Free Jo Beverley - [Malloren 02] by Tempting Fortune Page B

desire to hit him over the head with her mask, but suspected that might be his intent. She had the infuriating feeling that he knew exactly what she was thinking.
    He smiled. "But fresh country manners are often pleasing to the jaded palate of London, Miss St. Claire. I predict that you will do very well. It must come in the blood."
    Portia could not understand what he meant by that wry comment. He must be referring to Oliver, but Oliver was hardly a shining example of success.
    "Aye, my lord," said Oliver proudly. "Portia could be a great success if she moved in fashionable circles."
    Lord Bryght glanced around. "This environment is not fashionable enough for you, Sir Oliver?"
    "No, no, my lord," Oliver stammered. "You mistake me. It is just that Portia is used to the country, and reluctant to mingle with Society."
    "Poor Portia." Lord Bryght's tone of mock-commiseration had her hands tight on the stick of her fan. "Then we must encourage you. With your permission, Sir Oliver, your sister could stroll with me for a moment or two."
    Oliver looked stunned and rather alarmed, but he stammered out his permission. Portia wanted to object, but was not sure if it would be proper. What harm could there be, anyway, in walking among the crowd with this man?
    He extended his arm, and she curled her hand around it. Despite the coolness of the green silk, she sensed the warmth of flesh beneath, and the controlled strength of his body.
    A strength she knew only too well.
    That reminded her that he had manhandled her and that she disliked him intensely.
    As they moved away from her brother, she went straight on the offensive. "I cannot imagine what you are about, my lord, to be singling me out in this way."
    "Perhaps I just want to see you by daylight and at close quarters, Miss St. Claire."
    She raised her chin, and looked firmly ahead. "If you had any decent shame, my lord, you would not refer to our previous meeting."
    "But I don't have any decent shame." Softly, and deep-voiced, he said, "Sunlight becomes you, Hippolyta. It puts golden sparkles in your hair."
    Portia's heart trembled, but she refused to be thawed. "If you intend to shower me with flattery, my lord, you should know I pay no attention to false coin."
    "False? Do you have not one feature of which you are proud?"
    "You twist my words. Pride is a sin."
    "Honesty is a virtue, though. How would you describe yourself? In honesty."
    She did look at him then. "Small, thin, and past the age of being foolish."
    A strangely warm smile flickered. "Are we ever past the age of being foolish, dear lady? At least you must be cheap to feed."
    "On the contrary," she lied, temper rising. "I eat like a horse."
    "Have you thought of being treated for the worm?"
    "My lord. Really!"
    "And what of your hair? How would you describe that?"
    Portia was about to fall into a full-blown argument with him when she became aware of a number of eyes upon them—some direct, some peeping slyly, or even from behind masks. Pride demanded that she keep her temper. "My hair is the color of rust, I believe, my lord."
    "Rust," he said dryly. "And was it metal gray before you went out in the rain?"
    "No," she said between her teeth, "but it will doubtless turn to gray in the not too distant future."
    "You being so advanced in years?"
    "My being so hounded by rascals."
    He raised a brow. "Miss St. Claire, I find you absurd, and suspect you are begging for compliments."
    "I am not!" But Portia was aware that she was beginning to enjoy this. She glanced cautiously at him and caught a glint of teasing humor in his eyes.
    It was extremely hard not to respond to it.
    "Then I won't give you any compliments," he said, eyes still smiling. "I agree. You are short and scrawny and have rust-colored hair. I must warn you as well that some of the rust has flaked onto your nose." He reached out and touched her nose, then looked at his finger. "And does not easily come off."
    Portia would not smile, she would not. "I know I have