He broke off his words, startled by something moving inside the heap of
blankets across from her. A boy sat up, rubbing his eyes and
yawning.
Disbelieving, he stared. “Bane?”
Spying Colin, the lad uttered a
squawk and dove back into his nest. Colin reached inside and snatched off the
covering. “What the devil are you doing here?”
“Er . . .”
“He was afraid
to remain with Tudge,” Portia said. “Tudge is a pirate, you see. Though I cannot
imagine why he would feel any safer with
you
.”
Bloody hell. At the
moment, Colin could have cheerfully made Bane walk the plank himself. His
presence threatened to put a huge wrinkle in the fabric of Colin’s carefully
laid plans.
“I’ll have a word with you later.” Giving the boy one last frown,
he returned his attention to Portia and struggled for a semblance of his
much-vaunted charm. “Welcome to Willow Bend. I’m sure you’ll want some
refreshment after your journey.”
He offered his hand to her, and she accepted
his assistance in stepping out of the coach. At least he wouldn’t have to carry
her inside, kicking and screaming, past all the servants. But her pursed lips
warned him that she wouldn’t fall willingly into his embrace. She must be
furious at him for abducting her. By God, he had to make
her realize that he’d acted for her own good, that she
would have been miserable married to Albright.
The stooped old butler was
descending the broad steps, walking slowly due to his arthritic knees. More
ancient than the gatekeeper, he wore the same formal black garb that Colin
remembered from childhood. A smile wreathed his wrinkled face. “Your lordship!
This is indeed a most delightful surprise.”
“Good morning, Thurgood. Pray ask
Mrs. Hodge to prepare the Queen’s Bedchamber for Miss Crompton. She’ll want a
breakfast tray, as well.”
“As will Bane,” Portia added, placing a protective
hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Bane looked decidedly rumpled. The tails of his
shirt hung loose from his coat and his brown hair was tousled, with tufts
sticking out every which way. His head tilted back, he stared agog at the
sprawling mansion.
“He’ll eat in the kitchen,” Colin said. “Thurgood, if
you’ll be kind enough to show him the way.”
Thurgood made a creaky bow,
revealing a shiny bald pate that was rimmed with wisps of white hair. “Very
good, my lord.”
When Bane made no move to follow, the butler took hold of the
boy’s hand and led him up the steps. Bane didn’t seem to mind the servant’s
sluggish progress. He was too busy ogling the house with its surrounding gardens
and stands of willow trees. It occurred to Colin that Bane had never been out of
the city before. Having a taste of country life might do him good—so long as he
didn’t interfere with Colin’s purpose here.
He noticed Portia frowning at
Thurgood. In a low tone, she said, “He’s rather old to still be on staff.
Oughtn’t you give the man a stipend so he can retire?”
“I’ve tried. He’s
refused.” Intent on resuming control
of the situation,
Colin took hold of her arm. “I’ll escort you to your chamber now. You’ll want to
freshen up.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Her brief response put him on edge. As they
headed for the house, he wished feverishly for the ability to see into her mind.
Where was her fighting spirit, her fury at being abducted? Had a miracle
happened and she’d finally decided to believe his accusations about Albright? Or
was her calm demeanor merely a ruse to entice Colin into lowering his guard so
that she could escape?
The last scenario had to be it.
He had no intention
of letting her go. Not while there was a chance that Albright and her parents
might conspire to cover up her mysterious disappearance. They could put out the
story that she’d fallen ill at the costume ball. They could reaffirm her
betrothal to the duke. People might whisper among themselves, but no one would
dare shun Albright or his bride-to-be. And Portia would find herself bound
forever to a man whose sole purpose was to use her for revenge.
Grimly, Colin
ushered her through the echoing entryway and up the curving staircase. The only
sound was the scuffing of their shoes on the marble steps. Her continued silence
grated on his nerves, but he was determined not to start a quarrel. Better to
let her recover from the journey first so they could talk later with clear
heads.
Upstairs, he showed Portia into the bedchamber directly across from
his. The blue and white décor was a legacy of his grandparents, before the
family had lost its money. Now he wished he’d warned the staff to prepare the
room. To keep off the dust, white cloth draped most of the furniture. The place
looked sadly neglected, old and outdated.
Striding
to the windows, he drew open the tall draperies to let in the sunshine. Then he
took out his ring of keys. Portia had been studying the landscape painting above
the fireplace, but the jingling sound made her whirl to face him.
She frowned
first at the keys, then at him. “It isn’t necessary to lock me up again. I’ve no
intention of running away.”
“Perhaps not. But I can’t take the
risk.”
“There
is
no risk.” Walking to him, she placed her hand on his
arm. “Ratcliffe, listen to me. I’ve had ample time to reflect during the ride
here. I can see now that you must have told me the truth about Hannah. Why else
would you despise the duke the way you do?”
Why else, indeed? He could give
Portia a host of other reasons. But those were things he didn’t want her to
know.
Besides, he could scarcely think while she was standing so close. He
wanted to drag her to the four-poster bed and make passionate love to her until
the beast in his loins had been sated.
The trouble was, that would only
bolster her view of him as a worthless rake. “I very much doubt you’ve changed
your mind about me based on one incident.”
“You’re right, it was more than
that.” Stepping back, she crossed her arms and regarded him intently. “It was
Bane who made me realize the truth.”
“Bane?”
“Yes, you took a poor street
urchin into your home when others would have left him to starve on the street.
You did the same for Hannah, giving her a position in your household. And for
Orson Tudge, too, it would seem. I have to wonder, why have you hidden this
philanthropic side of yourself?”
“I needed servants. It was easier than
dealing with an agency.”
She huffed in disbelief.
“Then what about Thurgood? As his employer, you could force him into retirement.
But you haven’t. You’ve allowed an old man to have a purpose in his life. And I
greatly admire you for that.”
Her praise made him exceedingly uncomfortable.
Enough so that he threw away all logic and caution.
He walked away from her,
then turned back. “Save your admiration. The truth is, I abducted you in order
to achieve your ruin. Now you have no choice but to wed me.”
Portia merely
raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what makes you think my father will give you my
dowry in such a case? He may well cut me off without a penny.”
Colin brushed
off the possibility. Although having the funds certainly would make his life
easier, he was willing to take the risk of losing it in order to have Portia in
his bed. “Your parents will be so anxious to cover up the scandal they’ll
pretend to be happy with the marriage.”
“Perhaps. But how, pray tell, do you
intend to force me to speak my vows to you?”
“Coercion won’t be necessary.
You’ll do it or your reputation will be damaged beyond repair.”
“And it will
all be fixed by marrying a known philanderer?” Smiling, she shook her head. “I’m
afraid your plan is for naught, my lord. I won’t be bullied into marriage to you
or to any other man, especially one who will squander my dowry at the gaming
tables. In fact, you’ve done me a great service.”
He fought the urge to haul
her up into his arms and show her the prime benefit of marriage to him. “What
the devil does that mean?”
Strolling to a covered chair, she twitched off the
dust cloth, then sat down as if settling in for a long visit. “I’ve never cared
much for society. It was my parents who wanted me to marry Albright. By ruining
me, you’ve
allowed me to escape that gilded cage. Now
I’m free to go anywhere, even back to India if I choose.”
Her words hit Colin
like a sharp jab to his abdomen. He’d thought that upon Arun’s death, she would
have put that foolish idea out of her mind. “Don’t be absurd. There are cholera
epidemics—and vicious tigers. And even if you survive all that, how would you
support yourself? As you said, your parents will cut you off without a
penny.”
“I’ll work as a governess. English families often advertise for help
in the newspaper there.”
“You can’t be serious. You’ve no notion what it’s
like to be poor, unable to pay your bills.” But Colin knew. He knew far too
well.
“Then I’ll learn. I’ve saved more than enough of my pin money to pay
for the voyage.” Infuriatingly serene, she gazed up at him. “So you see, my
lord, I shan’t run away from here. Rather, I owe you my thanks.”
CHAPTER 20
Two
hours later, Portia stepped out of her bedchamber and paused in the dimly lit
corridor. A troop of maids had delivered fresh clothing, hot water for a bath,
and a tray of breakfast. It had been a relief to discard that preposterous toga
and to soak away the travel dust. The pale green gown she wore fit remarkably
well, and she could only surmise that Ratcliffe had sent the garments ahead from
London.
He had planned the abduction well—except for his arrogant assumption
that she would fall like a goose into his matrimonial trap. Apparently, he
hadn’t counted on her discovering that he possessed a sense of integrity
underneath all that masculine bluster.
She needed such weapons at her
disposal because it was only a matter of time before he attempted to seduce her.
A rush of heat permeated her body, sparking a reminder of the rapture she had
found in his arms. Now that he had ruined her in the eyes of society, would she
allow him to do so in truth? Would she have the strength to resist him—did she
even
want
to resist him?
Pushing the questions away, Portia glanced up
and down the deserted passageway. One of the closed doors must lead to
Ratcliffe’s chambers. After staying awake driving the coach throughout the
night, surely he must
be asleep. That should give her
a fair bit of time in which to satisfy her curiosity. She burned to discover
more about his past, to speak to those who had known him since childhood, and to
clear up the mysteries about the man behind the charming façade.
She picked a
direction at random and headed down the corridor, peeking into open doors here
and there. The house had a certain appeal to its shabby elegance, from the pale
yellow painted walls with their shell-shaped sconces to the graceful columns
placed at intervals along the passageway. Unfortunately, while gazing up at the
arched ceiling, she nearly tripped when a hole in the carpet runner caught the
heel of her shoe.
The place had been allowed to fall into sad disrepair.
Quite likely because Ratcliffe had gambled away the profits from the estate. Why
would a man be so foolish with his money? Especially one who clearly cared for
his people and felt a duty to provide for them?
The passageway ended at the
landing of a staircase. There, a mullioned window looked out on a lush garden.
Unlatching the casement, she pushed open the glass and rested her forearms on
the stone sill. Birdsong drifted from a nearby stand of willow trees. Beyond the
garden, thick hedgerows formed natural fences for the patchwork of fields. A
refreshing breeze carried the scent of the outdoors.
As a sense of
contentment crept over her, Portia sighed. How odd to realize that she’d
remained in the city ever since her family had moved to England the previous
year. Until now, not once had she ventured outside of London. Although vastly
different from India, the countryside here made her miss the wide-open rural
settings where she had gone on drives with her father.
Papa.
The
thought of him brought a troubling reminder of her present situation. At first,
he and Mama must have
been furious when she had failed
to appear at the midnight supper. They would have placated the duke while
discreetly dispatching a servant in search of her. How swiftly their anger must
have changed to alarm when she was nowhere to be found. Did they believe she had
run away of her own accord? Or did they guess the truth?
Dear heaven, she
wanted desperately to reassure them. She couldn’t bear the thought of her
parents and sisters frantic with worry. But what could she do? Thus far,
Ratcliffe’s servants seemed to be extremely loyal to him, and he surely would
have given them instructions not to post any letters for her. It was a matter
she intended to take up with him at the very first opportunity.
In the
meantime, she distracted herself by focusing on her surroundings. She wondered
if Ratcliffe had ever stood at this window, if he’d ever felt a swell of pride
at the sight of his land. It seemed incredible that anyone would choose to stay
in the crowded city when he owned such a piece of paradise as this.
The
approach of shuffling footsteps caught her attention. She turned to see Thurgood
coming down the passageway. The butler’s face had an amazing number of wrinkles,
bringing to mind a withered apple.