in the family way yesterday.” She felt dreadful having to lie to her father, but she had to have Brodie as a husband.
A fierce light glowed in Jackson’s eyes. “Did he force himself on you? I shall kill him.”
“No! He didn’t force himself on me. You know how passionate I am, Papa. Just as you and Mama were.” Whenever she wanted to change her father’s mind on something, it always helped to remind him of her mother.
“I do. You are so like me in that way.” He cupped her face. “My darling child, soon to be a bride and mother.” Worry creased his brow. “I will find a way to bring him here this evening, but I’m not sure how to convince him to marry you. I wish I could duel with him instead.”
“No, Papa. I love him so much. You mustn’t say such things.”
“I suppose.” Jackson stroked his chin. “If I could get him here, there are ways of convincing him. If I was able to bring a man of the church here too . . .”
“Yes, that’s what we shall do,” Portia agreed. “Bring him here tonight, and we will convince him that marriage is the best course of action.”
Portia was certain that if she was able to get Brodie in bed she could change his mind about marriage. She was not ignorant of the ways of men and women. Her sister, Lydia, was far more innocent. Portia knew that in order to be effective with men, one ought to be acquainted with one’s own body and how best to use it as a weapon. It was perhaps more mercenary than romantic, but she had watched her sister have three unsuccessful seasons living on romantic notions alone, and she would not follow her down that path.
It was a pity, for Lydia was very sweet and endearing—when she wasn’t lecturing Portia about her behavior.
“I’m afraid I must go, my dear.” Her father patted her shoulder affectionately. “Stay here and wait for me to return. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Good girl.” He brushed her cheek with a fatherly kiss and was off again, leaving Portia alone.
She had only a little time to make plans, because she knew without a doubt that Lydia would put a stop to her scheme once she learned of it.
I must find a way to distract Lydia. Keep her away.
Portia rushed to her room to pen a letter. By tonight, Brodie Kincade would be here, and she would soon be married to the handsome Scot.
Lydia returned home late that afternoon after an enjoyable time at the Pump Room, where people sampled the healing waters in Bath. She found Portia most anxious at the door the moment she entered.
“Thank heavens, you’ve returned! You’ve received an urgent letter.” Portia pressed the already opened letter into her hand.
“What? Who from?”
“Lysandra,” Portia replied. “The messenger who delivered it said it was a matter of deep importance.”
Puzzled, Lydia opened the letter and skimmed its contents. It was a short missive. Lysandra said she was returning to London immediately and needed Lydia to meet her there to discuss a personal matter.
“I’ve had a trunk and valise packed for you. I hope you aren’t angry with me for reading the letter ahead of time.” Portia turned apologetic eyes to her sister.
“No, no, it’s quite all right.” Lydia noticed the two travel cases that were sitting by the stairs. A large trunk and a smaller valise. It was unusually thoughtful of her sister. Lydia had spent two hours at the Pump Room with Lysandra that very afternoon, and she’d made no mention of leaving. What had changed in the last few hours? Whatever it was, it must be serious.
“I shall ring for the coach.” Portia rushed off, and Lydia thought she glimpsed a hint of a smile a moment before Portia turned her back and left.
Lydia was not devious like her little sister, but she was not without her own cleverness. She left the house again, walking on foot a short way before she hailed a hackney to take her to Lysandra’s residence. Half an hour later she was ringing their doorbell, which was soon answered by the butler.
“Is Miss Russell at home?”
“She is. Shall I inform her that you are here?”
“Yes, please. I would very much like to speak with her.”
“Of course.”
Lydia toyed with the handles of her reticule while she wondered what Portia might be up to.
Lysandra came down the stairs, wearing a lovely walking dress of hunter green. She wore a light