past.

But what if she couldn't? Could he take that chance?

Anxious tension continued to course through his thoughts, filtering into his every action. If he could only find her, then perhaps the answer would be clear.

Do you really want to place your happiness in the hands of another woman?

There it was, there was no doubt about it. He was headed for Bedlam. No sane man could possibly have these continuous warring thoughts storming through every inch of his being. Why was he still so at odds with himself after so many years of successfully burying the past?

By the time he entered Lady Baldwin's residence, he was in a foul mood. All he wanted to do was find her, or at the very least, bury his woes in a stiff drink, but instead, he found himself on the cusp of enduring an unpleasant evening all because of obligation. Why Aunt Adeline and Flora had accepted this invitation was beyond him.

His mood continued to deteriorate as the evening progressed. Not only had he yet to discover the identity of his masked goddess, he could not stop thinking about Portia. Why could he not stop thinking about her?

You feel guilty for not coming to her aid when she practically pleaded, his conscience nagged.

She wasn't his responsibility.

You still care for her.

That is beside the point! his heart and mind argued.

Is it?

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Portia dancing. No, not just dancing, but smiling and having a wonderful time with her partner. She appeared so calm and at ease with the man.

As she was with you at one time.

Who was the young chap?

A foreign sensation crept up from the depths of his gut. What could… No, it could not be… Jealousy?

What did he have to be jealous of? He was wealthy, with relatively good looks. He was not lacking for anything. He could have any woman he wanted, and had. There was nothing for him to be envious of. Her affairs were her own and didn't involve him.

Obligation or not, he needed to get away from this place. He would not be made a fool of again.

Portia didn't care if she got an earful from Judith later that evening. It was more important to avoid Lord Webber and earn Judith's wrath, than to have said lord believe she was accepting his pursuit. She'd yet to catch the eye of another gentleman, not to mention no other had appealed to her, and time was running out.

Titus. His name whispered across her thoughts, but she quickly dismissed it. She could not dwell on what could never be.

Thankfully for her, Judith and Hilarie were preoccupied with the unveiling of the portrait of Miss Baldwin commemorating her nineteenth birthday. Some of the guests had filtered into the main gallery where the portrait hung, but many stayed in the ballroom and continued to dance. Portia did not know if this was how things were done in Town but it seemed rather odd to her. Then again, Lord and Lady Baldwin and their only child were rather odd. She did not care for the family, their gossiping ways, or their belief that they were above reproach.

Pressed against the wall, she scanned the room, wondering what the appeal of all this extravagance was, when out of the corner of her eye she spotted a familiar figure she would recognize anywhere.

"Albert," she called as she rushed to her nephew's side.

"Portia! I was hoping to see you." Her nephew's joyful greeting was music to her ears. Oh, how she'd missed him.

"You are the last person I expected to see here this evening. What are you doing in Town?" Although he'd written to the family often, it had been a couple of years since she'd seen him. He'd grown into such a tall, handsome man.

"I'm here with a friend. We're traveling to Sussex to visit his grandfather and decided to stay a night in London." Ever since Albert had been sent away to school, he'd always found a reason to not return to his parents' home, often spending holidays with friends or his paternal grandmother. She could certainly understand his reasons. Albert nodded his head to where a couple was standing. "That's Chapman over there, with his sister, Jane. She is out this Season and he wanted to see how she is faring."

"Speaking of sisters, have you seen Hilarie, or your mother?" Portia asked as she glanced about, looking for the two women in question. She did not want to be accused of withholding information… again.

Albert scrunched his nose in disgust. "No, and I don't care to." She was about to comment when he spoke up, "And don't tell me I should. I have never got on well with either, and never cared for how Mother treated you."

Portia had always kept her complaints regarding her half-siblings to herself, and had never wanted any of the children to choose sides. However, once they were old enough, it had been hard for them not to notice how she was treated.

Whereas Albert stood up for Portia, Hilarie always sought opportunities to throw Portia under the carriage wheel. Even the twins had noticed from an early age how she was treated. They were only five years old when they'd first defended her honor, demanding Hilarie speak to Portia with more kindness and to not be so mean. Her half-brother-in-law had thought it a lark and dismissed the twins' protests, but Judith had scolded the boys fiercely and forbade them from playing outdoors for two days. From that moment on, they'd been loyal to Portia.

"You deserve all the happiness in the world, Portia." Albert's warm, caring words touched her heart.

"So do you, my darling, so do you." In that moment, Portia did not feel so alone, quite the contrary. She might not have many prospects, but she was loved by Albert and the twins, and that was a most precious gift.

Albert offered his arm, and said, "Would you care to dance?" He leaned in and said, "You were always my favorite dance partner."

It seemed as if it were ages ago when Portia had first taught Albert to dance. He'd proved to be a natural dancer, so graceful on his feet. "I would be honored."

Portia could not remember the last time she'd enjoyed herself this much. She felt much more herself with her nephew, and all her worries faded for a brief moment. But it was not to last as thoughts of a night not too long ago, and a beautiful waltz, crept into her mind.

The masquerade.

No, she inwardly shook her head. She would not think about that night, not now. It had been a single night where she'd experienced a magical kiss, but nothing more would ever come of it.

Over the years, she'd become a master at stamping down her feelings, and she would continue to do so. She would just enjoy the Season and hope for the best. At least she had tea with Lady Whitby and her niece to look forward to tomorrow.

* * *

Portia was excited about visiting Lady Whitby and her niece, and equally pleased that Judith and Hilarie were engaged elsewhere. She hadn't bothered to tell them what her plans for the day were, and vice versa.

Somehow, Lady Whitby had information that Judith and Hilarie had another engagement. Portia had no idea how the countess knew, as she herself had learned from one of the servants that mother and daughter were spending the morning at the modiste before attending luncheon with Lady Baldwin. But whomever Lady Whitby's sources were, they were correct.

The gentle sound of the clip-clopping of horse's hooves drifted around her. Portia was very much enjoying the outing, and it had only just begun. "Thank you for accompanying me, Katie," she said to one of her half-sister's downstairs maids, who sat opposite her in the carriage.

"It wouldn't be proper for you to travel alone, Miss Lamont."

"Even still, it's nice to have company," Portia said with all the sincerity she felt. It was a rarity in her life to have friends and companionship, and she cherished those greatly.

Over the past weeks, the young servant, although not a lady's maid, had been very willing to aid Portia in readying for events. If it weren't for Katie, Portia wasn't certain she would have been presentable for the Season.

"And thank you for doing my hair today." Despite the out-of-fashion dress she was wearing, Portia actually felt somewhat pretty.

"You are most welcome." Katie beamed with pride. Judith often time degraded the girl's skills.

Several silent minutes passed as the hackney rolled along at a pleasant clip, journeying toward the most fashionable part of Town. The part where Judith highly desired her only daughter would reside.

"You are far too kind to be forced to live with the likes of Lady Oaks and Miss Oaks." Katie's sudden admission came as quite a surprise. Not the actual words, but that she was willing to make such a comment. "I probably shouldn't have said that, but you deserve better than them, and it's how I feel."

Portia reached out and squeezed Katie's hand in friendship. "I appreciate your honesty. Kindness is important."

"Most important," the maid agreed with a wide smile. "Anything I can do to help, please just ask."

"And if there is any way in which I can assist you, do the same." Although Portia wasn't quite certain what aid she could provide, especially considering her current situation, but she would do her best.

A short time later, Katie was below stairs with the other maids of the household, and Portia was ensconced in an elegant drawing room filled with an abundance of blossoms in various hues of red and pink. It was clear that Lady Whitby had a fondness for flowers.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lamont," the very elegant Dowager Countess of Whitby said as she entered the room.

Not knowing what else to do, Portia offered a rather clumsy curtsy in her estimation. "Good afternoon, Lady Whitby." The words left her mouth in a quaver, announcing loud and clear that she was nervous.

"Please, my dear, no need to stand on ceremony amongst friends." With those last words, Portia's nerves eased a little. Friends. She did have friends now. Friends who offered such kindness even though only recently introduced.

"Thank you," she said, worrying her hands slightly. Venturing out on her own was a new experience for her. "I appreciate the invitation." It was the absolute truth. For the first time in her adult life, she felt like she actually had… a life.

"I am so glad you were able to come for a visit," Lady Whitby said, the unspoken part of her sentence—without your relatives—hanging in the air. Portia was still baffled how the countess knew of her relations' plans. "My niece will be joining us in a few minutes. I thought it would be pleasant if we spend the afternoon becoming better acquainted."

"That would be very nice," Portia said.

"Oh, here she is now," Lady Whitby announced as a lovely young lady with shimmering blonde hair and bright blue eyes glided into the room. In Portia's estimation, she was an ideal beauty. "Miss Lamont, allow me to introduce my niece, Miss Flora Beaumont."

Beaumont. That was Titus's family name. What a strange coincidence. She wondered if it was a common surname amongst the ton.

Just as before, she stumbled through her greeting, and just as her aunt had done, Miss Beaumont put her at her ease. "It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I am looking forward to us becoming better friends."

These two women were the nicest that Portia had ever met, not that she'd met very many women of the ton.

"Shall we have tea?" Lady Whitby said with a wave of her hand, guiding Portia to an elegantly appointed round table with service for three.

After discussing the pleasant weather they were experiencing this Season, the various upcoming entertainments that were scheduled, and their favorite diversions, Lady Whitby launched into a different topic, one Portia wasn't certain she wished to talk about. She'd always been very guarded with her heart and feelings, especially when it came to her loved ones.

"Who was the handsome gentleman you were dancing with at Lady Baldwin's the other evening?" Lady Whitby asked with keen interest as she poured more tea.

Handsome gentleman? The only gentleman she'd danced with at that event was— "Oh, that was my nephew, Mr. Albert Oaks."

The spot between Lady Whitby's brows crinkled as she asked, "Lady Oaks's eldest son?"

Portia could not keep the surprise from her voice. "Yes. I hadn't realized you were acquainted with my half-sister and her family."

"Oh, yes. I'm familiar with all your half-siblings. I was a girl when the first Lady Lamont was brought to Primrose Manor as a bride." She tsked a couple of times. "So unfortunate that she died in childbirth when the youngest living child was only a couple of years old. I don't think her children ever recovered from the tragedy."

Lady Whitby was the late Lord William Ravensworth's sister?

All the pieces suddenly came together as alarm bells rang through her head. These were Titus's relatives? Lady Whitby was his aunt? And that meant Miss Beaumont was his cousin. Oh no! Heat consumed every inch of her body as she looked over to where the beautiful young woman sat, suddenly seeing some of the family resemblance.

A fierce pain struck her midsection. This was not good, not good at all.

After the way Titus had dismissed her, she was certain that he would be livid if he discovered she was here. In her mind, the situation was spiraling out of control. She shouldn't have accepted the invitation. What had she been thinking? What could she possibly say? She swallowed hard, fighting the dread that was rising to the surface. "Perhaps it would be best if I took my leave and?—"

"Why?" Miss Beaumont questioned, clearly not seeing the full situation.

"Your… your cousin and I are..." Portia forced the lump in her throat down. How was she to be diplomatic in her word choice? And then, before she could think of a more appropriate reason, she blurted, "We're not on the best of terms." That was an understatement. He still did not suspect that it was she that he'd kissed. And equally as bad, he thought her to be using him for his connections. And here she was, sitting with his aunt and cousin. She was certain that he would renew his assertions with a thunderous roar. Oh, when had her life got so complicated?

"Nonsense," Lady Whitby said as she firmly placed her teacup on the saucer, rattling the spoon in the process. "My nephew can be difficult, but if he has an objection, then that's his problem. I invited you here, knowing full well your association to the family."

Lady Whitby knew of her?

"But why…how?"

The countess's tone softened as she explained, "William spoke fondly of your father, and took his passing very hard. I wanted the opportunity to meet you."

"But I still should not have come," Portia started to proclaim.

The older woman reiterated her previous sentiments. "Miss Lamont, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about."

"Aunt Adeline is right," Flora chimed in. "My cousin may be an ogre at times, but he doesn't stand a chance against us."

Lady Whitby nodded her head in agreement. "You leave Titus to us." She took another sip and then suggested, "Would you care to take a turn in the park with us? It is such a fine day."

Instinct told her to decline. It would not be wise to encounter her half-sibling. But the part of her that was always locked up, always minding her manners, always doing as she was told, begged for release, and besides, Judith and Hilarie might not be there. It was time to start experiencing life.

She didn't know what she'd done to earn such kindness, but she was enjoying the companionship and decided to seize the opportunity.

"I would be delighted."

An hour later, the three ladies were meandering through Hyde Park in an open carriage, taking in the splendid day. Portia could not remember the last time she'd enjoyed the company of others this much. Certainly, she'd enjoyed spending time with the twins, but this was different.

All too soon, the enjoyment faded as she spied Titus's handsome figure atop a magnificent chocolate colored horse. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and he looked as if he was about to turn away when his aunt called to him.

"Titus! Won't you greet your aunt this fine afternoon?" The amusement in his relative's voice clearly did not sit well with him.

He rolled his eyes as if the simple task of saying hello to them was an enormous inconvenience, and Portia knew without a doubt, she was the source of his irritation.

As Titus rode the short distance toward their conveyance, a nervous anxiety stormed through her veins. The feeling only worsened when he nodded his head, greeting his aunt and cousin, while avoiding eye contact with her. She was not surprised that he did not want to acknowledge her presence. He probably thought she was using his relations to gain connections. But his initial grievances against her stemmed from something else. She still didn't know what she'd done to earn such scorn from her one-time friend.

"May I introduce Miss Lamont?—"

"I am acquainted with her." He nodded his head once again, bid them good day, and took off in the opposite direction.

"That was quite rude of him," Flora said with utter disgust. "Whatever is the matter with him?"

Lady Whitby gave Portia a curious glance. What could she possibly say to counter their suspicions? She didn't want to cause any rift within his family.

"I apologize. Just as I thought, I should not have accepted your invitation today. Something happened in the past and—" She clamped her mouth shut, realizing she'd said too much.

"You have no need to apologize," Lady Whitby began, "Never believe you are not welcome." Portia was about to breathe a sigh of relief when the woman added, "And what did happen in the past?"

She and Flora both focused on Portia, waiting for her to explain. She suspected the pair were truly concerned, and not for reasons based on exchanging gossip.

She sucked in a breath, and on a long, slow exhale, started to explain, "I don't know what happened between us. After my father died, I was sent to live with Judith. I kept no friends save Albert and the twins, and led a rather secluded life. So…" She shook her head, wishing she had a better explanation. "I truly don't know."

"Was something said when Titus went to visit you at the Oaks residence?" Lady Whitby questioned, concern lacing her words.

Portia shook her head. Perhaps Lady Whitby was confused. "Titus never came to visit me."

"Oh, my dear, but he did." Lady Whitby's words struck to the core of her heart. "My brother and nephew called on you."

She shook her head again, hardly believing the words she was hearing. "I… I don't…"

"A grand carriage has just arrived," Albert said as he rushed into the room, followed by Lord Oaks.

"Albert. Out." The roar of Lord Oaks's voice shook Portia to her core.

She kept her mouth shut. She'd never seen Judith's husband in such a rage.

"You are to stay in here." He pointed a finger at her, emphasizing his point, then turned and left the room. As if to ensure Portia obeyed him, she heard the door being locked. Hours later, long after the sun had set, only then was she allowed out of her room.

Not even Mrs. Darnel discovered who'd come to call that distant day.

"Oh no… It couldn't have been…" She fought to maintain control. She was in an open carriage, for all the ton to see, to take note of, to gossip about.

"Miss Lamont?" Lady Whitby's voice broke through the pain as her comforting hand took Portia's within hers.

"I…I'm s…sorry," she sniffled the words. "I just… I didn't know." Titus had visited her. He had cared. What must he have thought of her when she didn't see him? Is that why he was acting the way he did now? Did he truly believe she'd refused to see him and his father?

"There's no need for apologies, my dear. We can talk later. Let's just enjoy what's left of the day," Lady Whitby said as Flora nodded.

They pasted on smiles and greeted passersby as if nothing untoward had happened, as if Portia's heart wasn't breaking, shattering.

As the afternoon progressed, Portia was thankful that neither of her companions pressed her to speak. Not that she could without crying. She was too numb to do anything but pretend she belonged.