Page 56 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
Portia looked bewildered. “Juliet, what—”
“Lady Portia, kindly assume control of your mongrels,” Granville demanded.
Portia’s response conveyed scorching dislike. “They’re good dogs.”
“Oh! Oh! Oh, my. Oh, dear. Nice doggy. Nice doggy,” Celia Edgecombe twittered in a hysterical tone only likely to work the dogs up. “I fear for my life! Get off! Get off!”
Evesham had been away from England for a long time, but he recalled that she used to be one of the worst gossips in London. He couldn’t imagine that had changed.
“Don’t be such a dashed ninny, Celia,” her husband said wearily from beside her, pushing Red away from where he’d jumped up on her. “He’s just playing.”
“His Grace is right, Portia,” Portdown said with an attempt at regaining his authority. “Call your dogs.”
Heaving an impatient sigh, Portia moved away from Juliet and clicked her fingers. “Red. Scratch. Bella. Heel.”
The dogs obeyed straightaway and retreated to sit panting behind their mistress. At the same moment, the musicians ceased to play.
The abrupt silence descended like the crack of doom. For a prickly moment, the crowd of people, swollen now with the horde who had rushed up the path to see what all the fuss was, eyed one another.
Evesham had reached the end of his tolerance for all these dramatics. The beau monde had enjoyed quite enough entertainment for one evening, both planned and unplanned.
He turned to Juliet with a bow and presented his arm. “My lady, allow me to escort you up to the house.”
“I’ll come, too,” Portia said, as if afraid that her sister might make a scene.
But he knew that Juliet had reached a point where all she wanted to do was hide. To his surprise, she accepted his arm.
“Thank you,” she said in a muffled voice. The frantic grip of her fingers betrayed how close she verged to the limits of endurance.
Evesham drew on five hundred years of ducal ancestors and summoned up a tone worthy of Granville at his loftiest. “Make way for her ladyship.”
It worked. Without a word, the crowd parted for him to lead Juliet through.
Sadly, the quiet didn’t last. He heard chatter crescendo behind them, as he reached the torchlit path that led up to the house. Juliet stumbled, but found her balance before he could help her.
“Juliet…” He’d give anything to make everything right. But it was too late for that.
“Please, no more.” Unshed tears thickened her voice. “I beg you, if you have a shred of kindness for me, don’t say anything.”
Another stab of hurt. Much more piercing than the pain that radiated from his jaw. He couldn’t recall the last time a woman – anyone – had possessed the ability to affect his emotions, but Juliet did. “Very well. I’ll leave you in peace tonight, but we need to talk tomorrow.”
Her stricken look left him feeling like he’d kicked a puppy. “I don’t think I want to talk to anyone ever again.”
He faltered and reached for her hand. “My darling…”
But Portia and her dogs rushed up behind them, and the moment was lost.
Chapter 16
Juliet’s knees were so unsteady that she needed to cling to Evesham until they reached the house. Even if right now, she’d give up her hope of heaven in return for never having to see him again.
Despite a few stumbles, she managed to walk the distance. The thought of collapsing in a heap and him carrying her the rest of the way made her want to vomit.
Thank goodness, he didn’t say anything. What was there to say?
Standing in the middle of that repulsive brouhaha tonight had been the worst experience of her life. She’d wanted to shrivel up and die. Every lewd snicker and knowing glance had felt like someone peeling off her skin an inch at a time.
In the hall, Evesham consigned her to Portia’s care, still with the gentleness and concern that she should appreciate. But gratitude couldn’t pierce the haze of misery enveloping her. As the two women climbed the stairs away from him, he remained below with the dogs.
