Page 3 of The Duke Says I Do
Granville wasn’t surprised to see that Alf was even bigger than Jim. That was how the day progressed. It had been on a downward spiral since he’d first glimpsed Lady Portia on her ridiculous rescue mission.
Alf stepped up beside Jim. “Good of you, chum.”
“I advise against violence,” Granville snapped. To his annoyance, the voice of authority had less effect on Jim and Alf than on Jupiter.
“Do you indeed, my dandy?” Jim sneered. “Hand over your blunt, and we might let you and the lady go. Might, mind you.”
Granville was wise enough to worry. He wasn’t exactly afraid. The Dempsters had been lauded for their courage since Philippe d’Ans-Terre fought with William the Conqueror. However large Jim and Alf might be, he could handle them. If he was alone. But the rub of the matter was keeping Portia from harm.
Nonetheless, he believed that they could get out of this. Sacrificing a few pounds to these bastards might pique his pride, but hardly mattered. He could tell that any request for Portia to abandon the dog would prove fruitless. The Frains, he knew to his cost, were as stubborn as mules. If they weren’t, he’d havebeen Portia Frain’s brother-in-law this past year. A thought that filled him with horror.
“Think,” Granville said. “London is full of dogs. I give you ten quid. We take the dog and go on our way. You get a nice pile of blunt to buy a dozen mongrels, if that’s how you choose to spend it. No trouble for anyone.”
“I’ve got a taste for trouble,” Jim said slyly. “Ready, Alf?”
Stifling a sigh, Granville stepped in front of Portia and in one smooth movement, pulled the sword from inside his fashionable walking cane. “Don’t be too hasty.”
Surprise and something that looked like excitement sparked in Jim’s eyes. “I hope you know how to use that, my bullyboy. It’s still two against one.”
“Whether he does or not, I know how to use this.” Portia’s voice was calm. “So don’t do anything stupid.”
Granville chanced a quick glance away from Jim to see that Portia stood a few inches back from him. One gloved hand held a pretty mother-of-pearl pistol aimed square at Jim. Her exquisite highbred face was determined, and her hand was steady.
“Give us the dog and let us go.” Her voice was almost as imperious as Granville at his most ducal.
“I’ve got a knife,” Jim said, although Granville saw that the appearance of weapons had rattled him. He brushed his thick leather coat back to reveal a large blade tucked into his belt.
“Is it worth risking injury?” Granville asked.
“Especially when you can still have your ten quid,” Portia said.
Despite himself, Granville couldn’t help but admire her nerve. She might be a fool, but she was a deuced brave one.
Jupiter whined and strained at the leash. “Stop your fucking wriggling,” Jim snarled at the dog, aiming a kick at his black and white flank.
Portia gasped in protest. Jupiter yelped and broke free. Instead of taking off down the alley, he headed straight for Granville and skulked behind him.
Jim surged forward, only stopping when Portia raised the pistol. “Take your money and go.”
“Grab the blunt, Jim,” Alf said. “This ain’t worth a bullet in your hide. Nor mine.”
For a moment, Granville wondered if Jim, like Portia, would allow obstinacy to outweigh pragmatism. Then the thick shoulders lowered, and he spat at Granville’s feet with a disgust that didn’t disguise his surrender.
“Move left so we’ve got somewhere to run,” Granville muttered to Portia.
Keeping the gun trained on Jim, Portia sidled around until the alley was behind her. For once, saints be praised, she didn’t argue.
“Give me my money,” Jim growled.
Granville withdrew his pocketbook from his coat and pulled out two five-pound notes. He dropped them to the cobbles and placed one glossy boot on them to stop them blowing away. Jim’s attention fixed on the money. Alf’s posture indicated that he’d lost any interest in a fight, thank God. As Jim bent, Jupiter gave a soft growl.
“Shut your trap, you useless cur,” Jim snarled.
Granville jumped back and sheathed his sword. He grabbed Portia’s hand. “Let’s go!”
Jim lurched to catch the money before the wind carried it away. Portia pocketed her pistol and dived down to collect the frayed rope attached to Jupiter’s collar. But the dog soon broke free to run at her heels.
Granville suffered a fleeting worry that Lady Portia mightn’t be up to his speed, until she broke into a fast run. He caught a glimpse of surprisingly stout half boots, as she gathered up herskirts and dashed along the alley beside him. Even through his urgent need to escape, he noticed Lady Portia’s lovely long legs and finely turned ankles.
