Chapter 8

As with most events this Season, Titus was not overjoyed at having to attend Lady Holland's dinner party this evening with his aunt and cousin. Betrayal was simmering, barely contained after seeing the pair of them taking a casual ride in the park with Portia.

What were his relatives about? Didn't Aunt Adeline realize the past should remain buried? He was content with his life as a rake. The next thing he knew, she would be inviting his mother for tea and biscuits.

"You might want to wipe that murderous scowl from your face before we enter," Aunt Adeline remarked as their carriage came to a gentle halt in front of their destination.

With great restraint, he held his tongue. They'd—actually, it was just him—already argued about Aunt Adeline and Flora's outing with Portia. His aunt had given nothing away of their afternoon activities or conversation, and then had had the audacity to inform Titus it was none of his business what company she kept. That had only added to his current mood.

Before too long, they were entering Lady Holland's grand parlor, where several dozen guests had already assembled, including Portia, who seemed so out of place in another ill-fashioned dress in yellowish-brown.

The moment their eyes met, sadness seemed to weigh her down, touching a part of his heart he'd closed off to the world. In the next moment, she said something to Lady Oaks, who waved her off, then she left the room.

What game was she playing? Was she purposefully toying with his heartstrings?

"I need your help… Please Titus."

Damn. Why couldn't he simply ignore her? Remembrances of a happier time drifted to the forefront of his thoughts.

"What is your fondest wish?"

Without hesitation, his sweet Portia responded, "To travel the world with those I love."

"I hope that includes me." He held his breath, waiting for her to respond. A moment later, she spoke the words that made his heart soar.

"Of course it does. Always with you, Titus. Always."

He inwardly shook his head as he slipped out of the room without attracting notice. He had to know what Portia was about, why she continued to torment him. Once in the hall, he glanced about, unsure which direction she'd ventured in. There were numerous guests on the right, which led to Lord Holland's library. He'd previously viewed Lord Holland's latest acquisition of a celestial globe, but there were others present who had not. Although he knew Portia would very much enjoy the craftsmanship and details of such a unique piece, he suspected she would want to avoid the guests.

To the left was Lord Holland's study and Lady Holland's day parlor. Perhaps she'd taken refuge in one of those rooms.

Careful not to attract attention, Titus went to the study first. Although a fire had been lit, the room was empty. He then went toward the parlor. The closed door would have kept most away, but not him. He reached for the knob and gently eased the door open.

And apparently not Portia, either.

He slipped inside the room, lit only by the dying embers in the fireplace, and just as the door clicked shut, Portia turned and demanded, "What are you doing here?"

Her tone rankled. He'd sought her out of concern and this was her reaction? Two could play at this game. "What are you doing here?"

She shook her head, seemingly searching for words. When they finally came, they were the last Titus expected to hear. "Why do you hate me so much now?" The sentence exited her mouth on a shaky breath that struck his heart.

Don't let her affect you. She left you just as Mother did. She didn't answer your letters. You're on a different path now, one that does not affect your emotions.

"I don't hate you." No, what he felt was worse than hate. Betrayal had been simmering in his blood for over a decade. "You didn't even come to the drawing room to see me, or my father." Titus could not keep the hurt and anger from his words. "I thought we were friends." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Why didn't you want to see me? Damn it, Portia, why didn't?—"

"I didn't know you'd come," she practically yelled at him, and then her words softened to a painful whisper. "I didn't know until yesterday."

"What…?" A fierce arrow pierced him, shattering what he thought had been the truth for all these years. He started walking toward her. Relief, anger, confusion… Too many conflicting thoughts and feelings vied for his attention. He deserved answers. "What do you mean, you didn't know?"

She shook her head as her eyes lowered, and then she started to move toward the door, trying to leave him once again. He was not going to let her go so easily, not this time. He wanted to know what she'd meant. Hastening to the closed door, he stepped in front of it, halting her retreat.

"Portia?"

She didn't look at him as she whispered on a quavering breath, "Please, just let me go. I promise not to bother you again."

The pull he'd always felt when she was near intensified to something even greater. An intense desire to protect her overcame him, one that he hadn't felt since he'd learned of her father's illness. "What happened?"

She turned and crossed to the other side of the room, creating a distance that stabbed at the broken pieces of his heart. With her back still to him, she spoke. "After my father died, I was sent to live with Judith."

He knew that much to be true. He'd written to her so often, but never received a reply. Through the years, he'd reminded himself that the new Lord Lamont had told Father that she was content, and then Lord Oaks said to him that Portia hadn't wanted anything to do with him. He'd buried the rejection so deep, he thought it would never find its way to the surface. But here he was, trying to understand. "I know. I wrote to you."

She shook her head. "I never received…" her words trailed off as she sniffled.

Was she crying?

Oh, dear Lord, this was pure agony. "Portia, please?—"

She whipped around, full of anger and fury, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't know you came. I was in my room when Albert rushed in and said a carriage had arrived, and the next thing I knew, Lord Oaks was demanding that I stay put. Then he locked the door." She wiped away her tears with a trembling hand. "I never knew. Since the day I entered my sister's house, my sole purpose was to care for her children and not cause trouble. I wasn't allowed to have friends, go to parties. My companions were the children and staff, and the books I snuck out of the library each night."

How could anyone treat their own flesh and blood in such a manner? Titus stepped closer. "You were a prisoner in your sister's home?"

A cynical laugh escaped her lips. "I suppose that's one way to look at it." Tears streamed down her cheeks anew, slowly washing away the fallacies that he'd been holding onto. "I didn't know you'd come. I didn't know that you cared even a little."

He'd cared more than a little, more than he was willing to admit even to himself. The rejection he'd experienced had dictated his whole adult life. He'd thought she didn't want to see him. Thought she didn't care.

Guilt stabbed at him. How could he had doubted her so easily?

Because you thought she'd abandoned you, just like Mother did.

Without thought, Titus went to her and brought her into his embrace and held her. It felt so right for her to be in his arms, the pain from the past easing a little with her confession. She had cared.

He was such an arse. How could he have doubted their friendship? Was he so tainted by his mother's actions that he distrusted all women?

He shook those questions away. He was not prepared to delve into the whys and wherefores. He didn't know if he ever would be ready.

As the minutes passed, he simply held her, tried to comfort her. The last time he'd held her like this was the day she'd learnt of her father's illness. She'd been so scared and unsure.

"I will always be here for you, Portia. No matter what may come."

Regret coursed through his body. Damn, how he'd failed her. He tightened the embrace slightly, wanting to erase the hurt and pain she'd must have endured through the years, when all of a sudden, she jumped back.

"I… I apologize. I shouldn't…." She didn't finish her sentence but ran from the room.

What had just happened?

From the moment Titus had entered the parlor with his aunt and cousin, nervous anxiety had begun to consume her, and then he'd glanced her way and she'd practically felt his hatred from across the room. Rather than cry—and earn Judith's wrath—she'd made an excuse and sought a quiet place to recover.

Why had Titus followed her? And oh, dear Lord, why did he have to hold her, comfort her now? Just as he had when they were young. Too many memories and feelings were bubbling within.

While living at the Oaks residence, she'd thought of him every day. She'd wondered if he was happy or sad, content or miserable. But most of all, she'd wanted to know if he thought about her as much as she thought of him.

He'd written to me. He'd tried to visit me.

What happened to those letters and what did they say? Judith. She knew without a doubt her half-sister was behind the disappearance of that correspondence, but what purpose would it serve to confront Judith now? Her future, her happiness, was held within her half-sister's tenacious grasp.

Another thought came to her. Had Judith intercepted the letters she'd sent to Titus too? Why did her half-siblings dislike her so?

Her situation was so very precarious and she was completely reliant on them. Fear crept up, sending shivers rippling across her body. She would not confront Judith. Not now, not ever. She did not know what her half-sister was capable of, nor did she wish to find out.

This was her lot in life.

She really did not want to endure the dinner which had yet to be announced, or all that came with it. Fortunately, Fortune decided to give her a helping hand.

"Where have you been?" Judith questioned with a severe frown as she walked back toward the parlor and the other guests. Before she could answer, Judith continued, "Never mind. Hilarie is unwell. We are leaving immediately."

Portia did not say a word, but followed her relations to their waiting carriage. The only words that were on the tip of her tongue were demands to know what had happened to the letters Titus had sent her, and why she'd been locked up when he visited. But again, common sense and utter obedience won.

She could not help but wonder if Hilarie was truly unwell, or if that was just an excuse. Her niece appeared quite hail in her estimation. She suspected something else had occurred. As long as it didn't involve her, it was none of her business. She had her own worries to contemplate.

* * *

By the next morning, whatever had ailed Hilarie had passed, and mother and daughter were ready to conquer whatever might come their way. The pair spent the entire day preparing for the evening. Although Portia didn't understand why this particular engagement was so important. A dinner party was a common enough event during the Season.

"Are you coming?" Judith called to Hilarie, then stomped her foot on the marble tile. "We don't want to be late!" Then she turned and eyed Portia. "Not a word. You're fortunate even to be included."

Portia wanted to remind her half-sibling that they shared the same father, the father who'd been a baron, and—except for having no money of her own—she was not beneath her half-siblings in status.

"And remember, you are to accept Lord Webber the moment he offers for you," Judith added.

Not if I can help it. Portia's situation might be dire, but she would not marry the obnoxious old lord, with whom she had nothing in common.

Not for the first time, she could not help but wonder what information Judith had on the man. He'd never really shown any real interest in her, apart from ogling her breasts. Regardless, she still did not know how she was going to get out of this predicament, but there must be some other gentleman—a more agreeable one at that—that would offer for her.

Once married—and not to Lord Webber—with a home of her own, her half-siblings would become a distant memory. She hoped that, when she did have a home of her own, Albert and the twins—when they were old enough—would come to visit. They were the only family she truly cared about, and who cared about her.

Nearly ten minutes later, Hilarie descended the stairs in a flurry of disdain, with Katie following close behind. "Mother, Katie is useless. She doesn't know the latest hairstyles! How am I to garner Lord Ravensworth's attention when I look like this?"

Hilarie's own lady's maid had taken ill, and so the task of helping her ready for the evening had fallen to Katie. The poor girl looked on the verge of tears. Portia would make sure to comfort and reassure her later.

It made Portia sick to her stomach to think that Hilarie had set her cap at Titus. Regardless of the past, she knew Titus to be a good man. She also knew Hilarie to be the complete opposite.

Judith eyed her daughter's hair, then adjusted some strands. "It will have to do for tonight," she said on a long, disgruntled sigh.

Portia was surprised her half-sister did not rant any further, but they were running late. She felt sorry for Katie. The young maid always tried her best and was willing to learn. It was as difficult to work for Judith as it was to be related to her.

Portia offered a sympathetic smile to Katie, who gave one in return. Both women had been subjugated to Judith's tirades and tyranny numerous times this Season.

By the time they arrived at Lord and Lady Sutton's dinner party, Judith and Hilarie had calmed down enough to be pleasant. Or perhaps, a more likely scenario, Portia decided, was that they'd managed to mask their annoyance over Katie's lack of hairstyling skills for appearance's sake.

It wasn't a grand affair with hundreds of guests, but a gathering of several dozen, most of whom were interested in Lord Sutton's eccentric collections. How her relative had secured an invitation to an event such as this, and accepted, was hard to fathom.

While Portia still pondered those questions, the answer to the latter came a moment later when Judith nudged Hilarie's side and murmured with excitement, "My sources were correct. Look who's just arrived!"

Portia followed her half-sister's gaze. Nervous tingling soared through her body at the sight of…

Titus.

He looked far too handsome in dark navy, the color enhancing the green of his eyes. Remembrances of the kiss they'd shared crept through her thoughts. Had he thought about that kiss as much as she? Even if he did, he did not know it was her, so why bother wondering. There would be no other kiss from him. But still…

He scanned the room as if looking for someone when their eyes met for the briefest of seconds. No longer did his gaze hold anger, but something else. Something foreign and unspeakable passed between them, something she could not describe. Heat rose from within, settling on her cheeks.

"Please gather round," Lord Sutton announced, breaking the spell she'd been under. He waited a few moments before continuing with his speech. "Thank you all for joining us this evening, and a special thank you to my darling and very patient wife, who indulges my hobbies with grace and understanding." With those words, Lord Sutton glanced at his wife, the love between them shining as brightly as the stars in the night sky. A dull ache weighed down Portia's insides. Would she ever experience such a glance from an adoring husband?

Lady Sutton's warm smile filled the room. "You are most welcome." A silent moment passed as the pair shared something unspoken before she cleared her throat. "First we will dine, and then we'll view my husband's latest acquisition."

And with that, couples were arranged and began the promenade to the dining room. Portia, being the unmarried daughter of a baron, did not rank very highly amongst the guests and found herself near the bottom of importance, finding herself paired with a Mr. Smith, the son of a wealthy, yet untitled, shipbuilder in London.

She'd learned during the course of the meal that Mr. Smith and his wife—who was unable to attend this evening as she had caught a cold—were very well connected with other collectors of antiquities, and that was the reason he was invited. She was enthralled by Mr. Smith's stories of all the adventures he and his wife had had, especially their time spent in Egypt.

"And what was the highlight of your time in Cairo?" she asked.

"There were so many wonders for the eye to behold, but if I had to choose one, it would be the Great Pyramids." He took off his spectacles and removed a cloth from his pocket, then proceeded to clean them as he continued, "The sheer size is like nothing I've ever beheld. My mind kept trying to work out how exactly they were built." After blinking several times, he returned the spectacles to his face. "I must admit, the incredible feat has kept me awake many a night."

"I would so love to see them," Portia confessed. Experiencing the world had always been a dream of hers. The more she read, the more she longed to explore.

"I hope you do one day." Mr. Smith turned out to be a wonderful dinner companion. She could not remember the last time she'd enjoyed a conversation this much.

It was in Father's library with Titus.

She shook that thought away. Although they'd come to a better understanding of the past, there would be no more such conversations with him. Their lives were far too different, and they were on very divergent paths.

Once dinner had concluded, the women adjourned to the drawing room for some light entertainment and conversation, while the men stayed behind for cigars and brandy.

Portia looked about the room, wondering which grouping of ladies she'd fit in best with. Lady Whitby was in attendance, but Miss Beaumont was not with her, and Portia was not familiar with the other lady Lady Whitby was speaking with. There were the usual gossips in the far corner, led by Lady Baldwin, who were all enthralled by a salacious scandal involving two ladies and a footman. She wanted nothing to do with those rumormongers. Then there was a covey of young ladies who sounded more like birds chirping in excitement, although over what, she could not fathom. And then there was a circle of misses, presided over by Hilarie, whose only thoughts were how to ensnare eligible gentlemen in the marriage mart. She certainly did not want anything to do with anyone of her niece's association. Not to mention that she still had hopes to marry for love, not to ensnare or be snared.

Despite her hope, she still had no prospects this Season.

But there is… her heart sped up, tempting to remind her.

No. He is not a possibility.

But…

No. Friendship is all you could possibly hope for.

If Judith only knew that she was arguing with herself, she would give up her insistence that she marry Lord Webber and send her straight to Bedlam instead.

After perusing the ladies in attendance, Portia decided it was best for her to retreat into the background and simply observe. It was what she was best at, and besides, no one appeared to take any notice of her. Since arriving in Town, it had been thus. She wasn't elegant like the beautifully attired Miss Keate, who had attracted several admirers so far. And she certainly wasn't pretty like Miss Lillian. And her paltry dowry could not compare to those of the twin daughters of Lord Dunn. No, she really had nothing to offer a prospective husband but herself, and she highly doubted her intelligence was seen as an asset to most.

Time passed in slow measures before Lord Sutton entered and invited the ladies to join the unveiling. A few abandoned their places, but most—including her half-sister and niece—stayed put and continued on with their conversations.

Before too long, everyone interested was gathered in Lord Sutton's library. Just the room itself was a highlight of the evening with its impressive two-story windows, large floor to ceiling bookcases, and several enticing configurations of seating on which to pass the hours.

"Thank you for joining me this evening. I am most pleased to present two pieces of art. The first…" his words trailed as he slowly lifted the white Holland cloth, revealing a simple mahogany cabinet. "A map cabinet worthy of holding some of my most rare charts, and the second…" He stepped in front of the cabinet and pulled out the top drawer.

Portia could not see what was revealed, but by the ohs and ahs, it must be impressive.

"It's a print of Orbis Terrae Compendiosa Descriptio," one of the gentlemen said to the woman next to him.

"What does that mean?" the lady questioned.

A Compendious Description of Earth, Portia thought to herself.

A moment later, the gentleman confirmed her translation.

"I still don't understand," the lady replied, and then, with a huff, retreated from the room. But not before airing her grievances. "Why I agreed to give up an evening at the opera is beyond me."

Several of the group laughed at her admission before the conversation turned to Lord Sutton's other passion, goblets. Portia learned from Lady Sutton that, over the years, her husband had collected more than two hundred of them from all over the world, and was most excited to show off some of his latest acquisitions from Venice.

"I would be most honored to view your collection," Lord Roberts said. It was the only encouragement Lord Sutton needed.

Portia withheld the chuckle brimming on her lips as she watched the gentlemen practically skip out of the room. Other guests followed more slowly, leaving her alone and blissfully happy.

Without everyone crowding around the map cabinet, she was able to inspect the simple, yet very elegant piece. The craftsmanship was exquisite. All along the top rim were etched symbols from various cultures. She recognized a few from some of her father's books.

Tears stung the corner of her eyes as thoughts of her dearest papa flooded her memory. They would spend hours, looking at maps, charting courses to far-off places, and just enjoying each other's company. Some of her happiest memories were spent with him in his library.

"Thinking about your father's collection?" The familiar warm voice of an old friend touched her heart. She turned and came face to face with Titus.

She didn't want to argue. She didn't want to know why he'd held her so intimately when she'd cried last night. And she most certainly did not want to know why he didn't know it was her whom he'd kissed at the masquerade. All she truly wanted at that moment was his friendship that she so desperately missed.

"Yes." A sad giggle brushed past her lips as remembrances from long ago edged to the present.

"What are you thinking?" He seemed to always know when something was on her mind.

"About the time my father got so upset—well, upset at first—when I hid biscuits in one of his map drawers," she said as laughter bubbled to the surface.

Titus's own rich, robust laughter collided with hers. "I remember that. You told him that you often got hungry while spending time in the library and didn't want to disrupt your learning with a visit to the kitchen."

"Yes, and after that, he always made certain a tray of biscuits was readily available." She hoped that one day, when she had a home of her own, she would be able to continue that tradition, passing it on to her children.

"Your cook made the best biscuits," Titus said. "Those were wonderful times."

She'd never heard such nostalgia in his voice before, granted that it had been a long time ago since they'd talked like this. Too long. They used to talk for hours, sharing all sorts of ideas and dreams.

The sadness that she'd always managed to keep at bay crept into her heart. "I miss him so much."

"I understand. I miss him, too, and my father, and the friendship they shared," Titus said as he glanced at the open map drawer, clearly wrapped up in the memory.

His confession took her aback. "You… you miss my father?"

Titus looked at her directly, his green eyes full of such sincerity that it made her heart constrict. "He was an exceptional man, who raised an equally exceptional daughter." He took in a long, deep breath. "I should not have got so upset with you. I'm glad I now know the truth of what happened on that last visit to the Oaks residence."

"I would never do anything to bring you anger or harm." She meant every word. Titus was her dearest friend. In so many ways, her only true friend.

"I understand that now." Even though his tone was apologetic, it seemed as if he was holding something back.

"I'm glad you do." She, too, had so much she wanted to say, but their friendship was fragile. So much time had passed. She'd overstepped the boundary once, and didn't want to risk it again. "I… I should return to…" She was about to say her half-sister, but she truly did not want to rejoin that party. "I should just return."

Titus stepped in front of her, halting her progress. "I thought about your request and I will aid you. No one should be forced to marry someone they do not care about."

Surprise was too mild a word. For the first time since Judith had informed her of Lord Webber's intentions, Portia felt as if she had hope for an alternate match. She inhaled deeply and released a long sigh of relief. Perhaps she could have a happy future. "I… I don't know how to thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I haven't decided how to get you out of that arrangement Lady Oaks concocted."

"Judith has a knack for creating difficult situations," Portia confessed, then clamped her lips tight. The age-old fear crept back up her spine. Walls had ears and she could not risk Judith's wrath. She brought her fingertips to her lips, then said, "I should not have said that."

"Your secret is safe with me, my Portia."

My Portia.

A little sparkle from the past fluttered into the present. She'd always loved that endearment.

Adeline ensured that no one disrupted her nephew and Portia's conversation in the library. After all the guests had left to view the goblets, she returned, hoping to issue an invitation to Portia to join her and Flora to go shopping without Lady Oaks's interference. She truly did not care for the woman and suspected she'd not had the best of intentions with regard to Portia. She'd heard some rumors that Lady Oaks was trying to secure an engagement to Lord Webber, one of her husband's business partners. She now knew those rumors to be true.

She hadn't meant to eavesdrop on such an intimate conversation, but she was glad that she had. Titus was correct when he'd said no one should be forced to marry. But sometimes, a man needed a little nudge in the right direction to notice what had been in front of him all along.