Page 7 of The Duke Says I Do
Granville tried not to hear the break in her voice. He shouldn’t care. She didn’t like him. She’d never liked him.
Despite everything, he did care. He felt like the lowest worm on the ladder of creation. All because he’d upset a woman he’d once have been glad to avoid for the rest of his days.
“Perhaps my butler won’t mind looking after Jupiter overnight,” he said reluctantly. Partly because Sheriff would mind. And Granville had been brought up to consider his staff’s feelings. The idea of introducing an untrained mongrel into the perfect clockwork of Dempster House was so unappealing, it verged on the impossible.
Portia looked doubtful, too. “Jupiter has bonded with you.”
Granville bit back an irritable growl. “Then he can unbond.”
“It’s not as simple as that. I suspect he’s had a hard life. I don’t want to upset him.”
This time, what Granville bit back was a sarcastic response. Upset Jupiter? What about upset caused to that esteemed personage, the Duke of Granville, whose ordered life disintegrated before his eyes?
“He’s a dog, not a spinster great-aunt with a nervous disposition,” he said with commendable mildness. “If I see he’s fed and out of the weather, what in Hades else does he need?”
“Love.”
Damn, that word again. He’d happily expunge it from the language. When he became prime minister – as was widely touted to happen before he turned forty in eight years – perhaps he’d draft the legislation. “The only offer I’m even considering for the animal is one night at my house, madam.”
“In your company?” The scale of his generosity left Portia less than overwhelmed, curse her. “He’ll fret with strangers.”
“I only met him an hour ago. I’m a stranger.” He could hardly believe that they discussed this flea-bitten beast as if he possessed all the delicacy of a duchess.
“Not in his eyes. You’re his knight in shining armor. You saved his life. You can’t abandon him to uncaring hands and people he doesn’t know.”
She was wrong about that. He could. Quite easily. If not for those big blue eyes watching him as if he could never let her down.
“This is a dreadful idea. I’ve never looked after a dog.” He hated the waver in his authoritative tone. Hated even more that Portia would without doubt hear it, too.
“It’s simple. Give him a bath. Feed him. Take him for a walk.”
Now that he would indeed transport this misbegotten wretch of a dog to the pristine halls of Dempster House, the prospect of bedlam ahead filled him with horror. “He mightn’t be house-trained.”
Portia glanced at Jupiter, who continued to listen as if he understood every word. “I’m sure he is.”
“No, you’re not. Youhopehe is. That’s not at all the same.”
“He’s clearly spent time in a household. He’s trained to the lead, and he knows how to sit quietly. If he’d never been in human company, he’d run off and we’d never catch him.”
Which right now seemed a preferable outcome. Although Granville didn’t dare to say that. “Perhaps my fatal charm is keeping him here.”
His wry remark made those spectacular eyes widen in surprise, and he recalled that she dismissed him as a dry stick, devoid of humor. It shouldn’t sting. After all, he’d decided that she was an ineffectual do-gooder. But among all today’s trials, perhaps the most astonishing was that Lady Portia Frain had developed the ability to affect his emotions.
“He might prefer men. Animals can express a preference for one sex or the other.”
Every hair on Granville’s skin rose as if he’d been struck by lightning. “Sex” wasn’t a word well-bred young ladies used. While she meant it in the most innocent way, the sound of that short syllable on those lush pink lips had him standing to attention.
His cheeks were hot – this time, he couldn’t even pretend that he wasn’t blushing. Battling for self-mastery, he bent over to collect Jupiter’s lead.
“We’ll have to consider that when we find him a home,” Granville muttered to the filthy cobbles, as he fumbled for the tatty rope.
He was in such a state that he only realized the quality of the silence had changed when he straightened. She surveyed him with a hint of uncertainty. That surprised him. Uncertainty wasn’t Lady Portia’s natural state. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure you’d take him.”
He frowned. “What the devil is wrong with you? Isn’t this what you’ve been angling for this whole time?”
She didn’t flinch under his impatience. He started to think that Portia Frain wouldn’t flinch facing a cavalry charge. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
“You can’t keep him.”
