Portia sat by the window, her fingers loosely clasped around a warm cup of tea that had long gone cold. She was waiting. Expecting that since they were now acting as husband and wife both officially and emotionally, Cristiano would come to see her. Or he would shift back to his old residence.
Earlier that day, she had met her mother.
The moment Duchess Hawthorne laid eyes on her daughter, she sensed something had shifted between the newlyweds. There was a glint in Portia's eyes she hadn't seen before as it was something soft, something uncertain.
With the gentle wisdom only a mother could possess, she smiled and said, "Cristiano is not like your father or your brother, Portia. But he is still a man. Every man has a soft corner for the woman he calls his own… it just takes time for that corner to take shape."
Portia had quietly listened with her gaze lowered and open mind.
