Page 10 of Her Rogue to Ruin
“But you could imagine more than a week with Dr. Carmichael?”
“Oh yes.” She grinned a bit mischievously and shrugged. “But can I be a wife at this point? Can I give up my autonomy for how much comfort it would bring?”
Portia knew from the waycomfortfell from her aunt’s lips with an almost longing sigh that the answer was yes.
“I don’t think there’s one way to be a wife.” Portia had thought exactly that before her own marriage.
She’d been prepared to be an excellent wife. From girlhood, she’d been taught the skills and rules she’d need to succeed as a viscountess. But her marriage hadn’t been anything like what she’d been trained to expect, and now, among her friends, she’d seen very different sorts of unions. Matrimonial bonds that were based on attraction, mutual respect, and equal partnerships.
“Perhaps you’re right, my dear.” Aunt Claire assessed her and tipped her head to the side. “But this started with me encouragingyou. You’re but seven and twenty, Portia. A talented, beautiful young woman. And yet all you do is work.”
“I must support myself. Us.”
“I know and I’d never wish to sound ungrateful. I merely want you to have another chance. If you want it.”
Whenever thatifflitted through Portia’s thoughts, she set it aside. One day, she told herself. She’d consider marriage again one day. And she wouldn’t make the terrible mistakes she’d made the first time—trusting the wrong man’s charm and empty promises, pushing down the parts of herself she valued most in order to fit her husband’s dictates.
Her aunt scooped up the pile of post she’d walked in with and then laid aside to help Portia with her gown.
“This one’s from Lord Wilmot. It’s kind of him to keep in touch with you.”
“Is it? His persistence has always felt more like possessiveness.” Portia resisted taking the letters her aunt held out. “He was Winston’s closest friend, and I think he believed I would allow myself to be passed down to him.”
“Has he been inappropriate?”
“He…proposed last year, and it was dreadful.” Portia shivered at the memory of the older, over-eager lord looming over her. “He cornered me at a dinner party, and I felt trapped. My breathing sped until I felt dizzy.” When his arms had come around her, she’d broken free and bolted, causing more of a scene than she ever had in her life. “He took advantage of my distress to embrace me. It was a boundary I never would have invited him to cross.”
And he still continued to write. Benign letters but often with an invitation to dine or visit that she would never accept.
“I’m very sorry, my dear. I thought he was solicitous, but it seems he’s awful.” Her aunt stepped closer and clasped Portia’s hand. “I’ll happily throw his letters in the fire in future if you wish.”
Portia chuckled and squeezed her aunt’s hand. “I quite like the sound of that.”
“Surely there are other gentlemen in this world like Dr. Carmichael. Men who truly are as kind as they seem.”
Were there? Only one man lingered in Portia’s mind of late, and today she’d glimpsed a moment that told her he was far more complex than the jovial, fun-loving rogue everyone else thought him to be.
Who was the true Viscount Pemberton? Heavens, why did she care?
CHAPTER3
Phin had decidedto do it.
He would wait until Lady Hastings was finished with her daily sitting with Louisa, and then he’d ask her.
Though every time he thought of her lavender gaze on him, the very notion of requesting that she paint a bare-arsed portrait for another woman made him wince.
He told himself it was foolish to worry about Portia Hasting’s judgement. The lady was a widow, and a gorgeous one. Surely, she’d had lovers. Hell, Selkirk had been on the verge of pursuing her just yesterday.
Phin clenched his hands into fists as he approached his study.
The notion of Portia with Selkirk still set his nerves on edge. In fact, he’d wrestled with it throughout a sleepless night. Not only the prospect of his best friend’s pursuit of the lovely widow, but the question of why he himself didn’t end his quest for Mrs. Grove’s favor and do his damnedest to explore his attraction to Portia.
Because she doesn’t like you.
And there it was. An obstacle to be sure. The beauty was faultlessly polite to him, but even when he saw something more flash in her eyes, or noted the flare of color in her cheeks, she acknowledged none of it. She’d been trained as well as he, it seemed, to mask her true feelings.
But mercy how he wanted to experience her unravelling. Would she like him more if he tried to speak to her honestly? If he allowed her to see how she affected him?
