Free Seducing the Heiress by Olivia Drake Page B

only sounds
were the sleepy twittering of a bird in one of the trees and the bark of a dog
in the distance.
     
She slipped into a tiny garden that smelled of roses and
refuse. Going down the graveled path, she winced several times as the flimsy
dancing slippers provided scant protection from the stones. A small porch led to
the back door. There, she cupped her eyes and peered through a window to see a
long dark passageway lined with black lumps of furniture.
     
Very carefully, she
tried the door handle. Locked.
     
Pursing her lips, she moved down the narrow
width of the house, checking all the back windows. To her frustration, they were
secured as well.
     
Blast, perhaps she ought to have had Lindsey try to pick the
lock, after all—if indeed she really had acquired such a skill. But Portia
disliked involving her sister in this act of burglary any more than she had
already done.
     
That left one unpleasant course of action. She would have to
break the glass.
     
The noise might bring a servant running if any were awake at
this late hour. Reasoning that it was better to take a chance on brazening her
way inside than to be caught red-handed, Portia rapped hard on the back
door.
     
Her palms felt cold and damp inside her kidskin gloves. Any servants
were probably fast asleep in the attic bedchambers. Nevertheless, she forced
herself to wait a few minutes to see if anyone responded to her knock.Conscious of the time ticking away, she shifted from one
foot to the other while rubbing her arms beneath the cloak in an effort to stay
warm.
     
How long would Ratcliffe wait at the rendezvous before he grew
impatient with her absence? At that point, would he suspect something and come
straight back here? Or would he go and seek out the comforting arms of his
mistress?
     
Portia clenched her teeth at the memory of him strolling in Hyde
Park with that red-haired strumpet. What a wicked charlatan he was, to declare
his fascination for Portia while he continued to consort with women of ill
repute!
     
And what about him banishing his mother to his estate? No decent
gentleman would treat a parent so callously. In so many ways, the man was beyond
the pale.
     
Buoyed by righteous anger, Portia stepped down to the garden in
search of a rock to break the window. She found a better missile at the base of
the porch. It was a small iron boot scraper the length of her hand.
Straightening up, she was startled by the glow of an approaching light inside
the house.
     
The handle rattled and the door swung open. The breath froze in
her throat. Holding up a lantern in one meaty paw, an ogre stood glowering at
her.
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 6
     
The
flickering flame shone upon a face so ugly that only innate good manners stopped
Portia from gasping. He had a bulbous, misshapen nose beneath sunken eyes and
shaggy black brows. A number of hideous scars criss-crossed his skin, including
the left side of his head where only half an ear remained. The coarse dark
clothing that covered his massively muscled form marked him as a
servant.
     
“Who the devil are ye?” he demanded. “An’ why are ye stealin’ the
master’s goods?”
     
Portia realized she still held the boot scraper. It was
imperative that he not view her as a thief.
     
She forced a pleasant smile.
“Were I a burglar, I wouldn’t have knocked,” she said in a reasonable tone. “I
only picked this up because . . . because I didn’t know who would answer the
door and I thought I might need a weapon to defend myself.”
     
“Humph. Mayhap ye
meant to clobber the wee maid-servant what answered yer knock. Don’t suppose ye
reckoned on me.”
     
“I assure you, sir, you’re mistaken.” Her heart thumping,
Portia slowly set down the boot scraper while keeping a close watch on him.
Bless Lindsey for giving her the pistol. Its slight but comforting weight rested
againsther hip. Mounting the steps to the porch, she
reminded