Page 27 of The Duke Says I Do
“No, I don’t wish to be disturbed.”
“As you wish, sir,” Hobbs said with reluctance.
Portia only took a full breath after she heard both doors shut. When Hobbs offered to bring in the hot water, she’d almost had an attack of the vapors. All urge to laugh had vanished. Granville said his staff was loyal, but she feared that the tale of grimy, wet Portia Frain hiding in the Duke of Granville’s apartments was too juicy not to spread.
Granville came around the screen, Jupiter at his heels. “A man’s servants can be too conscientious.”
She lowered the trembling hand pressed to her racing heart and mustered a shaky smile. “Goodness, that was close.”
“Hobbs wouldn’t betray us.”
“I can tell he’s devoted to you.” Like all the servants in this house. It spoke volumes for what sort of master Granville was. Today had been full of surprising discoveries. Rather wonderful discoveries.
Self-preservation insisted that she get out fast. Not just to save her good name. She’d already fallen too far under Alaric Dempster’s spell. She needed to break away and pray to heaven that her heart forgot the duke.
As she rose on shaky legs, her voice emerged unnaturally high. “I can’t say here.”
He made a conciliatory gesture. “You have my word that you’re safe.”
Portia linked her hands together at her waist. “I still can’t stay. Papa lives in his own world most of the time and Aunt Mabel isn’t the world’s most diligent chaperone, but at some stage, they’ll both realize that I haven’t come home.”
“You need to change into something dry.”
“A maid’s dress?”
“I’ll lend you some clothes, then see you safely across the square. If we stick to the shadows, a coat and trousers and a hat will do the trick. Nobody will look twice to see me out with another man.”
Jupiter sat and watched Granville, as if he couldn’t imagine him concocting a plan that was less than brilliant. Portia had a suspicion that it would be simple to entrust all decisions to the duke, but it wouldn’t do. She’d fought hard to carve some independence for herself. Just because his smile made her knees weak didn’t mean she turned into a clinging vine.
“That might work.” It was clever, she had to admit. And she was more than ready to get out of the filthy, clammy frock.
“Can you get back into your house without being seen?”
“I’ll get Rankin to send for Betty, my maid. We’ll manage.”
“Let me help with the apron. Then you can wash, while I find you something to wear.”
“Thank you.” She appreciated him sticking to practicalities.
Nonetheless, the promise of more kisses hovered. Portia was generally even-tempered and unshakable, but her iron nerve failed at the thought of what might happen in this room. A magnificent mahogany bed dominated the chamber. She wouldn’t be human if thoughts of sharing that bed with its owner didn’t tiptoe across her mind.
She presented her back, struggling not to remember what had happened when he’d helped her to put the apron on. To her relief, he was quicker this time. He slid the apron off and tossed it over the top of the screen.
“I think…I think you may need help with your dress.” His voice held a husky note.
She licked dry lips and cursed her choice of gown. She had plenty of dresses that fastened up the front, but this wasn’t one of them. She’d been coming home from her old governess’s house when she caught sight of Jim and Jupiter disappearing down a side street and she’d set off in pursuit.
She wanted to tell Granville that she’d stay in the wet dress after all. But those weren’t the words that emerged. “Do you mind?”
His voice turned even gruffer. “Of course not.”
She raised her arms to shift her hair out of the way. The movement lifted her breasts. Breasts that ached for a man’s touch. For Granville’s touch.
Dear Lord, she didn’t recognize herself. Over the years, she’d dealt with hundreds of men. Apart from a brief unrequitedpenchant for the vicar’s son when she was fourteen, none had made her heart race. Today, the merest sight of Alaric Dempster set her heart galloping like a wild horse.
The man who had almost married her sister. The man she’d once called the most boring gentleman in England.
Right now, she was anything but bored. Compared to this turmoil, boredom would be a blessed relief.
