Simply Perfect

The Duke of Anburey requested the presence of the Marquess of Attingsborough in the library, the butler informed Joseph as soon as he set foot inside Alvesley again. He did not go there immediately. He went up to his room, where he found Anne and Sydnam Butler sitting with Lizzie. She had not woken up since he left for Lindsey Hall, they informed him. “My father wants to talk with me,” he said. Sydnam threw him a sympathetic look. “Go,” his wife said, smiling at Joseph. “We relieved Susanna and Peter only half an hour or so ago. We will stay awhile longer.” “Thank you,” he said, standing beside the bed and touching the backs of his fingers to Lizzie’s cheek. She had a corner of the pillow clutched in one hand, and held it against her nose. He was so glad that all the secrecy had gone from their relationship. He leaned over to kiss her. She mumbled something unintelligible and was still again. There was a terrible row in the library after he went down there. His father stormed at him. He had apparently talked reason into Portia and persuaded her that his son would behave properly and she would never have to see or hear about the child ever again. She was prepared to continue with the engagement. Joseph, however, was not prepared to be dictated to. He informed his father that he was unwilling to hide Lizzie away any longer. He hoped to move her to Willowgreen, to spend much of his ti me there with her. And since Portia had released him during the afternoon, she must now accept this new fact if the betrothal was to resume. He held firm even when his father threatened to turn him out of Willowgreen—it was still officially his. Then he would live with his daughter somewhere else, Joseph told him. He was not, after all, financially dependent upon his father. He would set up another home in the country. They argued for a long time—or rather, Joseph remained quietly obstinate and his father blustered. His mother, who was present throughout, endured it all in silence. And then his father and mother left the library together and sent Portia to him. She came, looking composed and beautiful in a gown of pale ice blue. He stood before the empty fireplace, his hands clasped at his back while she crossed the room toward him, took a seat, and arranged her skirts about her. She looked up at him, her lovely face empty of any discernible emotion. “I am truly sorry about all this, Portia,” he said. “And I am entirely to blame. I have known since the death of Lizzie’s mother that my daughter must be even more central to my life than she had been before. I have known that I must make a home for her and give her my time and my attention and my love. And yet somehow it did not quite occur to me until today that I could not do it properly while living the sort of double life that society demanded of me. If it had occurred to me in time, I would have been able to discuss the matter openly with my father and yours before exposing you to the sort of distress you have endured today.” “I came to this room, Lord Attingsborough,” she said, “on the understanding that that dreadful blind child would never be mentioned to me again. I agreed to resume my engagement to you and prevent your utter disgrace in the eyes of the ton on the condition that all would be as it was before you spoke so ill advisedly at the picnic this afternoon. And that would not have happened if that incompetent schoolteacher had not set her sights on a duke for a husband and neglected her charges.” He drew a slow breath. “I see it will not do,” he said. “While I understand your reasoning, Portia, I cannot agree to your terms. I must have my child with me. I must be a father to her. Duty dictates it, and inclination makes it imperative. I love her. If you cannot accept that fact, then I am afraid any marriage between us would be un-workable.” She got to her feet. “You are prepared to break our engagement?” she said. “To renege on all your promises and a duly drawn up marriage contract? Oh, I think not, Lord Attingsborough. I will not release you. Papa will not release you. The Duke of Anburey will disown you.” Ah, she had had time for reflection since late this afternoon, then, as he had rather expected. She was not a young woman as far as the marriage mart went. Although she was well born and wealthy and beautiful, it would be an uncomfortable thing for her to be single again, with two broken engagements behind her. She might never have another chance to make such an advantageous match. And he knew she had set her heart upon being a duchess at some time in the future. But to be willing to hold him to a marriage that would clearly bring both of them active misery was incredible to him. He closed his eyes briefly. “I think what we need to do, Portia,” he said, “is speak to your father. It is a shame he and your mother did not stay longer. It must be dreadful for you to be without them today. Shall we call a truce? Shall we put a polite face upon things tomorrow for the anniversary celebrations and then leave the day after tomorrow? I will take you home, and we will discuss the whole thing with your father.” “He will not release you,” she told him. “Do not expect it. He will make you marry me, and he will make you give up that dreadful creature.” “The centrality of Lizzie to my life is no longer negotiable,” he said quietly. “But let us leave it for now, shall we? Soon you will have your mother for moral support and your father to argue and negotiate for you. In the meanwhile, may I escort you to the drawing room?” He offered his arm, and she set her hand on his sleeve and allowed him to lead her from the library. And so officially he was engaged once more. And perhaps—who knew?—he would never be free again. He very much feared that Balderston might agree to his terms and that Portia might marry him and then not honor them. All of which he would deal with when the time came because he would have no choice. But for now he was not free and might never be. Ah, Claudia! He had not dared think of her since setting foot inside this house again. Ah, my love.