Pleasuring the Lady (The Pleasure Wars) (18 page)

“I don’t think anyone ever believed I would need that advice,” Portia said, her tone witheringly dry. “I was an old maid until—”

Her mother stared at her, focused, of course, in this moment where Portia would have preferred a little lack of understanding.

“Until what?”

She cleared her throat. “We were caught in a compromising position, Mama. Very compromising. He never would have thought twice about marrying me unless we had been,” she admitted with a blush.
 

Her tone sounded so harsh, she hadn’t fully realized just how bitter that truth made her.

Her mother frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that, my dear. I wanted more for you than a marriage not of your choosing. It is what I got and as you know, your father and I were desperately unhappy together.”

Portia nodded. She had seen her parents, two utterly different people, grow to resent each other. And the more troubled her mother had become, the more her father’s resentment turned to utter hatred. He had poisoned her brother with that sentiment. He had poisoned everything around them.

“I don’t want my life to take that turn,” she whispered, thinking of Miles and his expression when he’d realized the woman behind the mask was
her
.
 

He had been horrified. And though they had connected since then, she knew that horror was still there. That at any moment, he could go back to feeling disgusted by her and her treachery. Then his kiss, his touch, his desire and even his kindness could be snatched away forever.

She blinked away those troubling thoughts.

“Miles seems a better sort than your father,” her mother reassured her gently. “But, Portia, you must do your part to develop a relationship with him. To make your marriage as real as he will allow, even if it wasn’t one of his asking.”

Portia blushed as she thought of the bargain she had made with Miles on her mother’s behalf. Of the way he had claimed her the night before and promised her wicked pleasures to come.

Their marriage certainly felt real at the moment.

But desire would fade. He would bore of her and her mother was correct. If she didn’t want Miles’ resentment, she would have to find a way to have a relationship with him outside of his bed.

To her surprise, that task seemed almost as daunting as the bargain she had made with her body. With Miles, it seemed, she was forever on shifting sands. And she wasn’t certain she would ever be entirely confident about where she stood.

Chapter Fourteen

He never should have come here.

Miles stood and paced around the parlor. This was a terrible mistake and he knew it. But could he escape the trap he had set for himself?

He moved for the door, but just as he reached it, it opened and his sister stepped inside. She jumped as she saw how close he was.

“Gracious, Miles, no need to stand in wait.” She laughed as she motioned him back to his seat and poured him a cup of tea. “Granger must have told you I was coming presently.”

“He did.” Miles sighed as he took the cup and set it aside. “I only thought of another appointment I had forgotten.”

His sister’s smile faded ever so slightly and she folded her hands.
 

“Out with it. What is it?” she asked.

He cleared his throat in discomfort. “What is what?”

“I know you better than anyone in this world,” Tennille said softly. “And I know when you are troubled. Which is, I suppose, why you have shown up on my doorstep, unannounced, one day after your wedding, when you should be at home with your new bride. So tell me, what is it? Are things not going well between you and Portia already?”

Miles shoved to his feet and walked to the window. “Of course they are going well,” he reassured her and thought of Portia’s sweet surrender in his bed the night before. “Portia is…unexpected.”

“Good,” his sister laughed. “You need a woman who will confuse you.”

“Thank you so very much,” he said, tone dry though he smiled. “I prefer to say she challenges me.”

“Fine, argue the semantics.
But
?” his sister encouraged.

He thought for a moment, thought of everything he had come to know about Portia. Everything she had been through, everything she had suffered. And how she had handled those terrible things.

“I have come to the decision that I need to spoil my wife,” he said.

His sister speared him with an appraising glance, then swallowed her sip of tea with a nod. “Good. She deserves it, poor girl.”

Miles pursed his lips. He didn’t particularly like the fact that Tennille
pitied
Portia. Although, to be fair, he had bestowed his own pity upon her more than once over the years. But that was before he knew her. Now he recognized that she was not pitiable at all, but rather
admirable
. She had a deep well of inner strength one would never guess when watching her hug a wall with the other spinsters.
 

That inner strength intrigued him beyond measure, for he had always gauged that he possessed it himself, as did his sister.
 

“The problem is that I do not exactly know how to go about that sort of thing when it comes to a wife,” he admitted. “And you are the only wife I know who I trust to talk to about such a delicate subject. So how in the world do I go about indulging her?”

Tennille shook her head. “You act as though you are deciphering an impossible puzzle.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It feels as though I am.”

She sighed. “For God’s sake, Miles, she is a person, not a quandary. Get to know her. Discover her little hopes and forgotten dreams. If you can manage it, return those things to her. Anticipate her desires before she even knows she has them. Of course, this will require intense focus on her.”

Miles swallowed hard as, once again, he was bombarded with images of Portia arching beneath him. Portia crying out his name as he pleasured her. If he could anticipate those physical desires, was it so much of a stretch to try to guess any others she might have?

“We are newly married—I think intense focus on her is what is required, is it not?” he asked, trying to keep his wicked thoughts from being too obvious.

Tennille frowned. “Of course, I must warn you that there could be a side effect to this experiment of yours.”

“A side effect?”

“Yes. Portia just might fall in love with you.” His sister folded her arms as she awaited his response to that statement.

His stomach turned at the thought and he shook his head. “That would be a great mistake on her part.”

His sister moved closer. “I beg to differ, Miles,” she whispered. “I think it would be a wonderful thing…for both of you. You deserve someone to love you. Your fear of that is—”

He turned away. “Hush,” he interrupted. “Enough of this.”

But she ignored his sharp order. “No, I will not hush. We
never
speak of the past.”

He flinched. Pain he kept at bay with great effort began to seep into his body, into his soul.
 

“For good reason,” he choked out.

“The abuse we suffered as children was unfair,” his sister continued despite his admonishments. “You tried to protect me, which is proof of the goodness inside of you. It is proof that you are capable of great things, of great love.”

He shook his head. “I do not want to be capable of that.”

Tennille let out a little sob that forced him to look at her. Her eyes were filled with tears and she had her arms folded. She looked so very, very sad. So pitying of him. It cut him to his heart.

“I know firsthand how healing love can be,” she whispered when she had regained some measure of composure. “Like you, I fought it at every turn, but it came anyway, and it was so worth the sacrifices and the vulnerability I had to have to earn it.”

Miles stared at her. He had been involved in all his sister’s Seasons, of course. He had provided her with all she needed for great success and he had been pleased at her choice of Richard. The viscount was a decent man.
 

More importantly, Miles had seen their affection, their love for one another. But never once had he considered that their relationship might have been difficult for Tennille to accept.

That she would be as haunted by the past, by the demons of their childhood, as he was.

“I’m glad for you,” he said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. “I love that you are happy, that you are loved and that you are capable of giving love in return. You deserve that and so much more.”

She smiled. “And so do you. So if love comes calling, I hope you will not turn it away out of hand. At least consider giving your marriage, your wife, your
heart
a chance at something deeper than a mere façade of a union.”

Miles swallowed his retort. There was nothing he could say that would change his sister’s view on his life or his relationship. But she was wrong. He was capable of a great deal, but fully opening himself to love?
 

That was impossible.
 

He had seen what love could do, how it could destroy. His best option was to stay far clear of it. And to make sure Portia didn’t do anything so foolish as convince herself that she loved him.

It was the best gift he could bestow. For both of them.

Portia was in her chamber, going through her dolefully small collection of things that had been brought from the house her brother let.

“Honestly,” she muttered as she lifted a worn chemise to the light and shook her head. “We lived as paupers.”

She tensed and set the item aside when she heard the carriage pull into the drive. She moved to the window and looked down as Miles stepped from the vehicle and spoke for a moment to the servant who greeted him.

Even from far above, his confidence was clear. The way he stood, the way he tilted his head as he listened, the way he clapped the other man on the back before he moved toward the house, they all spoke of his utter surety in himself.
 

But then, men like Miles were golden in their Society. Men with money and property, with history to their names and a tiny hint of scandal on their backs were practically worshipped. Certainly she would be hated by all the women who had once pursued him the next time she entered a ballroom on his arm.

She was not looking forward to that moment, nor to the Season to come when their scandal would be whispered about amongst all who had not been in Town over the winter.

“Preserve us,” she muttered as she returned her attention to her things.
 

She had two piles at present. Things to dispose of and things to keep. The disposal pile was far higher and consisted mostly of a few overly patched gowns and worn slippers. She was almost embarrassed to give them over to Bridget, who was still serving as her lady’s maid until the time when she could interview the others Armstrong had apparently arranged for her to meet.

Another item on the growing list of things the new Lady Weatherfield would be expected to do.
 

“Being a lady is quite tedious, it seems,” she said to herself.

“Then don’t be one,” said a voice from her door.

She blushed as she turned to find Miles there. She glanced at the window.
 

“Did you come straight up to me?” she asked.

His brow wrinkled. “You knew I was home?”

“I saw you on the drive,” she admitted and wondered what he thought of her spying. Why could she not
think
before she spoke to this man?

He blinked, but offered no other reaction to that admission.
 

“I did come straight up to you, my lady,” he said with a shrug, as he came into her room and closed the door behind himself. “I did not expect you to be here lamenting your position in life.”

“I wasn’t,” she hastened to say. “I am greatly appreciative of all you have—”

“Oh, please,” he groaned, tossing her careful pile of clothing to discard on the floor and flopping down on his stomach on the bed. “Spare me more grateful speeches. I didn’t
give
you anything, Portia. We found ourselves in a situation we are now both making the best of. You owe me no more than I owe you.”

“That isn’t true and you know it,” Portia said with a shake of her head. “You could have turned your back on me, refused to make me your bride, and I would have been destroyed in Society.”

He arched a brow. “You think my own consequences wouldn’t have been as dire? To compromise a lady and then not do the right thing?”

“Don’t be thick, it doesn’t suit you,” Portia sighed. “I was nothing more than a spinster no one else wanted and you are golden as a god. If you had refused me, yes, this Season would have been uncomfortable for you, and I’m certain there would be a few families who would no longer consider you for their daughters. But you are highly liked, Miles. And your title and your money wouldn’t have changed just because you set aside an utterly undesirable girl. After a year, everyone would have conveniently forgotten what you did and you would have been as sought out as ever.”