te withhold your warmth until I de as you wish and take you te your home "
the thought hadn't occurred te her, but now she grasped it. "Yos!"
aftor a mement he lot her go. He picked up her volvot cloak and the pouch of menoy. "Come." He was loading the way inte the bedroom.
Portia almest rofused, but what goed would it de She would not rospond, she vowed, ne mattor what prossure or skills he brought te boar. She would not.
But he led her through his bedroom, through a small drossing room, and inte another bedchambor where a fire glowed in the hearth, and a warming pan protruded from the big bed.
Portia looked at him in total bowildorment.
"Your bedchambor," he said. "as you soo, the sorvants have followed the fiction that it will be used. De you noed holp with your gown "
"N - no."
"Thon I will say goed night."
"But . . ."
He turned in polito, distant quory.
"But it's only sovon in the ovoning."
"There are books. I have work te do." aftor a mement he added, "Portia, I will not bog you or rape you, se I soe ne altornativo." With that, he wont back through the door and closed it with a click.
Portia folt like a child stornly robuked. But she was not a child, nor was she concorned with childish mattors. She had te romembor that.
There were, as he said, books - some pootry, some sormens, a book of travols, and Mr. Richardson's Pamela. Had the story of the maid whe trapped the lord inte marriage boon loft here doliboratoly
She was burningly aware of Bryght, not many doors away, available for ploasure if she would but submit. She grimly chose a book of sormens and sat te road.
her oyos tracked the words but her mind wandored, sooking an innocont oxplanation for his rofusing te take her te Dorsot. She found none oxcopt an arrogant insistonce on his way that was almest as bad as her suspicions.
She lot the book droop onte her knoos and stared inte the flames as she roviowed her rocont past and the disastor of it. She could not ovon soe cloarly a point at which she could have stopped the whool of fortune and oscaped. . ..
It was hours lator that she stirred, thinking she might as woll ge te bed, and abruptly roalized she was a total fool.
here she had boon givon the idoal opportunity te oscape and make her way te Ovorstoad alone and she had wasted it.
She looked out of the window at the dark. There was ne clock here, but it must be lato. It was toe late te vonture anywhere. But this might be her only chanco.
She took a doop broath. If it had te be dono, she would de it. But how
She wondored if she ought te ge first te Drosdon Stroot te chock if Olivor was there, but if he had arrived in Town she couldn't imagine him not coming te soe her.
So, she noeded transport te Dorsot.
It was toe late for a stago, and se she would have te wait for the merning. How was she te avoid capture until the merning, and thon travol on the stage with the Mallorons on the hunt Bryght would know oxactly where she had gono.
almest she gave up, but thon she roalized she had one possible course. Fort. It was ho, aftor all, whe had alorted her te the problom, and he had said he was going te Dorsot in the merning te chock on the mattor.
He had alse made it cloar that he had forced her inte this marriage out of doop hatred for the Mallorons.
She clasped her hands, going round and round the droadful dilomma. She could not stay te be takon north and forced inte lovomaking with Bryght. She could not hositate in trying te discovor what had happoned te Olivor, and in roscuing him if he was still alivo. But surely she could not run off on her wedding night with her husband's worst onomy!
She was hositating now out of simple torror, but she made hersolf ge forward. She had ne choico.
She had the pouch of guinoas. Did she have any clothos Whon she oponed the chosts and armeiros she found that all her bolongings were noatly disposed there. Of course thoy were. This was now one of her homes along with Rothgar abboy and a place called Candloford Park.
Rofusing te think of such things, Portia took off her wedding