Page 23 of The Duke Says I Do
However the praise worked with the dog, it had a mesmerizing effect on Portia. That was a pest when she needed to concentrate on Jupiter. In her sopping clothes – the apron provided little protection against Jupiter’s frantic efforts to escape – she should be cold. Granville’s nearness made her feel far too warm.
“He looks clean to me, my lady,” Phipps said.
With a sigh, Portia dropped the flannel that she used to wash Jupiter’s more delicate areas. The water was black and scummy. “That’s the best we’ll do for a first bath.” She scratched behind Jupiter’s ears. “You’ve been a brick, Jupiter. A real hero.”
“Shall I lift him out?” Granville was as wet as she was. His fine white shirt turned transparent, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest. In full evening dress, the Duke of Granville looked superb. But heavens above, how every debutante in Mayfair would swoon if they saw him now.
“Yes, please. I’d like to rinse him off with clean water.”
Sheriff arrived with a pile of towels considerably more luxurious than the rough linens that Phipps had found in the storeroom. A gangling youth followed, carrying two buckets of hot water.
“Good man.” Granville rose to lift Jupiter out of the tub. The dog whined and his short legs scrabbled in the air. OnceGranville placed him on the ground, he released a canine sigh of relief. And had a thorough shake, spreading water everywhere. Dripping wet, he was a sorry sight, even if much cleaner than he had been.
“I hope you don’t mind, sir, but I’ve asked my nephew to help,” Sheriff said with commendable dignity, given everyone else was soaked to the skin. “You can trust him to keep Lady Portia’s presence a secret.”
Granville directed a serious look at the boy. “Matty, you must give me your word that you will never betray our trust. This dog owes his life to Lady Portia. It would be wrong if she suffered for her kindness.”
Matty, all knees and elbows, didn’t seem to hear. Instead his eyes went as round as saucers. “Cor, you know my name!”
“Matty Gant!” Sheriff bleated in dismay. “That’s not how to address your betters.”
All day, Portia had been coming round from her dislike for the Duke of Granville. But she fell in love with him when, instead of climbing on his high horse, he laughed and clapped Matty on the back. “Of course I know your name, lad. Sheriff and I have big plans for you. Now come and meet Jupiter. You can hold him while we rinse him off.”
Thank goodness, everyone was busy finishing up Jupiter’s bath, because her ability to speak deserted her. She’d seen so many examples of Granville’s kindness, but his generosity to an awkward boy sliced through the last of her misgivings.
From earliest childhood, Portia had valued kindness above all other qualities. And loathed its opposite. Hatred for cruelty from the strong toward the weak, the attitude that one hurt another creature just because one could, had launched her crusade to save as many animals as she could.
The horrors that she’d seen meant she knew to value a kind heart wherever she found it.
Against all expectations, she’d found one of the kindest hearts she’d ever known in her sister’s rejected suitor. A lesson against leaping to conclusions based on superficial impressions.
If this was love, it wasn’t very comfortable. She felt like an ax had struck her. How had this happened? Yes, her liking had grown as the day progressed. Yes, it turned out that this man she’d dismissed as a prig and a bore turned out to be everything she admired. Yes, he’d kissed her. Too briefly, but with enough intent to hint at heavenly delights in store.
None of that should scar her heart so deeply that she feared she’d never recover. Because that was how this felt. Like Granville’s image was etched on her soul forever.
And it was a disaster.
Because he remained the Duke of Granville. Influential. Elegant. Universally admired. Her sister’s former suitor. The man searching for the perfect duchess.
Nobody in their right mind would call Portia a perfect duchess. Portia with her impulsive nature and outspoken manner. Not to mention her menagerie of rescued animals.
The prospect of a lifetime with Alaric Dempster struck her as paradise. Except that he’d never consider her as a potential bride. Even if one overlooked his history with Juliet, Portia could never be a great political hostess or a leader of fashion.
She was just a girl who attracted him. A girl he’d kiss then abandon. A girl he’d forget while he pursued the life that he was born to lead.
The bleak reality of her situation made her want to howl louder than Jupiter in his bath.
***
“He smells better than he did.” Granville kneeled beside Jupiter, toweling him dry.
Lady Portia’s quietness niggled at him. Nor had she taken an active part in the final steps to make Jupiter presentable.
“I should hope so.” Phipps rather than Portia replied to his remark. “He was no bouquet of roses when you found him. I’m not sure the carriage will recover.”
“You’ll work your magic, I’m sure.” He wished that Portia would say something. After their hours together, he knew that silence wasn’t her default position.
Was it Matty? While he knew the boy well enough to trust to his discretion, Portia didn’t. But she’d taken the entrance of Phipps and Sheriff into their conspiracy in her stride.
