The Duke Before Christmas - Bianca Blythe Page 0,36
in beautiful curls. “I hope the room suits you.”
“It is wonderful,” Portia said.
And it was.
If Colin had truly been her husband, if they’d truly eloped to Guernsey because the prospect of waiting for a proper wedding was intolerable, given their urgent desire to bed one another, well, then the bedroom would have been perfect and romantic. The general narrowness of the bed would have been no cause for concern, since they would never have desired to stop touching one another.
Portia blinked rapidly, then pasted a bright smile onto her face.
Charlotte tilted her head. Portia had heard rumors her hostess was very intelligent.
Those rumors had also said Charlotte had been a wallflower, and all of London had declared themselves shocked when Charlotte had married Vernon. It seemed odd to imagine she’d ever been relegated to the smoke-filled section where the wallflowers were so often abandoned, left to chitchat amongst themselves, and with which only the most awkward, penniless men ever ventured to find a dance partner.
“My sister and her family are here,” Charlotte said smoothly, evidently deciding against questioning Portia. “Let me introduce you to them.”
Portia ignored the rapid rise of her heart. “How nice.”
More people meant more opportunities for her to be discovered as a fraud. Portia would have been happy to take her dinner in her room and to never venture out. Instead, she followed Charlotte to a woman with beautiful auburn hair who stood beside a broad-shouldered man. Portia’s heart pounded.
“Georgiana,” Charlotte said. “I would like to introduce our newest guest, the Duchess of Brightling.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Portia hoped just because the back of her neck was warm, and just because her cheeks had similarly risen in temperature, that her face did not resemble that of a tomato.
Charlotte and her sister might find it curious if her face changed colors every time Charlotte referred to Portia as a duchess. That was the sort of tell a card player might find intriguing.
“I’m so happy to meet you.” Georgiana gave a bright smile that made Portia wish she weren’t lying to everyone and that these were truly her new friends.
“I’m so sorry to disturb your Christmas,” Portia said.
“She and her husband eloped to Guernsey,” Charlotte announced. “And then couldn’t find a ship back to London.”
Georgiana’s long dark lashes fluttered. “How romantic.”
“Isn’t it?” Charlotte breathed, and her eyelashes also seemed to move with similar contentment.
Portia’s chest tightened. Charlotte and her sister were upper members of the ton. Portia had prepared herself for snide comments, stating that Portia should have been prepared for poor weather, that Portia had missed the opportunity to have a lovely wedding, that Portia had acted in an irresponsible manner now affecting a duke and duchess’s Christmas holiday—but instead, they simply seemed pleased to see her.
“You have a wonderful husband,” Charlotte said. “I’m so glad he’s married. You’ve made the catch of the season.”
“Yes, you must tell us how you managed to wrangle him to the altar. I rather expected him to wait until he was in his forties or fifties,” Georgiana said. “So many rakes do take ever so long to marry. How did you ever convince him?”
Portia’s face pinkened as she remembered her angry proposal to him on the ship’s deck before a crew of sailors and the duke’s own valet. He must have truly felt sorry for her to ever have said yes.
Colin squeezed behind her. “It was simply true love.”
Portia trembled at his sudden presence but managed to turn to look into his face.
“Wasn’t it, dearest?” Colin asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said, but she had the horrible impression her voice was shaking.
“It’s dreadfully romantic,” Georgiana said. “Come, I’ll introduce the children to you.”
“They’ll be joining us for dinner,” Charlotte explained to Portia and Colin. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Portia said. “They seem adorable.”
“Well, they know Father Christmas can still change his mind about presents.”
“Charlotte,” Georgiana said with a horrified voice.
“Well, he won’t really do that, will he?”
Georgiana took Portia’s elbow. “Come, I’ll show you around.”
Portia was relieved to be away from Colin. She couldn’t be with him when he was smiling at her with such fondness, when she knew everything he said was untrue.
The children were adorable, and Portia soon made their acquaintance.
Neither Charlotte nor Georgiana were advocates of keeping children away, to be ushered out only when some music was required, only to scold them for not playing music with the perfection demanded to not experience ear pain.
A footman handed Portia some negus, and she sipped the Christmas drink eagerly.