grinned down at Portia, a wolfish glint to his smile that would have sent a more intelligent woman sprinting toward the nearest chaperone.
“I know this is terribly forward, but I’m afraid I am not acquainted with either of you, and I should very much like to be.” Portia’s musical voice carried across the room. She sounded so sweetly innocent, but Lydia knew better.
“You hear that, Brodie? She would like to be better acquainted with us,” Rafe said. The silent, dark-haired man next to Rafe grinned as well, and when he spoke, his Scottish accent was unmistakable. It was as though God had designed this man to make Lydia fall hopelessly in love with him.
The man named Brodie smiled at Portia in clear amusement. “Does she now? I believe we would as well, lass. What’s your name?”
“I am Portia Hunt.”
“Portia.” Brodie rolled her name off his tongue, and Lydia could see her sister almost swoon. Lydia couldn’t blame her—she was equally as affected. “My name is Brodie Kincade, and my companion here is Mr. Rafe Lennox.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Mr. Lennox and Mr. Kincade.”
“How well acquainted do you wish to be, Miss Hunt?” Rafe inquired with a smile that spoke of dangerous intimacy.
Whatever Portia had planned to say was stopped when Great-Aunt Cornelia materialized next to her, snatching her away from the two gentlemen. She dragged Portia nearly a dozen feet away, creating a minor spectacle, which soon grew into a major one the moment she spoke.
“Portia Elizabeth Hunt, what on earth are you thinking?” Cornelia demanded sharply. “Eh, girl?”
Cornelia was a formidable creature, and despite her plumpness, she was a strong woman and not to be trifled with.
“I was thinking I was meeting my future bridegroom,” Portia shot back as she pulled her hand free of Cornelia’s grasp.
“You were doing no such thing!”
Rafe and Brodie watched with amusement while Portia argued with her great-aunt. Finally, Lydia found herself able to move, and she joined her sister and aunt in order to calm things down.
“Did you see your sister walk up to those young bucks and introduce herself? Mercy, I shall faint.” Despite Cornelia’s insistence that she would faint, she looked entirely unlikely to. “And where were you in all this, Lydia?”
“I . . . I’m sorry, Aunt Cornelia.”
“Humph.” Cornelia pointed an accusing finger at Portia. “I believe you’ve had quite enough for one night, young lady. It’s time you went home for the evening.”
“You never let me do anything. Father will hear about this!” Portia stormed off toward the entrance of the assembly rooms.
Cornelia shared a look with Lydia. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I’m afraid you must come home as well.”
“Wait, Mrs. Wilcox,” Lysandra said. “Would it be possible for Lydia to stay with me? I am here escorted by my brother Lawrence Russell and his wife, Zehra. They would be happy to chaperone Lydia and escort her home.” Lysandra nodded toward her elder brother, another redheaded member of the infamous Russell family, who was currently dancing with his lovely new wife. “If you truly wish to punish Portia for her behavior, just imagine how she would feel knowing her sister is still here enjoying herself.”
“I suppose . . .” Cornelia fluttered her fan as she thought it over. “Yes, all right, but I shall have to speak to them myself.” She walked over to where Lawrence and Zehra had just finished the last dance.
Lydia sighed in relief. “Thank you, Lysandra, I should not wish to be in that coach tonight listening to Portia and Aunt Cornelia bicker.”
“I agree.” Lysandra put her arm in Lydia’s, and they both trailed after Cornelia to see what the woman’s decision would be. Lydia glanced over her shoulder at the two handsome men, who hadn’t left their post against the pillar. They were not looking in her direction, nor did she expect them to. After all, she was, in comparison to Portia, utterly unremarkable.
The thought left a deep well of sadness within her, but she buried it with a cheery smile and laughter. Lydia was determined to have an enjoyable evening, now that she no longer had to watch over Portia and keep her out of trouble.
Portia Hunt drifted back into the assembly room, a light cloak draped about her shoulders. She spied her dreaded great-aunt Cornelia talking to Lawrence Russell and his beautiful new wife, who rivaled her in looks. Seeing that her great-aunt was sufficiently distracted, she caught the eye of the handsome Scotsman when his gaze swept