Page 38 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
“We’ve all worked so hard,” Portia said. “When you see the show, you’ll understand that there’s no harm in what we do.”
“I did invite Your Grace to attend the rehearsal,” Portdown added. “If you had, I’m sure that would have allayed your misgivings.”
“I’m only trying to ensure no untoward talk mars our nuptials,” Granville said, lips thin with annoyance.
Untoward talk had marred his first engagement. It must burn like acid that the man who had brought that match to an end was also on the scene this time around.
“I appreciate your care for my daughter, Your Grace. Your concern for her reputation does you credit,” Portdown said.
Evesham knew he was lying through his teeth. He didn’t appreciate it at all, the old trickster.
Portdown went on. “But Juliet has been in my care all her life. She doesn’t become your responsibility until the day of the wedding. If I say no dishonor attaches to her name by performing a quarter hour on the stage, my word prevails.”
Both Granville and Juliet looked annoyed at that. Evesham hid a smile behind his wineglass. This was a strong, independent woman who chose her own path. She wouldn’t appreciate her father’s patronizing tone. Especially when Evesham was well aware that most of the day-to-day management at Afton, not to mention her sisters’ upbringing, had been left to her.
“I’d like to play the part,” Juliet said firmly. “If, as Duchess of Granville, I must forsake something I’ve always enjoyed, it would be nice to finish on a high note.”
Her tone brooked no argument. Granville nodded that glossy head in agreement, however grudging. “As you wish. I’m sorry to cause our first argument. It seems a pity to spoil the celebratory atmosphere. I’ll hold my peace.”
The door opened to footmen bearing the fish course. Silence fell until the servants had left. Portdown glanced around the table and lifted his glass of claret. “We’ve toasted Juliet’s wonderful news. Let’s now toast the success of my Shakespeare gala.”
Portia and Evesham readily held up their glasses. If Juliet and Granville were a little slower to respond, only a man as observant as Evesham would notice.
***
After dinner, Portia accompanied Juliet to her bedroom. Juliet rather wished that she wouldn’t. Her sister didn’t like Granville, and after that awful scene at dinner, she wasn’t sure that she was up to more nagging. That awful scene, and her desperation to avoid any contact with Evesham.
She knew that Granville mistrusted and disliked her Romeo. Even more, she was smart enough to guess that more than a little jealousy lurked beneath his concern for her reputation.
The last thing she wanted was her fiancé suspecting that despite her self-righteous assertions, she and Evesham weren’t quite as lily-white as they liked to appear.
She shouldn’t have kissed Evesham. If Granville found out, she feared that blood might be spilled. When there was more than enough fake blood on the stage already.
Even more mortifying, for a moment tonight, she’d wondered if Granville meant to cry off. And instead of dismay, her strongest reaction had been relief.
“So you’ve caught your second duke,” Portia said tartly, once they’d sent Juliet’s maid off to her bed. “Well done.”
Juliet sat at the dressing table, removing her pearl necklace and earrings. She met troubled blue eyes in the mirror. “Please be happy for me, sis. I know you don’t like Granville, but I hope you’ll respect my choice. He and I will make a formidable team, when it comes to doing good in the world.”
She braced for an argument. An argument that right now, she was ill-equipped to win. But after shooting her a probing look, Portia wandered across. “Stand up, and I’ll help you get out of this frock.”
Juliet rose and presented her back to her sister. “Is that all you’re going to say?”
“Yes.” Portia began releasing the back of the azure silk gown. It was one of Juliet’s favorites. She’d chosen it to lift her morale. It hadn’t worked.
She met Portia’s eyes, blue like hers, in the mirror. “Really?”
“I’m entitled to my opinion, but you’ve made your decision. Everybody always said you’d make the perfect duchess. I suppose now we’ll see if that’s true.”
“He’s a good man.” Juliet hid a wince at the plea for affirmation contained in her statement.
“Yes, even I can see that. And you’re a good woman.” Portia moved onto loosening Juliet’s stays. “Goodness shall rule.”
“There’s nothing wrong with goodness.”
“No, there’s not.” Portia spoke with such careful neutrality that Juliet gave a short laugh as she stepped away from her sister.
“Very tactful.”
