Deb Marlowe - Tall, Dark and Disreputable

Dorrie choked back a laugh. ‘Well, marry she did, and a good thing it was for me too,’ she said staunchly. ‘I’ve hardly been as comfortable and happy in my life as I have since Portia graciously took me in.’

Portia returned her fond smile, but Dorrie continued. ‘And despite their meanness, her brothers were not that far off the mark. Of course, I was just a visitor then, but the house and grounds were both in a terrible condition when Portia and James Talbot moved in.’

Perhaps Portia should not be watching Mateo so closely. Tension throbbed through her until she thought he must be able to sense it. But if she had not been paying such close attention, she might have missed it. There. Just the smallest wince at the corners of Mateo’s eyes. Not a smile line, either; it showed up at the mention of J.T.’s name. She had the fleeting thought that it resembled pain—or perhaps she only thought so because of the stabbing clench of her stomach that occurred for the same reason.

He hid it well, by turning his gaze about him. Despite her anxiety, Portia felt a thrill of pride. She could not be falsely modest about the beautiful prospect; she’d worked too hard to achieve it.

‘Do you mean to say that this—’ he gestured ‘—is all your design?’

‘It is,’ Dorrie answered for her. She glanced at Portia and then graced Mateo with a determined smile. ‘And since there is yet no sign of the tea cart, why don’t the two of you walk along the front of the house? Portia can tell you about the changes she’s made.’

‘A tempting notion, Miss Tofton, were this a social call. But it is not. Portia has stated that she had no notion of my father’s intentions and I’ve offered my apology for jumping to conclusions, but I would like to hear the particulars, if you please.’ Mateo paused, his lips pressed tightly together.

‘Ah, the devil!’ he finally exclaimed, pushing away from the table. ‘This is a damnable snarl we’ve found ourselves in and whether it goes your way or mine in the end, we need to get it untangled—and the sooner, the better.’ He sighed. ‘But I suspect that first we must find out how we ended up here. To begin with, I’d like to hear more of the dilemma you mentioned last—’

Portia jumped to her feet. ‘Please, Mateo?’ she interrupted before Dorrie could catch a hint of her late-night activities. ‘I promise your questions will be answered. And, in fact, there may be a solution to make both of us happy. But if you will bear with me, I’d like to start by showing you some of the history of this house.’

‘Portia…’ He sighed. ‘ Cara , for me, this is already painful enough. I just wish to be done with it and truly there is some urgency…’

She turned a pleading gaze on him and he trailed to a stop. She thought he meant to balk—but then he heaved a sigh.

‘For amoment,’ he relented. ‘And then, Portia, wetalk.’

Grudgingly, he stood and offered his arm. She took it, and then led him on a slow revolution about the house. She spoke ardently as they went, trying to convey her passion along with a picture of the estate as it used to be. And trying to subdue the hum of passion that coursed through her with every step.

But it was difficult. Her head might know how useless and more, how stupid, it was to fall into old patterns. Her heart might shrink, fearful of trusting the man who’d scorned her first, fledgling love and bruised her tender, young soul. But her body—her traitorous body didn’t care. It lit up for him, surging with awareness, trembling with intense response to his nearness.

How could it not? He was Mateo, and he was beautiful. Not the right word, perhaps, for a sun-browned example of strong and robust manhood, but the one she chose none the less. It was the beauty of character that he possessed—stamped into his laughing dark eyes, moulded into the kindness, the confidence and the absolute assurance of his manner. It called to her, just as it always had. And she could not answer.

So she talked instead of the choking ivy that they’d had to tear down, the sagging columns that had barely supported the first-floor balcony, the gradual replacement of the casement windows and large sections of the slate roof. She used every excuse to pull away, to walk ahead and remove herself from danger.

To her relief, he paid close attention, questioning her about the house and grounds, and when they circled back to the veranda he took his seat once more with a shake of his head.

‘I admit to being suitably impressed,’ he said to Dorrie as he held Portia’s chair. ‘Portia’s descriptions are so vivid that I can nearly see the sad state of disrepair that she first encountered here. The enormity of what you’ve accomplished is humbling.’ He gazed about at the tranquil scene. ‘I can only imagine the hue and cry and mess of reconstruction. It must have taken an army of labourers.’

Dorrie chuckled. ‘That’s exactly the remark that all visitors make.’

Conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the refreshments. Portia poured: tea for Dorrie and coffee for Mateo. Strong, hot and sweet—she recalled exactly how he liked it. The quirk of his lips told her that he noticed. He sat back with a sigh of satisfaction.

‘I’m glad you realise the scope of the work we’ve done here, Mateo,’ Portia began, ignoring her own tea. ‘We started with the neglected fields first, and the orchards and the dairy. Once we had an actual income, we began on the house and the gardens.’ She leaned forwards. ‘But we’ve never had an army of hired workers. Everything we’ve done has been through the effort of our small staff and tenants. We’ve all worked hard and made something useful and beautiful. I know that you, of all people, understand what happens when people share goals, work and rewards.’

He stared. She thought he looked curious and a little resentful. ‘I think I know what you are trying to say, Portia. You’ve done an admirable job here.’ He pressed his lips together once more. ‘I suspect you mean to retain your control of Cardea Shipping, but before you decide, I ask that you listen to me, please—’

She cut him off. ‘No, what I’m trying to convey is that we are a family, Mateo. All of us here at Stenbrooke.’China clinked as she pushed her cup to the side. ‘And that is why I need you to help me save it.’

Mateo sat upright, jolted out of his customary lounge by the startling unpredictability of Portia’s words. In fact, that was not remotely what he’d been expecting her to say. He’d thought she’d been laying the groundwork, preparing him to accept her as the head of his company. Instead—

‘Save Stenbrooke?’ he asked. ‘From what? Explain please.’

Her pretty face twisted with pain. ‘You’ve complained that your father betrayed you. I find myself in complete sympathy, for mine failed me.’

‘I’m going to require a more thorough explanation than that.’

‘First I will tell you one last time—I have had no hand in your misfortune. I had no earthly idea of what your father was about, to will me controlling interest in your business.’

‘It is true, Mr Cardea,’ chimed in her companion. ‘I was here when her brother’s solicitor arrived bearing the news. I can testify to her utter shock.’

‘I panicked, in fact,’Portia said. ‘I thought something dreadful must have happened to you.’

Mateo saw sincerity in her eyes and an urgent need to be believed. ‘I’ll accept that—since we’ve met again, I already strongly suspected it. But what does it have to do with Stenbrooke?’

‘Nothing yet.’

Mateo caught his first glimpse of hesitation. He leaned forwards.

‘I was bewildered, but Anthony’s man didn’t have any answers. I sent a letter with him back to Hempshaw, thinking my brother would have them—or at least have news of you.’