Tall, Dark and Disreputable. Deb Marlowe

It triggered a whirlwind of old emotion: exasperation, irritation and fleeting camaraderie. Visions danced in her head, of infuriating pranks, of whispered risqué stories she’d tried desperately to overhear, and of the pair of them united, usually to get one of her brothers either into or out of trouble.

      It was a sound from her past. But today it ignited a great, yearning well of hope for the future. The old Mateo Cardea would have helped her in an instant. Perhaps he was still in there somewhere.

      And perhaps he would enjoy getting to know the new Portia Tofton.

      Her heart pounding, she moved forwards, beckoning Dorrie closer. ‘It’s just a little lake water, Dorrie,’ she cajoled. ‘And you’re not late, but just in time to meet Mr Cardea. Come, and I will introduce you.’

      Mateo watched Portia hurry away. A great wave of guilt and confusion had swamped him at her earlier words. He allowed it to fade a bit, allowed it, even, to be replaced with a wholly ungentlemanly sense of satisfaction. He’d rattled her. Good.

      He had a sneaking suspicion that it would be in his interest to keep Portia unsettled. And a little rattling was no more than she deserved. After all, she’d rocked his moorings loose last night. And she’d done it again today, too, without even so much as trying. Ah, but the picture she had presented just now had been priceless! Pink-cheeked, covered in rock dust and knee-deep in water—Dio, but she’d been the most beautiful sight. He’d seen the contentment on her face and the glint of mischief shining brighter than the gold flecks in her eyes, and he’d forgotten his purpose.

      What was he to do now? He closed his eyes. Exactly what he’d intended, he supposed. Her artless confusion and hesitant manner convinced him of her innocence, but changed nothing, really.

      Mateo had arrived in England with a purpose. He’d meant to rebuff Portia Tofton, thwart any attempt at manipulation and get his company back. Failing that, he meant to say a last goodbye to his old life—and move on to the new. Old expectations were of no more use than a leaky skiff. A clever man knew when to abandon them and move on.

      ‘Mateo, may I introduce my cousin and companion?’ She approached again with the new arrival in tow. ‘Miss Dorinda Tofton.’

      ‘Piacere, Miss Tofton.’ Mateo bowed respectfully over her hand. ‘It is indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My old friend is fortunate indeed to be surrounded by such beauty.’

      ‘Oh, yes,’ Miss Tofton agreed with a sweep of her hand towards the lake. ‘Is it not the most charming prospect?’

      ‘Nearly as charming as her companion.’ He delivered the compliment smoothly, but with just the right touch of sincerity. A flush of pleasure pinked her pale cheeks, but she did not grow uneasy.

      ‘And almost as pleasant as a reunion with an old acquaintance.’ Miss Tofton knew how to play the game. She glanced over at Portia and her brow creased once more. ‘Please do not allow the manner of our greeting to dishearten you, sir. Though it may not look it, we have been awaiting your arrival with the utmost anticipation.’

      ‘Yes, yes, Dorrie.’ Portia grew impatient with the fussing. ‘I do thank you for coming today, Mateo. We must talk of your company, of course, and I have something of the utmost importance to discuss with you.’

      She called out suddenly to the men preparing to leave in the pony cart. ‘Billings, Newman! Just a moment, please!’

      She turned back to Mateo. ‘Dorinda is right, though; I really must change before we speak. Perhaps you would care for a stroll about the gardens?’Mateo caught the significant glance she shot towards her companion and wondered what it foretold. ‘I would love you to see some of Stenbrooke before we discuss our…troubles.’

      She smiled sweetly before he could protest. ‘We’ll bring your mount along to the stables, and you can get acquainted with Dorinda.’ Her hand swept towards the bridge. ‘It’s quite safe now, and there are some lovely vistas on the Cascade Walk.’

      Again, he was given no chance to respond. In a flash she was gone up the hill and climbing into the cart. One of the labourers hitched his hired horse to the cart and jumped on the back as it jerked to a start.

      ‘Well…’ Miss Tofton sighed as she waved them off ‘…it’s an unorthodox reception you’ve had, to be sure, Mr Cardea, but as Portia tells me you’ve been acquainted since infancy, I gather you won’t be too surprised by it.’

      Curbing his impatience, Mateo laughed. ‘Surprised that Portia let a landscaping project distract her from every other concern? Not at all, ma’am.’

      She glanced askance at him. ‘I see you do indeed know Portia well.’

      He gestured towards the lake and they set off at an easy pace. ‘Perhaps it surprises you that a half-Italian merchant sea captain should be on intimate terms with the family of an English earl?’

      Her denial came quickly, and, if he were any judge, in sincere terms. ‘Not at all,’ she assured him. ‘Portiahas explained how close your fathers were. I have to say, I was more than a little jealous when she spoke of the visits back and forth your families undertook. It sounds infinitely more exciting than my own childhood.’

      ‘I admit it was great fun, in most instances.’ He smiled down at her. ‘And I will tell you, over the years, in all the months we spent together, there were always constants,’ he said. He held three fingers up. ‘During each and every visit, my father and Portia’s would spend at least one evening drinking and recounting the story of La Incandescent Clarisse.’He folded down one finger and laughed at the sight of her rolled eyes. ‘Yes, I see you are acquainted with the story.’

      He ticked off another finger. ‘At least one of Portia’s brothers would rake up a scrape that I would be forced to rescue him from.’ He raised a brow. ‘Again, you do not look shocked.’

      The last finger he wagged in her direction. ‘And three—whenever Portia went missing, we all knew to look in the gardens.’ He dropped his hand and sighed. ‘I have only just finished telling myself that in a world of chaos, it is most comfortable to know that some things do not change.’

      Miss Tofton tucked her hand a little more firmly into the crook of his arm. For a few moments they walked in silence and Mateo welcomed the cool comfort of the shade as the path led them through a grove of birches.

      ‘I confess it is a relief to hear you speak fondly of Portia and her family,’ her companion said after a few minutes. ‘I realise that you have not had a chance to discuss…things, but I am very grateful to think that we might have your help.’

      Curiosity quickened his pulse. But as so often happened with women, his silence had encouraged Miss Tofton to continue. ‘One thing I know from experience, Mr Cardea, and I would ask you to remember, is that a woman alone does not have an easy path in this world.’

      ‘None of us alone do, ma’am.’

      ‘You are right, of course, but I profess that it is particularly hard for a woman; we have so many more obstacles and fewer options, you see. A woman in such a situation must display more courage, resilience and determination than a man.’ She let go of his arm and crossed over to a pretty little bench. She ran her fingers over the scrolled ironwork, but did not sit. ‘Portia in particular is strong in many ways, but vulnerable in others. She’s had a difficult time of it since her husband died. Aside from the obvious repercussions, there’s been the unfortunate notoriety…’ She shook her head. ‘And debt—you would not believe some of the indignities she’s been exposed to in settling James Talbot’s debts.’

      Debt Mateo could well believe. Even as a young man, J. T. Tofton’s tastes had run towards high stakes, fast horses and loose women—tastes that a mere squire’s son could not often indulge. But notoriety, indignities? The companion’s words and manner suggested something more than a husband who lived a little beyond his means. A sharp spike of curiosity peaked inside him, followed by a faint sense of shame.

      ‘You will be happy to hear, perhaps, that