Page 4 of The Duke Says I Do
If he wasn’t running so hard, he’d groan. He’d always had a weakness for a nice pair of legs.
If anyone had asked him a week ago what he thought of Portia Frain, he’d have responded with a derisive snort and said something about chits with more hair than wit. But she’d been cool through the crisis and she kept up with him now without complaint.
As he and Portia skittered around corners and down dark passageways, his ears strained for the sounds of pursuit. But either Jim and Alf had decided that a tenner was a good return on the day’s adventures, or he and Portia had lost them.
The problem was that Granville had managed to lose himself, too. He knew his way around the part of the docks where his shipping company kept its offices. But the twists and turns that they followed now left him bamboozled.
Jupiter released an excited bark and raced ahead. “Pipe down, you brainless beast,” Granville panted. The last thing he wanted was for Jupiter’s excitement to lead Jim and Alf their way.
“He’s not a brainless beast,” Portia said. “He’s a good boy.”
Granville very much doubted that, but this was no time to argue the point.
Eventually he stopped to catch his breath, leaning back against the filthy bricks in a litter-strewn courtyard. He needed to spend more time with his fencing master and less sitting around paper-strewn offices with his political cronies.
God alone knew what was smeared across the wall behind him. God alone knew what his coat would look like after all this rough treatment. Hobbs, his starchy valet, would have a fit when Granville finally made it home.
If he made it home between homicidal cockneys and featherbrained do-gooders.
Beside him, the hen-witted do-gooder’s flushed cheeks and disheveled hair made her look ridiculously beautiful. Somewhere in their mad dash, she’d lost her very becoming bonnet. If Jim or Alf stumbled upon it, that would make a nice bonus on top of what Granville had paid for Jupiter.
As she caught her breath, her full bosom rose and fell in the most intriguing fashion. Granville fought the urge to kiss her. He must be losing his mind. Kiss a Frain? He’d rather have his teeth knocked out with a fence post.
Except…
“You can let go of my hand now,” Portia said in an expressionless voice.
Chapter 2
The Duke of Granville had too much assurance to blush, so the heat that stung his cheeks must be something else instead. Although he couldn’t recall taking Lady Portia’s hand as they fled, he must have. “I beg your pardon.”
He didn’t blush, and he didn’t regret it one bit when he released her gloved hand. And his hand didn’t feel cold and empty, once he no longer curled his fingers around hers.
Jupiter sat on the muddy cobbles in front of him, regarding him with an air of expectation that made him uncomfortable. He met the dog’s bright brown eyes and told himself that the animal could have no idea of Granville’s discomfort with today’s events.
By God, he wished he’d stayed in bed in his mansion in Lorimer Square today.
He didn’t want to be stuck heaven knew where in the most dangerous part of London.
He didn’t want to share the company of an addle-headed Frain woman. All his dealings with that family ended in disaster.
Most of all, he didn’t want to find Lady Portia attractive.
As he should by now have realised, fate or the universe or the Deity paid no heed to what His Grace of Granville wanted.
Self-pity was unforgivable, coming from a man with every worldly advantage. But he couldn’t help feeling ill-used. He’d felt ill-used for years.
As if following his train of thought, Jupiter’s whine sounded sympathetic. Which just went to prove that Granville really was losing his mind.
“Do you always carry a gun with you?” Thank the Lord, he didn’t sound like he was about to collapse.
Lady Portia had come through the chase in better state than him, damn it. At least she managed to stand on her own two feet. Eyes the rich color of lapis lazuli surveyed him with cool dislike, familiar from his days courting her sister. “I do when I’m heading into the East End to rescue a dog. Do you think I’m a fool?”
Tact forbade an answer, although he suspected that Portia was well aware that he had no time for her. He hoped to hell that she hadn’t picked up today’s awkward reaction to her presence. “What the devil are you doing in Wapping on your own?”
The disdain that always nettled him arched her eyebrows. Except today he was too busy finding that haughty face beguiling to pay much attention. What in blazes was wrong with him? Had he hit his head somewhere and he didn’t remember it?
“I don’t believe you have any right to question my movements, Your Grace.” The cool tone should dowse the heat in his blood like a shower of freezing rain. Instead, it made him want to kiss her more than ever. To wipe the barely concealed derision from those full lips until only passion remained.
