Page 20 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
“You’ll like me when you get to know me.”
“I doubt it. But everyone else in my family thinks you’re marvelous. I refuse to fight a losing battle.”
He responded with a gust of laughter. “You can yield with honor.”
He suspected that Juliet did everything with honor. She was that sort of woman. His grandmother was the only person he’d ever known with anything like this gallant girl’s courage and grit. Yet Juliet possessed a warmth that his grandmother had lacked.
No wonder Granville had set his marital hopes on her. She’d make a perfect duchess.
“I haven’t yielded, Your Grace.” Her direct stare told him that she knew exactly what he’d like to do with her.
No doubt she did. This was no wide-eyed debutante. This was a woman who understood the world and its dangers.
Right now, she counted the Duke of Evesham among those dangers.
To his regret. Not to mention to the credit of her good sense.
However, strategy hinted that he should change the subject. “Your father is an insightful director.”
Juliet accepted the silent offer of a truce, thank heaven. “Yes, he is.”
“And his daughters inherited his acting talent.”
“Not really. Although Viola has a knack for comedy, which is a surprise because she’s very self-effacing in real life.”
“Yet she caused a scandal?”
“If it had been Portia, I’d be less surprised. But Viola always had her nose in a book, and she never showed the slightest interest in any of the local boys. Even if she fell head over heels for a young man, I imagined her choosing someone sweet and unworldly. A bit like Henry Bell, who you’ll meet while you’re here. But Renfrew is a wild young man with a reputation almost as bad as—”
“Mine?”
She didn’t respond to that. She didn’t have to. “Now that they’re married, I hope he doesn’t break my sister’s heart. If he does, I may just poisonhissoup.”
Viola Frain’s hurried wedding had been the fresh tattle when Evesham arrived in London. Everybody forecast disaster for the cobbled-together match.
If Viola was anything like her older sister, perhaps Renfrew had found himself in the grip of overpowering attraction. After all, Evesham was, and nobody in their right mind would say that he and Lady Juliet had anything in common.
He regarded her in admiration. “How fierce you are.”
She shrugged, as though strength of character in a female was nothing remarkable. He’d clearly associated with the wrong females. An admission with which most of the world would agree.
“I defend the people I love.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment as a footman slid the empty bowl out of the way. “Then they are privileged to earn your regard.”
She frowned. More in confusion than disapproval, for once. “You sound sincere.”
“I am occasionally,” he said lightly. “Don’t tell anyone.”
She still looked bemused. “And we almost managed a sensible conversation.”
“Along with a few slurs on my reputation.”
“I’m sorry.” Appealing humor flirted with that lush pink mouth. He wished to glory that she’d give him a genuine smile. “If I was as proper as everyone thinks I am, I’d pretend to be too refined to listen to gossip.”
“How did Lady Portia describe you? Full of passion and ardor?”
Another pretty blush. “That’s only when I’m playing a part.”
