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True to Aunt Bea’s prediction, Lord Nigel reached their group, his gaze still fixed on Portia. He extended a well-groomed hand toward her and asked in a deep, smooth voice, “May I have this dance, Lady Portia?”
Portia turned to her aunt and uncle for approval. With a nod from them, she placed her gloved hand in Lord Nigel’s and let him guide her onto the dance floor.
As they moved with the rhythm of the waltz, Portia studied her suitor. He held her with grace and an unspoken strength that promised security yet provided enough distance to ensure respect. His gaze was intense but not discomforting.
“Your beauty is the talk of the ball, Lady Portia,” he said, his voice as smooth as velvety chocolate. “Your aunt and uncle have told me much about you.”
Portia widened her eyes at his words. Was it mere flattery, or did he truly mean what he said? After all, she was hardly new to the marriage mart. She decided to play along. “And they have told me much about you too, my lord. You seem quite popular among the ladies.”
He chuckled at her words, his rich voice echoing pleasantly in her ears. “One might say that I enjoy attention,” he confessed, “but tonight, my focus is solely on you.”
Taken aback by his candidness, Portia felt caught in a labyrinth of curiosity and wariness. Lord Nigel’s charm was undeniable, but she wasn’t ready to let herself fall under its potent spell. She had seen many times the transient nature of charming men and how quickly their demeanor could fade to reveal a less pleasant reality. Yet Nigel’s charisma seemed to stem from a more genuine place.
His brown eyes twinkled with warmth, as if he were daring her, inviting her to discover the man behind the title, the person beneath the heir of the Earl of Cantley.
As the music decrescendoed into a soft murmur, Nigel spun Portia into a graceful turn. Her skirts fanned out to create a beautiful display that caused several onlookers to gasp in delight.
Lord Nigel drew her close. “Have you read much of Lord Byron, Lady Portia?”
Lady Portia had in fact pored through much of the poet’s work, but she coquettishly shook her head, batting her eyelashes. “I am afraid I have not, my lord.”
Lord Nigel grinned. “There is a verse of his that I believe beautifully encapsulates the kind of woman you are.” His eyes gleamed. “She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes.”
Warmth rushed to Portia’s cheeks at Lord Nigel’s quotation. “My Lord, you flatter me.”
“It is rare that a woman so enchants me that I feel compelled to quote the literary masters to her. But I wonder, Lady Portia…” He leaned in and whispered into her ear. “I’ve seen the best of brightness in you. Your beauty, charm, and poise know no bounds. But I cannot help but wonder…about your dark side.”
Portia held back a gasp. The heat in her cheeks was almost unbearable. She was hardly an innocent lamb—she had in fact taken many men to her bedchamber. But rarely was a man so forthcoming, especially when in view of his own peers.
Portia looked around and noticed the looks of envy she received from some of the other eligible young ladies. Perhaps Lord Nigel was in demand. Why shouldn’t he be, with his perfect dancing skills and his elegant good looks?
But when Portia met his gaze, his eyes darkened a bit.
He wasn’t thinking of dancing at all…
Episode Three
In Which Portia Explores Her Desires
Lord Nigel and Portia continued their dance.
His warm breath caressed her neck, sending shivers down her spine, as he whispered naughty and alluring words into her ear. “I’d love to taste your sweet nectar, Lady Portia,” he breathed as they moved closer together. He slid his hands down her back, caressing her curves through the expensive silk gown. “I’d love to feel your soft skin beneath my fingers.”
His touch ignited a fire within her that only intensified when his lips brushed against her earlobe.
With each passing moment, Portia became more aroused by the prospect of exploring these desires with this mysterious man. She allowed herself to fantasize about what it might be like to lie underneath him—his lips trailing down her throat, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of her collarbone. She imagined him nibbling on one of her perky nipples while his other hand glided over the smooth fabric covering her cunny—teasing but never quite touching it directly.
When the song ended, they stopped dancing, and she found herself wishing for more—wanting him to continue holding onto her, leading them in their own secret dance beyond the bounds of propriety. Instead, they bowed gracefully and parted ways.
Images of Nigel dominated Portia’s thoughts—his broad shoulders flexing under his jacket, his strong jawline, those tempting dark eyes that seemed to promise so much sinful pleasure if only she would accept it.
For weeks after their first meeting, Portia couldn’t stop thinking about Lord Nigel Jeffries. Until, that is, she met Donovan Fitzwilliam, the newly minted Earl of Newhaven, at another ball.
Donovan was a maddeningly good-looking man with golden hair and captivating sapphire eyes. He emanated an air of roguish charm that was balanced by the rare glimpses he showed of his thoughtful, intellectual side. With his quick wit and unparalleled storytelling ability, he easily became a favorite amongst the members of high society.
“Lady Portia.” He bent to press a chaste kiss to the back of her outstretched hand, his blue eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. The embrace brought forth a tingle that traveled up her arm, making her heart race.
“Lord Newhaven.” She kept her voice steady despite the riotous feelings within her. Lady Portia Longford-Baines, known for her unflappable exterior, was certainly not one to falter in public, but this man managed to make her feel things she had never felt before.
