Page 26 of The Duke Says I Do
Without speaking, Portia obeyed. Granville appeared accustomed to romantic intrigue. Was it possible that the famously virtuous duke wasn’t quite the pattern card of duty and respectability that he presented to the world?
As she subsided onto a wooden chair behind the screen, the suspicion that Alaric Dempster could be wicked presented fascinating possibilities. Which was mad when she was at his mercy. If ever she needed His perfectly behaved Grace to remember his principles, it was when she was in his bedroom.
A door clicked open. “Shall I help you to…” The unknown speaker faltered to a stop. “Is that a…dog, Your Grace?”
The horror in the man’s voice made Portia want to laugh.
“It is indeed.” Granville’s airiness contrasted with his original reaction to Jupiter, when he’d sounded as put out as his valet did.
“In your apartments?”
“This is Jupiter, Hobbs. I hope you’ll be great friends, now he’s joined the household.”
Portia didn’t want to like Granville any more than she already did. But her heart softened when he claimed Jupiter as his own.
“Your Grace, I must protest.”
“Please don’t make me choose between London’s finest valet and my new best friend.”
The tone was pleasant, the flattery overt, and the threat clear. Astonishment flooded Portia. Granville preferring Jupiter over his valet left her floundering.
“Very good, sir.” Hobbs didn’t sound happy.
Portia hoped Jupiter’s charm would prevail. It had with Granville. She couldn’t imagine London’s best valet having difficulty finding another position, but she hated to think of a faithful servant losing his place because she’d given his employer a pet.
Granville’s laugh made forbidden awareness streak along her backbone. Now that she couldn’t see him, that beautiful baritone worked its magic on her unruly senses. Good heavens, if he spoke seduction, how could she resist?
“I’m in rather a mess,” he said ruefully. “I doubt you’ll get these rags back into a wearable state.”
“Your Grace, you must be frozen. Let me help you.” The man sounded overcome. When she’d hidden behind the screen, Portia hadn’t expected that stifling her giggles would present the greatest danger.
“I’ll look after myself tonight.”
“But, Your Grace…”
“I assume there’s hot water in the bedroom.”
“Of course, sir.”
The man sounded almost as scandalized at the idea that there mightn’t be as he was at Granville’s rumpled appearance. Not to mention Jupiter’s presence. “But you’ll require my assistance. Had you forgotten that you planned to attend Lady Plunkett’s musicale?”
So had Portia, she realized with a start. When she’d set out this afternoon, she’d imagined that she’d rescue Jupiter with ease, then hide him in the stables before she left for the party.
“To the devil with that. I feel like a night in.”
“In that case, shall I bring Your Grace’s dressing gown?”
“No, I’ll shift for myself. I have some parliamentary papers to check. You may take the evening off.”
“But, Your Grace…” The man sounded as if he was strangling. “I’ll arrange a bath at the very least.”
“That will be all, Hobbs. I’ll see you in the morning.” The tone remained polite, but the command was unmistakable.
A soft knock announced another arrival, she guessed a footman. “Mr. Sheriff suggested Your Grace might appreciate some more hot water.”
“Capital,” Granville said. “Place it over there.”
“I’ll take it through to the washstand,” Hobbs said.
