Dusk With a Dangerous Duke by Alexandra Hawkins

Hunter assumed he was busy attempting to coax his lady to leave the ball early.
    Someone had told him Frost and Vane were in attendance, but he had not seen either gentleman.
    How difficult was it to track down one lady?
    Annoyed that once again his thoughts were directed toward the chit, he opened the door with more force than was necessary. Hunter stepped into the room. The interior was lit, and appeared to be a small private parlor. Perhaps it had been intended as a respite from the activities below, but no one had taken advantage of the solitude.
    “Hunter, this is an unexpected pleasure.”
    He immediately recognized the feminine voice. Putting a half smile on his face, he turned to greet the one lady he would have avoided if he had known she had decided to attend the Lovelaces’ ball. “Lady Cliffton, how long has it been?”
    “Too long if you have forgotten that you used to call me Portia,” she said, the hint of a pout forming on her full lips.
    “That was before you married Cliffton.” He took her hand and bowed. “You should be grateful I have decided to behave myself.”
    The twenty-eight-year-old Portia Fletcher, Countess of Cliffton, looked as lovely as she had when he’d first met her, when she was seventeen and attending her first ball.
    A year and a half older than Portia, Hunter had been smitten that first meeting. Three weeks later, he was convinced that he was in love. It had been a unique experience for him, for no other lady had touched his heart as Portia had. Nevertheless, their future appeared bleak from the onset. While the lady’s family was determined to see her marry well, Hunter had been unable to offer for her hand.
    He had a promise to keep to his grandmother.
    No amount of tearful pleas from Portia could persuade him into breaking his vow. Disappointed by his decision and concerned that their daughter’s friendship with Hunter might discourage other wealthy suitors, her father accepted the first marriage offer, which happened to be the slightly older Lord Cliffton.
    Although Hunter had no right to interfere, he had tried to talk Portia into refusing Cliffton’s offer. She was willing as long as Hunter discarded Lady Grace so he could marry her. He had been tempted. At least his feelings for Portia would not have been feigned. In the end, her parents had won. They justly forbade him from seeing their daughter, and then used his abandonment to convince her that Lord Cliffton was a respectable choice after her scandalous behavior with a gentleman who was engaged to marry another lady.
    Portia married Cliffton and gave the earl two handsome sons. On the surface, she seemed content with her marriage. Hunter deliberately kept his distance. He had done enough to hurt her and himself. From that day on, he avoided emotional entanglements. His ill-fated relationship with Portia was just another reason why he had resented the young girl his grandmother had foisted off on him. When he had lost Portia, it had felt as if love had been plucked from his grasp.
    The passing years and the nameless women who had briefly caught his interest had eased the pain of choosing his honor over love. These days, while he occasionally felt regret, he was also plagued with a lingering guilt over Portia. Not once had he even asked for her forgiveness.
    He smiled wistfully. “You look well, my lady. If you were not already married, all the chits hopeful for a good match this season would be envious of your beauty.”
    “May I return the compliment?” she asked, entering the small parlor. “It has been three years since I last spoke to you. Where have you been hiding yourself that you have no time to visit with old friends?”
    He stifled the small annoyance he felt at the suggestion that he had been hiding from her. “I have not been exactly hiding, Portia. I just have other amusements that distract me from spending my evenings in stuffy ballrooms.”
    Would she be appalled to learn that he enjoyed last season