Page 24 of The Duke Says I Do
Was she worried about getting home undetected? Her gown was wet, and her damp hair hung down her back in a tangle of dark gold. Anyone who saw her would know that she’d been up to no good.
Her silence tied his gut into knots. Dear God, don’t let her regret their kisses. She’d seemed to enjoy being in his arms. She’d seemed eager to step into his arms again.
He wasn’t used to stewing over female megrims, but something inside him was desperate for Portia to be happy. The devil of it was that he couldn’t ask her what was wrong while they had an audience.
Jupiter whined and shifted under a toweling that wasn’t as brisk as it had been. Granville realized that he gawked at Portia like a thunderstruck yokel visiting London for the first time.
But by God, she was lovely. Even now when she looked like a drowned rat. During his courtship of her sister, he’d always found Portia too much. Juliet was measured and calm. Portia…wasn’t. She was too vivid, too passionate, too alive.
Now that electric quality struck him as perfect. She made a man recognize that he was on this earth just once, and he ought to take advantage of that fact.
She’d said that she liked him. But two fiancées had decided that he wasn’t the man for them. Had Portia reconsidered her plan to kiss him again? Denial churned in his belly.
“We should feed Jupiter,” she said.
In Granville’s ears, her voice sounded strained. She avoided his questioning glance.
Then he wanted to kick himself for being such a dolt. The evening advanced and with it, the evening chill. “By heaven, my lady, you must be freezing. We need to get you out of those wet clothes.”
Dear Lord. He wanted to kick himself even harder for being doubly a dolt. He refused to look at the servants.
Rosy color flooded Portia’s cheeks. Her hands tangled in front of the wet apron, and her eyelashes fluttered down. She must want to kill him. Despite promising discretion, here he announced his intentions to the world. Or at least three servants, one dog, and the lady he desired.
She plucked at sodden skirts that showed an unfortunate tendency to cling to the sinuous lines of her hips. He struggled not to notice. Unsuccessfully.
“Yes, that would be good,” she said in a muffled voice.
Granville cleared his throat and turned to Sheriff. He strove to sound as if he remained in control of circumstances that rapidly unraveled in all directions. By God, the Duke of Granville wasalwaysin control. What in Hades was going on? “Do we have any women’s clothes in the house?”
“Only those belonging to the female staff, Your Grace.” Sheriff’s distant stare hinted that he’d caught his employer’s faux pas. The man had known him since he was a boy. He’d recognize that Granville’s interest in Portia extended beyond the platonic. Good God, how could he not? Granville had never before brought an unaccompanied lady to this house. To any of his houses.
Phipps wouldn’t miss much either. He’d served the Dempsters as long as Sheriff had.
“Enough people are aware of my presence already,” Portia said.
Granville, who was having inappropriate visions of Lady Portia in a neat white apron and a mobcap, spread his hands in apology. “Mine is a bachelor household, my lady.”
“I should go. I’m sure you’ll find something to keep Jupiter satisfied.” She regained her poise after his gaffe about taking off her clothes. “Phipps and Sheriff, are you familiar with dogs?”
“Not really, my lady,” Sheriff said. “His Grace’s grandfather couldn’t abide them. Called them filthy brutes. Wouldn’t even let the local hunting pack cross his land.”
“Exactly so, my lady,” Phipps said.
“We had dogs growing up, my lady,” Matty piped up.
His uncle shot him a stern glance. “Matty Gant, keep your lip buttoned until you’re spoken to.”
Matty’s mortified flush made his spotty skin look even angrier. “Your pardon, my lady, Your Grace.”
Portia looked interested. “Perhaps His Grace might make you Jupiter’s guardian?”
Granville liked the idea. “Kennel master?”
Matty’s chagrin vanished in a broad smile. “Cor blimey. Too right, Your Grace.”
Sheriff looked like he was about to have a fit. Before he could splutter out another stinging rebuke, Granville spoke. “Then that’s settled. Do you want to start by taking him for a walk in the garden while your uncle puts his dinner together?”
Before Matty could utter another “cor blimey,” his uncle spoke with the voice of authority. “That’s an excellent suggestion, Your Grace.”
