Page 102 of The Music of Love

“We’ll think of something.”

Portia’s foot came down on a piece of broken stone and she stumbled, flailing in the darkness. She grazed her knuckles on the rough wall but stopped herself from falling.

“What was that?” Mrs. Charring’s voice was suddenly very loud.

“Probably just some vermin,” Stacy assured her.

If only you knew.

Portia remained where she was, unwilling to risk either discovery or injury by going any farther. Besides, she could hear more than enough from her current position.

A delicate sniff floated through the darkness. “I thought I’d squashed my love and come to terms with my life but now I see I was just lying to myself.”

“You poor darling. Come here.” It was the same comforting voice he often used on Portia and the long pause could only mean they were embracing. And maybe kissing.

She swallowed so hard she was amazed they couldn’t hear it.

They’re distracted; the only thing they are hearing is each other.

Portia closed her eyes, as if that would somehow stop the voice in her head.

“There’s nothing that can be done now, I’m afraid. You must know a divorce is out of the question?”

Divorce? He wanted a divorce? Portia could barely hear the soft sound of crying above the roaring in her ears.

“Oh, Stacy, I thought I’d gotten beyond it all, but coming here has made my heart break all over again—” the sound of soft sobbing filled the air and it was a long moment before the woman could gain control of herself and continue. “I know I told you I was no longer in love, but I was lying, Stacy.”

“Shh, sweetheart. God, how I wish you’d told me all this a long time ago. If you want to leave today I will take you back to Plymouth. But I want to tell Portia the truth before I go and—”

“No! Please don’t, Stacy, I should hate for her to know everything. It’s not as though we could ever do anything about it. I don’t want anyone to know about this.”

Portia tasted the salt of her own tears and roughly scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. She stumbled backward, blinded by pain as she listened to her husband comfort a woman who’d obviously decided too late that she loved him.

As she ran from the clearing she wondered if a person could actually hear the sound of their heart breaking.

Portia did not stop running until she was out of the trees. She slumped breathlessly against a boulder beside the path and squeezed her pounding temples, as if she could squeeze out the horrible thoughts.

Stacy had only married her because she was with child and now this woman—a woman he clearly cared a great deal for—had decided she wanted him. Portia winced at the memory of the anguish in his voice as he’d soothed his lover’s pain.

Agony, fear, and jealousy twisted inside her and her gorge rose. She covered her mouth—she could not be sick now; it would only draw unwanted attention. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands until the pain distracted her. When she unclenched her hands there were bloody half-moons. She was still staring at her palms when she heard her name and looked up.

Robert was coming toward her from the direction of the trysting couple. Good God! Had he—

“You went for a stroll, Portia?” His gaze flickered toward the direction she’d just come from and Portia knew, in that instant, that he’d heard the lovers. The smile he gave her was taut and fixed, and lines of strain bracketed his eyes. The expression in them was one of pity.

“Yes, just a short one,” Portia said, struggling against a powerful urge to run and run and run. “The viscountess was looking for you,” she said absently.

“Yes, she found me.” He glanced over her shoulder and his face tightened. “Ah, here are Stacy and Mrs. Charring.” The false jollity in his voice was worse than a knife in her chest.

Portia dug deeply for the strength to face him. She told herself this was not the worst she’d endured. If she could survive the miscarriage Ivo had caused with his fists, she could survive this, and so would her baby.

Stacy smiled, looking almost as if he was glad to see her.

Mrs. Charring looked from Portia to Robert, her beautiful face showing no sign she’d been crying a short time ago.

“Did you find the chapel?” Robert asked.

“Yes, we did. It’s quite a fascinating little structure.”