Page 49 of The Duke Says I Do
Portia hoped her belligerent tone would discourage speculation. She also hoped that only Kate and Leighton had made the link between stray dogs, Portia Frain, and the Duke of Granville. “What are you trying to say, Kate? Are you suggesting a romantic intrigue with Granville? The man my sister jilted? The most proper fellow in Mayfair?”
Kate didn’t back down. But then, Kate had run successful textile mills in the Midlands since she was a girl. “You’re a beautiful woman. I’ll wager Granville isn’t blind to that fact.”
Portia snorted. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m too harum-scarum to be the Duchess of Granville, thank you very much. Granville chose Juliet, for heaven’s sake, because she was the most well-behaved lady in England. I’m not in the running for a proposal.”
To her overwhelming sorrow, none of that was a lie. She’d always known that no wedding ring waited at the end of their affair.
“Perhaps after two broken engagements, he’s decided well-behaved ladies aren’t for him,” Leighton said. “If you’d like a man’s point of view—”
“Which I don’t,” she said stiffly.
Leighton ignored her. “…the duke looked more than a little interested when he danced with you.”
Portia realized with a sinking heart that if she wanted to deflect interest in her relationship with Alaric, she’d chosen precisely the wrong tactic. Her vehement responses only fed her friends’ questions.
“He was just being polite. Remember, he’s the most proper gentleman in London.” She went on to say what she knew tobe the unadulterated truth. “Anyway, even if he is looking for another woman to marry, he’s not going to consider a Frain. When Juliet abandoned him to go off and marry Evesham, he went through the gossip mills and he’d hate that.”
“If you say so,” Kate said grudgingly.
Portia so wished that this topic had never arisen. She answered in a more conciliatory tone. “You and Leighton are still like April and May, despite a couple of years together. You see romance wherever you look.”
Kate didn’t smile. “We just want you to be happy, Portia. When I saw you two together, there was something…right about it.”
That made Portia feel like a worm. And a liar. Because while marriage to Alaric most definitely wasn’t on the table, an affair was. Kate and Leighton might approve of her resolution to seize what happiness she could. After all, Leighton had once been a famous rake.
But even if she confided her plans – and she couldn’t confess all in the middle of a crowded ballroom – she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone talking her out of her decision.
Portia glanced up. To her relief, Alexander Comerford crossed the room to her rescue. “You’re both unhinged. Granville would laugh himself silly if he could hear you. If he had an ounce of humour, that is. Which we all know he hasn’t.”
Before Leighton or Kate could argue, Alexander extended his hand. “I believe this our dance, Lady Portia.”
The broad smile that she fixed to her face made Alexander look startled. They were friends, but there had never been a hint of romance between them. She wanted Kate and Leighton speculating about her and Alexander and not her and Alaric. “How utterly wonderful. I can’t wait.”
Chapter 12
Her heart in her throat, Portia crossed the small square in front of Mary’s house and darted into the side alley where Rankin always waited while she visited her former governess. Today there was no familiar closed carriage, drawn by horses from the Frain stable. Instead, there was a black curricle with the hood up and a pair of bays far more impressive than anything her father owned.
The ton didn’t frequent unfashionable Marylebone, so it was unlikely that anyone she knew would see her. Nonetheless, she lowered a veil from the brim of her bonnet.
“Did you have any trouble?” Alaric asked softly, leaning forward past the rim of the hood. One gloved hand held the reins, and the other stretched out to take her small valise. He, like her, was dressed in plain traveling clothes and he’d pulled his hat down over his face. He set her bag behind the seat before helping her up.
“No. Everything went like a dream.” By now, she should be used to the zap of heat when they touched. Even through two layers of leather, the effect remained as disconcerting as ever. “It doesn’t seem right for fate to cooperate with our plans.”
He laughed softly. “The devil must be on our side.”
She climbed up to sit beside him. Under the canopy, the light was dim. It was afternoon and this early in spring, the day already started to draw in. On the narrow seat, her hip squeezed against his. More heat radiated from where their bodies met.
“Papa has gone down to Hampshire to see Viola and Toby and Benedict. Rankin dropped me at Mary’s and will collect me there on Friday afternoon. She didn’t even blink when I told her I was heading into Essex to rescue a dog.”
Under the brim of his hat, green eyes searched her face. “You sound as if you want to be called out on your plans.”
Self-mockery turned down her lips. “I’ve been so afraid something would stop me leaving. I keep waiting for the gun to go off. I’m a nervous wreck.”
“You can change your mind, you know.” He kept hold of her hand. “Go home and sleep the sleep of the innocent tonight.”
As she studied his face, her fear receded. “Do you want to abandon our plans?”
“God, no!” Even through her veil, she saw how appalled he looked. He sounded it, too. “But the decision remains yours.”
