Page 54 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
“Your Grace, let’s not be too hasty. The scandal…”
Granville ignored Portdown’s bleating and bared his teeth at Evesham. “You’re poison, Evesham. They should have drowned you at birth. But by heaven, you won’t ruin another woman, if I have anything to say about it.”
“You have no right to defend my honor,” Juliet said in a voice sharp as a knife. “You have no rights over me at all, Your Grace.”
Shock swamped Evesham. He stared at Juliet. “He doesn’t?”
Juliet’s hands dropped to her sides, and she raised her chin. Despite everything, he wanted to applaud her spirit. She must be cringing with humiliation, but right now, she looked like a queen. “I ended my engagement to His Grace this morning.”
Evesham shouldn’t be happy about that. They were in the midst of a full-scale catastrophe. But he wanted to hug her, even if that was how they’d got into this almighty mess in the first place.
“You broke your engagement?” Portdown turned on Juliet, sounding more flustered than ever. “You didn’t say anything.”
He looked as if he weathered a hurricane. Poor bugger, he’d just mounted a brilliant entertainment and achieved success beyond his wildest dreams. Now that accomplishment would disappear beneath a deluge of gossip and recrimination.
“I thought the news could wait until after the gala, Papa.” She sounded like she was fighting tears, blast it. This public exposure of a private moment would scald her to the soul.
“But why would you jilt Granville?” Portdown asked in confusion.
“Because the silly widgeon has fallen victim to Evesham’s wiles,” Granville said through his teeth. “Can’t you see what’s going on?”
“I’ll thank you to address Lady Juliet with respect,” Evesham said with matching heat.
Behind them, the applause petered out over a murmur of curiosity from the audience. With the thunderous ovation fading, the sound of the orchestra drifted through the air. They were playing something jolly that created a sickening clash with the tension in the glade.
“All I want to hear from you is that you accept my challenge,” Granville sniped back, rubbing the knuckles of his right hand. Evesham, whose face ached like the very devil, was glad that he wasn’t the only one in pain after that massive thump.
“Can’t you see that will only plunge us further into scandal?” Desperation honed Juliet’s voice. “If you ever cared a whit for me, Your Grace, please forget what you saw and go back to London.”
Granville’s chiseled features set in obstinate lines. “The world will be a better place without this human fungus causing misery wherever he goes.”
“There’s no need for this to go any further,” Portdown protested, his hands fluttering with distress. “Juliet is right. High jinks after a performance are regrettable, but nothing out of the ordinary.”
“I’m taking Juliet back up to the house. If anyone wants to say more, they can say it in private, not where every rumormonger in society can interrupt us,” Evesham announced. “And somebody needs to go back to the stage and keep the audience busy, or else they’ll all be here, sticking their noses in our business. Lady Juliet, will you accompany me?”
“Don’t you dare run away, you slimy toad,” Granville bit out before she could answer. He was so livid, he, too, had forgotten discretion. “Do you accept my challenge?”
“I’m not going to fight you, Granville,” Evesham growled. “As Lady Juliet said, that will only make everything worse. Have some sense, man.”
“I want you dead.” Granville bit out every word as if it cut him. “I should have bloody well killed you nine years ago.”
“Stop it, both of you,” Juliet said, inserting herself between them. “I will not tolerate either of you turning me into a laughingstock, just because of stupid male pride.”
Evesham straightened to his full height and leveled his shoulders. “Lady Juliet, I would consider it an honor if you would marry me.”
He’d proposed last night, and she’d refused him. Surely now, when they were all about to become the talk of London, she’d take him.
“At least this time, you have some idea of doing the right thing,” Granville sneered.
Evesham ignored the pompous clodpoll. All his attention remained fixed on Juliet. From what the fitful light revealed of her face when she turned to him, the outcome wasn’t promising.
“Juliet, my dear, you must agree,” Portdown said in a placating voice.
Evesham bit back the urge to tell the man to shut up. Didn’t the old fool know that the last word anyone should say to Juliet was “must?”
Juliet’s jaw set at an angle even more obstinate than Granville’s. With a sinking feeling, Evesham knew what she was going to say before she opened her mouth.
“Thank you, Your Grace, but we would not suit.”
