head and dropped it on the table by the door and her words went unspoken. “Before you take my coat, Hob, see to sending a maid to help Miss Temple out of her wet things, won’t you?”
“Yes, milord.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Eleanor gave a clear, silvery laugh, but Portia knew she’d forever tainted relations with her sister-in-law, and very likely Magnus, too. Eleanor smoothly transferred her attention from Hob to Crispin. “Do take his coat. Lord Northword will catch an ague if he leaves it on.”
Crispin lifted a hand. “Well, now, Hob, I can hardly remove my coat in front of ladies, can I? I’ll not be so indelicate.” On the table, a damp ring formed around the brim of the hat, slowly spreading outward. “I’ll need my valet directly, if you’ll see to that as well.”
“Aye, milord.”
Portia could not summon Crispin’s cheer nor Eleanor’s sweetness. Every glance, every word flayed her to the bone. Eleanor might as well have been there at the stable block, watching Portia fall into sin.
“You were gone so long Magnus was worried.” Eleanor picked up Crispin’s hat and handed it to Hob. He accepted it with a bow and headed for the stairs.
“We were caught in the rain,” Crispin said easily.
“Quite a downpour. We were worried.”
“Did you not hear or see how it came down, Mrs. Temple?” He turned part way to her so that half his back faced Portia. He spoke so gently. “Forgive me that, ma’am. I know how intensely you feel everything.”
She set her fingertips over her heart. “I do, my lord.”
“I know I would have worried had I been in your place and my sister-in-law had gone out in such weather.”
“Yes, my lord. Precisely.”
“There was nothing we could do but take refuge where we could.”
“Which was?”
He spread his hands. Water dripped from his sleeves onto the floor. “As you can well imagine, no place very dry. There was a tree. Not a very big one, I’m afraid. Not so far from the creek at the back of your property.”
“A tree.”
“Yes. A tree.”
It didn’t matter what Crispin said, or what excuses he made, or how convincing he was for any of it, Portia knew every word was a lie. Eleanor’s expression remained calm and pleasant, but dread curled in the pit of her stomach. That smile lay so heavy on them, around them, between them, that she could not react in any way.
“Thank you, Lord Northword, for going after her.”
“You’re quite welcome, Mrs. Temple.”
“My dear Lord Northword. You ought to change into some dry clothes.” Portia felt horrible. Eleanor was a woman incapable of malice and accustomed to thinking the best of everyone, and here they were, deceiving her. “You’ll take a chill if you don’t.”
Crispin set a hand on the back of Portia’s shoulder, no longer the man who’d kissed her senseless. Not the man who’d made love to her in a way that obliterated the life she’d built without him. He’d retreated behind a pleasant facade, and she was unbearably aroused by him. “You as well, Portia.”
She nodded, but Eleanor detained her with a hand to Portia’s arm. Crispin bowed to them and headed for the stairs.
“You’ve no idea how worried Magnus was for you,” Eleanor said.
“We were caught in the rain.”
“I do not understand why you would go outside at all when you did not feel well. And to make Lord Northword chase after you.” Eleanor’s smile faded. “I cannot imagine what people will say when they hear the tale. It’s bound to follow you, my dear.”
“I was foolish. I’m very sorry for the inconvenience and your worry.”
“I do hope you’ve learned your lesson about acting impetuously.”
“I have, thank you.”
Eleanor pushed her toward the stairs. “Go on, now. We can’t have you catching your death either.”
Bridget, the maid she shared with Eleanor, was waiting for her when she entered her bedroom. The young woman clucked at her bedraggled state.
Portia stood where
“Yes, milord.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Eleanor gave a clear, silvery laugh, but Portia knew she’d forever tainted relations with her sister-in-law, and very likely Magnus, too. Eleanor smoothly transferred her attention from Hob to Crispin. “Do take his coat. Lord Northword will catch an ague if he leaves it on.”
Crispin lifted a hand. “Well, now, Hob, I can hardly remove my coat in front of ladies, can I? I’ll not be so indelicate.” On the table, a damp ring formed around the brim of the hat, slowly spreading outward. “I’ll need my valet directly, if you’ll see to that as well.”
“Aye, milord.”
Portia could not summon Crispin’s cheer nor Eleanor’s sweetness. Every glance, every word flayed her to the bone. Eleanor might as well have been there at the stable block, watching Portia fall into sin.
“You were gone so long Magnus was worried.” Eleanor picked up Crispin’s hat and handed it to Hob. He accepted it with a bow and headed for the stairs.
“We were caught in the rain,” Crispin said easily.
“Quite a downpour. We were worried.”
“Did you not hear or see how it came down, Mrs. Temple?” He turned part way to her so that half his back faced Portia. He spoke so gently. “Forgive me that, ma’am. I know how intensely you feel everything.”
She set her fingertips over her heart. “I do, my lord.”
“I know I would have worried had I been in your place and my sister-in-law had gone out in such weather.”
“Yes, my lord. Precisely.”
“There was nothing we could do but take refuge where we could.”
“Which was?”
He spread his hands. Water dripped from his sleeves onto the floor. “As you can well imagine, no place very dry. There was a tree. Not a very big one, I’m afraid. Not so far from the creek at the back of your property.”
“A tree.”
“Yes. A tree.”
It didn’t matter what Crispin said, or what excuses he made, or how convincing he was for any of it, Portia knew every word was a lie. Eleanor’s expression remained calm and pleasant, but dread curled in the pit of her stomach. That smile lay so heavy on them, around them, between them, that she could not react in any way.
“Thank you, Lord Northword, for going after her.”
“You’re quite welcome, Mrs. Temple.”
“My dear Lord Northword. You ought to change into some dry clothes.” Portia felt horrible. Eleanor was a woman incapable of malice and accustomed to thinking the best of everyone, and here they were, deceiving her. “You’ll take a chill if you don’t.”
Crispin set a hand on the back of Portia’s shoulder, no longer the man who’d kissed her senseless. Not the man who’d made love to her in a way that obliterated the life she’d built without him. He’d retreated behind a pleasant facade, and she was unbearably aroused by him. “You as well, Portia.”
She nodded, but Eleanor detained her with a hand to Portia’s arm. Crispin bowed to them and headed for the stairs.
“You’ve no idea how worried Magnus was for you,” Eleanor said.
“We were caught in the rain.”
“I do not understand why you would go outside at all when you did not feel well. And to make Lord Northword chase after you.” Eleanor’s smile faded. “I cannot imagine what people will say when they hear the tale. It’s bound to follow you, my dear.”
“I was foolish. I’m very sorry for the inconvenience and your worry.”
“I do hope you’ve learned your lesson about acting impetuously.”
“I have, thank you.”
Eleanor pushed her toward the stairs. “Go on, now. We can’t have you catching your death either.”
Bridget, the maid she shared with Eleanor, was waiting for her when she entered her bedroom. The young woman clucked at her bedraggled state.
Portia stood where
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