Page 19 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
Portdown dismissed that remark with a wave that was becoming very familiar. “Nonsense. You’ve brought me to tears playing Juliet in the past. You’re just getting distracted. And of course, you have a new leading man. It will come right on the night.”
“You always say that,” Juliet said on a sour note.
“I’m always right, aren’t I?”
“You know, he is,” Portia said. “Remember when I was Desdemona and I always giggled when Papa tried to strangle me? Yet it was really powerful the night we putOthelloon for the neighbors.”
“Everything mightn’t be right this time,” Juliet said, shooting her sister a look as if to ask “Whose side are you on?”
“Of course it will be. You just need to rehearse a bit more,” Portdown said in a comfortable voice. Evesham wanted to say “Hear, hear.”
“We should swap the parts around. Portia will make a lovely Juliet, and she’s younger than I am. I can play Ophelia. We both already know the roles.”
Portdown frowned as if considering the plan, then shook his head. “No, you and His Grace look so right together. You’ll get into the spirit of the part.”
“Papa—”
“The matter is closed.” He turned as the butler opened the door to the dining room. “Ah, dinner. All that work in the outdoors gives a man an appetite, don’t you agree, Your Grace?”
“I do indeed,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at Portdown. He was looking at Portdown’s eldest daughter.
***
With only four at dinner, Evesham didn’t expect to speak to Juliet one-on-one. But as Portdown straightaway began to lecture Portia about the way she played Ophelia, that left Juliet and Evesham in a private bubble on the other side of the long mahogany table.
How fortuitous.
“I know you don’t approve of me, my lady, but I believe the matter is settled,” he said, as he eyed a bowl of lobster bisque with a frown. “It’s only for a week.”
“People will talk, and we’re already trying to live down the scandal of Viola’s wedding to Renfrew.” She picked up her spoon and began to eat.
“You can’t stop people talking. You certainly can’t arrange your life around the fear of gossip.”
“Perhapsyoucan’t.” She responded to his worried expression with a cool smile. “I wouldn’t really poison you. The soup is quite safe. You have my word on it.”
He picked up his spoon and tasted the bisque. Delicious. “You want to get rid of me.”
“But plotting an inconvenient duke’s murder is too Shakespearean for words. And likely to overshadow Papa’s gala.”
“Not to mention that it would spoil the duke’s enjoyment of the occasion.”
Her modest silk dress sported a large ruff that covered her to just under her chin. The sleeves were long, and the gown merely skimmed her magnificent figure. She didn’t need to tell him that she’d dressed to look as forbidding as possible. This austere gown conveyed no hint of glorious spring.
But if she meant to play down her looks, she failed utterly. The rich blue made her eyes as mysterious as a moonlit midnight, and the dress’s severe cut couldn’t hide the lush curves of her bosom. The severe knot that confined her golden hair emphasized her high cheekbones and the delicate strength of her jawbone.
“No, no, no, Portia!” Portdown said from the head of the table. “That’s not the idea at all.”
“He takes it all very seriously, doesn’t he?” Evesham said.
“He does.” To his surprise, Juliet’s smile was fond as she looked at her father. So far, Evesham had only seen evidence of the differences between Portdown and his daughter. The principal difference of course being how they felt about Evesham. “He’s a brilliant actor, as you’ll see on the night of the show. I suspect if he’d had to make his living on the boards, he’d have managed very well.”
“So you accept that I’ll be here?”
She sighed in capitulation. At least that was how it sounded. “It seems I must.”
He tried really hard to conceal his triumph. He doubted that he succeeded. “Thank you.”
Juliet’s disdainful glance sparked heat in his unruly blood. “I won’t say you’re welcome.”
