CHAPTER10
Portia sat opposite Wolf in a small, private dining room at The Sinner’s Palace, her body still tingling in all the forbidden places he had brought her to life, and watched as he calmly filled a plate with those big, callused hands. He was capable of such gentleness. It was almost difficult to believe a man of his size could be so tender. That he would bring her to the heights of pleasure and then tend to her as he had done in the aftermath of their lovemaking.
She had been dazed, limp, and sated in the wake of their frenetic passion, words beyond her. And yet, Wolf had maintained the presence of mind to sense there had been another reason for her call upon him. He had not been wrong. But then, before she had been able to reply, he had asked her whether or not she had dined at her ball.
The answer was that she had not. Of course she hadn’t. Sneaking away with the approval of her friend the Duchess of Montrose—and the use of Hattie’s unmarked carriage—had meant that Portia had foregone the customary refreshments offered at the ball, along with the endless quadrilles and waltzes. The dances she did not particularly mind missing. Her quietly growling stomach, however, reminded her that sustenance would not be remiss.
She pressed a discreet hand to her midriff when he leaned nearer to deposit the plate before her. It was laden with a meat pie bearing a rich, flaky crust, some hothouse fruits, and vegetables in an herb-scented butter sauce. “Thank you.”
“Wine?” he asked, already pouring her a glass.
“Yes, please.” She accepted the offering from him, their fingers brushing and sending a new sense of awareness streaking through her. “You need not wait upon me, you know. I am perfectly capable of doing for myself.”
“Of course you are, Countess.” He sent her a charming grin and a wink. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t like doing for you.”
He liked taking care of her. Her heart warmed.
Portia took a sip of her wine, surprised to note it was quite fine, and attempted to banish all the foolish warmth and tender feelings attempting to overwhelm her where Wolf Sutton was concerned. “The wine is as delicious as the meal looks.”
Although she had not intended to offer insult with her observation, the moment the words left her, she understood how they must sound to him.
He raised a brow. “Believe it or not, we know what tastes delicious here in the East End just as well as the nobs in Mayfair.”
She winced. “I did not mean to suggest otherwise.”
He raised his own glass in mock salute. “No harm done, love. Now, eat your meat pie and tell me what brings you to The Sinner’s Palace. Aside from my charming self, that is.”
Guilt lanced her at his astute observation. “Please understand that I took a great risk in coming to you tonight, and it was one I could not justify if it were solely for my own gain.”
He nodded, the teasing air fleeing his handsome countenance, leaving him looking uncharacteristically grim. “I understand your selflessness, Countess. What can I do for you?”
She took another hesitant sip of wine, needing to fortify herself, for every part of her loathed the realization she might have hurt him with her words. “I received another note from my half brother’s mother a few days ago. She requested one hundred pounds. She requires the funds to help Avery, as she claimed.”
“Naturally, you suspect her of lying,” Wolf guessed, scooping up a forkful of meat pie from his own plate.
Her stomach rumbled again, so she gave in, allowing herself a bite of the flavorful, savory dish before continuing. “I do. Avery’s mother is…a less-than-honorable woman. She was my father’s mistress when my half brother was born, and she was one of London’s most famed actresses at the time. Unfortunately, her obsession with drink and opium led her down a path to ruin. I have long feared she took my brother with her.”
Wolf nodded. “She wouldn’t be the first, and Christ knows she won’t be the last.”
Portia had seen Mrs. Courteney on more than one occasion in her youth, and always she had been struck by the other woman’s arresting beauty and magnificent presence. It was a far cry from the destitute, haggard woman who had come calling to Portia’s town house.
“When she and my father parted ways, it was not pleasant for her. I do think she loved him, in her own way,” Portia said thoughtfully. “Or at least as much as Mrs. Courteney could love anyone other than herself. But then, Father was little different. I believe he loved her as well as he could have anyone. Either way, it is more than apparent that Mrs. Courteney has suffered in the intervening years. She appeared to be inebriated when she paid me a visit.”
Father’s contentious marriage with Mother had led him to flagrantly disregard her wishes and propriety both by bringing his paramour of the moment to wherever it was that Mother was in residence. He had flaunted them, Portia suspected, with the desire to hurt her mother. But Mother had remained impervious and cold, unaffected by the appearance of each woman at her door. Mrs. Courteney, however, had been different from the others. Father had fancied himself in love with her. So much so that when the famed Mrs. Courteney had given birth to his illegitimate son, he had allowed Avery to live with and be raised side by side with his legitimate children.
For a time.
Wolf took a sip from his wine, and she found herself watching him, captivated, wishing for a wild moment that they were sharing an intimate dinner somewhere else. That she would not have to leave him in less than half an hour’s time but that instead, she could linger, basking in his presence. She was briefly fascinated by the dip of his pronounced Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
“You ain’t going to give this Mrs. Courteney the blunt, I trust?” he asked, tearing her attention back to the discussion at hand.
“No.” Granville would take note of a missing sum that large, without explanation. But there was no need to elaborate. “However, I was hoping you might have some advice for me.”
It was strange to think that in the span of the few days since she had known him that Wolf Sutton would become someone she trusted with not only her body but her secrets. And yet, there it was. She did trust him. And not because she had no one else to whom she could turn. She had friends and acquaintances aplenty. Rather, it was because of Wolf himself. Being with him felt…natural and easy. She knew, to her core, that he was a good man. An honorable one.
Perhaps it took years of knowing the other variety of gentleman to understand.
“Advice,” he repeated, his hazel stare narrowing in contemplation. “Aye, I’m happy to give it, and any help you’ll be needing. Tell me what’s troubling you.”
She considered how to phrase her request. Since the thought had first occurred to her several days before when she had been perusing her correspondence, she had played out this scene in her mind repeatedly. And still, she had not reached a conclusion on how best to ask this man for his aid without revealing the full story to him.
“I would still like to find my half brother Avery,” she began slowly, for that much was true, despite Granville’s threats, and it did not disclose information that would entangle Wolf in her troubles. “I need to conduct the search very discreetly, however. No one must be aware of my involvement. The only connection I have to Avery is his mother, and I have no notion of where to begin.”
Wolf tilted his head, considering her. “You were originally told he was working at The Sinner’s Palace, yes?”