Seducing the Heiress by Olivia Drake

watery English sunlight trickling past the tall
blue draperies.
     
You’re giving up everything, your life, your country, your
family. Once you act on this foolishness, there’ll be no turning
back.
     
Using her fork, Portia stabbed a strawberry on her plate. Ratcliffe
had had no right to express any opinionson her
actions. She knew her own mind, and if she wished to wed a chimney sweep and
live in a hovel, it was no concern of his. He was a scoundrel who only wanted
her dowry—
     
“Darling, did you hear me?”
     
Portia started, realizing her
mother was staring at her. “I’m sorry, I must have been woolgathering.”
     
“I
was just saying that seventeen gentlemen asked after you yesterday evening.
Seventeen!” A satisfied smile on her face, Mrs. Crompton addressed her husband.
“Mr. Crompton, didn’t I tell you Portia would be an unqualified
success?”
     
Stout and balding, George Crompton looked every inch the prosperous
businessman in his dark coat and white cravat. A pair of reading glasses was
perched on the end of his nose. He groped for his coffee cup without looking up
from his newspaper. “I’m sure you’re right, my dear.”
     
“Of course I’m right.
And Portia, you’ve had nearly twenty bouquets delivered already this morning.
Everyone was terribly concerned when I told them you were indisposed.”
     
“Thank
you, Mama. My cold is ever so much better today.”
     
Portia had made a
miraculous recovery because she needed to attend Lord Turnbuckle’s ball tonight.
At Lindsey’s suggestion, she had already sent Kasi to Ratcliffe’s town house
with a note inviting him to a rendezvous in Turnbuckle’s garden. Ratcliffe would
take the bait, she was sure of it. The knave would believe he had achieved his
purpose, to make her cowed by his treachery and ready to do his
bidding.
     
Little did he know how sorely he’d underestimated her.
     
“Are you
quite certain you’re well?” Her mother peered closely at Portia. “You’re looking
a bit flushed.”
     
“It’s the flush of good health,”
Lindsey said, giving Portia a meaningful glance. “She’s adjusting very nicely to
the climate of England. After all, this is where she belongs.”
     
Portia ignored
the jab. “I assure you, Mama, I feel perfectly fine.”
     
“I’m pleased to hear
it,” Mrs. Crompton said, taking another slice of toast from the platter offered
by a white-wigged footman. “I shouldn’t like for you to cancel your drive with
Albright this afternoon.”
     
“My drive? Oh . . . I’d nearly forgotten.”
Dismayed, Portia recalled that several days ago—a lifetime ago—she had agreed to
a carriage ride with the Duke of Albright. So much for her hope to spend the
afternoon finalizing every aspect of the plan with her sister.
     
Mrs. Crompton
slathered butter on her toast. “How could you possibly forget? The duke is more
attentive than any of your other suitors. And certainly the richest and most
important as well.”
     
Portia blinked. “The duke isn’t my suitor. He’s merely a
friend, a protector.”
     
“Is that what you think?” Mrs. Crompton laughed
indulgently. “Why, a man of his stature would never bother himself with a young
lady unless he had an eye on matrimony. Isn’t that so, Mr. Crompton?”
     
George
Crompton tore his gaze from the newspaper long enough to give Portia a fond
smile. “Quite. I understand the fellow is nearly as wealthy as the Regent. It
would please me greatly to see you betrothed to the duke, rather than one of
those other greedy pups.”
     
Portia couldn’t speak. Her gaze flew from him to
her mother, who was beaming proudly. Was it true? Had she misread the duke’s
kindness toward her? Dear God, she must have.
     
She wanted to protest that the
duke was more thantwice her age, that she viewed him
as a paternal figure, not a potential husband. But her parents looked so
delighted that the words lodged in