Page 6 of The Duke Says I Do
“Well, I don’t love him,” he said shortly. It was high time he took control of a situation that threatened to break out of control. “He’s going home with you.”
Portia looked shifty. He wished to heaven that the expression didn’t make him want to kiss her. It didn’t seem to matter what she did today, he wanted to kiss her.
“Papa has threatened to get rid of all my animals if I bring back even so much as a canary.”
Granville steeled himself, as a pair of limpid blue eyes changed from shifty to pleading. “Then you’ll have to make other arrangements.”
“Are you afraid he won’t get along with your other dogs?”
His lips tightened. “I don’t have any dogs.”
Portia looked astonished. He couldn’t blame her. The English aristocrat and his faithful hound were as much a symbol of the national character as John Bull and his shallow-crowned hat.
Along with astonishment, there was a hint of sympathy. After his failed attempt to wed Juliet, he’d become accustomed to people’s pity. Pity that despite his wealth and prestige, he’d been judged second-best. Even worse, second-best a second time. In his youth, an engagement had ended because the bride had run away with the same sod who ended up marrying Juliet.
He’d loathed the sympathy then. He loathed it even more now. It made his skin crawl. Especially when it came from a blasted Frain.
He waited for Portia to say something crass, but while he might deride her as a nitwitted flibbertigibbet, she was smart enough not to remark on his loneliness.
Instead, that pretty jaw adopted a surprisingly daunting line and she focused a direct glare on him. “Then you’ve got room for Jupiter.”
“I don’t have the first idea how to go on with a pet.”
The determined expression didn’t ease. “You can learn.”
His lips tightened. This inconvenient attraction almost made him forget how annoying she was. Lucky for him, she kept reminding him.
He put on the voice that had discouraged encroachments since he was at Eton. “My dear young woman, I have a country to run. The fate of one ill-bred canine hardly counts in comparison.”
As he should have realized, the ducal tone didn’t discourage Lady Portia. Her shoulders squared, and she stepped closer. Without budging from Granville’s booted feet, Jupiter turned his head to watch her. “Of course it does. If a great country can’t ensure safety for women and children and animals, it’s not a great country at all.”
Granville gaped at her. “That smacks of treason.”
She shrugged. “It’s the truth. Are you going to abandon Jupiter to his fate? I’ve followed your political career. I can’t imagine the man who spoke so movingly about little children working in coal mines could be so heartless.”
“Don’t you dare try to shame me into doing what you want.” His tone made Jupiter whine again. “It won’t work.”
“No, I can see that.” He hid a flinch as disappointment flooded those beautiful eyes. “Even taking him for one night is too much to ask. Just to give me time to try and find him a home.”
Granville should feel relieved. At last, she talked sense. He’d disappointed so many people in his life, no matter how hard he tried to do the right thing. His grandparents. His fiancées. Others too numerous to list. It shouldn’t matter that Lady Portia was just one more.
Somehow it did.
“So you’ll take him then?” he asked hopefully.
She shook her head. “I can’t. Papa is stubborn, as you know. We’ll have to let Jupiter go.”
The dog’s gaze fixed on Granville. Even the bloody hound thought he behaved like a cad, dash it. “Jim or Alf might find him.”
Portia avoided his eyes but not before he caught a shimmer of what might be tears.
Great, Granville. Bravo. Three cheers for you. You’ve made the girl cry. They should give you a medal.
“He might be lucky.”
Granville knew that Jupiter had no idea what the conversation was about. So that couldn’t be reproach in the intelligent dark eyes. “You must have someone else you can ask to help.”
“Everyone else I can ask has already taken in their share of mistreated animals. It’s a huge problem in London.”
