toward the bed, snapped the trunk shut, and hauled it to the wardrobe. She turned to Portia and beamed. “I can assure you the trunk is quite suitable for traveling. No need to worry at all.”
“How lovely,” Portia said faintly.
Jonesie assessed the now open wardrobe. “But perhaps some of these clothes do need to be replaced.”
Having a discussion on her attire would no doubt consume time, and time was what she lacked.
She couldn’t stay here.
She needed to leave. Soon.
What would Mr. Andrews think if she wasn’t on the ship when he arrived? What if he thought Daisy had been jesting?
“Actually, I’d prefer to do it another day,” Portia said.
“Is that so?” There was an odd scrutinizing look in Jonesie’s gaze. Normally, Jonesie didn’t draw her eyebrows together in such fashion. Normally, her brow didn’t wrinkle. Normally—
“You’re running away.” Jonesie beamed, and her blue eyes sparkled with a force Portia was more accustomed to seeing on sapphires. “I knew it.”
“What? That’s nonsense,” Portia lied valiantly.
“Oh?” Jonesie sat down and stretched her legs. She yawned. “In that case, perhaps I’ll stay here.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Jonesie smiled sweetly. “There’s nothing I’d rather do, even on my half-day, than work here. I doubt anyone would mind.”
Portia glanced toward the door. Could people hear their conversation?
“Well, the truth is—” Portia sighed.
“You’re running away.” Jonesie’s voice remained curiously firm. “You’ve been acting odd all week.”
“I often act odd,” Portia protested.
Jonesie seemed to hide a smile.
Heavens.
This was no time to find amusement in anything. Portia placed her arms on her waist and pretended she was much larger and intimidating and important than she truly was.
“Perhaps you often act odd,” Jonesie acquiesced, “what with insisting on going out so often, and heavens knows, no one has ever seen you with any embroidery, but you don’t learn every day that you will not inherit the money promised to you if you don’t marry by the end of the year.”
Portia jerked her head to Jonesie. “You knew that?”
Jonesie sighed. “The servants have been discussing nothing else this week.”
Portia remained silent.
“You know, if you marry Sir Vincent, you might be able to have some of those dinner parties here. You’d be his wife. You’d have influence.” Jonesie’s voice was gentle.
“Perhaps.”
“It’s not a terrible prospect,” Jonesie said.
Portia sighed. “You must think I’m spoiled to not want it.”
Jonesie shook her head. “You’re lucky to even think you have more options. That’s a blessing.”
Porta smiled guiltily. “Are you here to tell me not to leave?”
“No.” Jonesie stood and narrowed the distance between them. “Take me with you.”
“What?”
“I imagine you found another husband?” Jonesie asked. “Because I’m really not up for a life of too much uncertainty.”
“I found another husband.” The tension from Portia’s back eased. She’d done that.
Jonesie gave a relieved sigh. “Oh, good. So I can continue to be paid?”
Portia grinned. “Indeed. I’ll have my fortune, after all.”
“Splendid.” Jonesie smiled, then she narrowed her gaze. “I heard the Duchess of Belmonte sneaked onto a ship bound for the Caribbean before she met the duke. I have no desire to go to the Caribbean.”
“You won’t,” Portia said. “But we will be taking a ship, and the ship leaves soon. So if you want to come—”
“—I’ll help you pack,” Jonesie said with a smile.
The next minutes were a delicious flurry of clothes being flung into the trunk, followed by a brief wait while Jonesie grabbed her small collection of belongings. They absconded from the townhouse and Sir Vincent.
Fortunately, they found a hack quickly and scrambled up the metal steps. Portia told the driver where to go, then the horses moved into a trot.
Soon they would be at the Docks, soon Portia would be married, and soon Portia could forget this temporary unpleasantness had ever happened. Hope surged through her, and she beamed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“THIS IS MY FAULT,” Niles said mournfully, and his shoulders descended to an uncharacteristic slump as he leaned against the coach’s cushioned interior.
“Nonsense,” Colin said.
Niles’s newfound gloomy expression did not dissipate. “You’re being kind.”
“Well, it’s only partially your fault,” Colin amended.
“I abhor even partial faults.”
“I know.” Colin smiled. “It’s why I hired you. I have exceptional judgment.”
“Judgment that does not extend to cravat tie preferences,” Niles said.
“Just because you can tie a mathematical knot does not mean it has to be my preferred cravat choice,” Colin said.
It was not the first time Colin had expressed this particular argument, and Niles’s nostrils flared, but he did not deign to discuss any of his frequently used points on the benefits of going about in the world with