Page 34 of The Duke Says I Do
“That stinker Jim Jones?” Rankin asked in astonishment.
“No, His Grace, the Duke of Granville.”
Rankin only now seemed to realize that Portia wasn’t alone. He straightened and bowed. “Your Grace.” The formality in his voice contrasted with his ease with Portia.
“Has Papa been on the rampage?”
“His lordship hasn’t returned from his club, my lady.”
“That’s a relief. I should manage to get inside without running into him.”
“You usually do, madam.”
Granville could believe it. He noticed that Rankin made no comment on Portia’s clothing. He didn’t even seem particularly surprised. Her allies in the household must be inured to antics that would make her a social outcast if they became public.
She turned to him. “You’d better go before Jupiter gets any louder.”
Granville gave her a brief bow, the formality striking him as absurd, given that he’d kissed her to the stars and back. “Your servant, my lady.”
“Good night, Your Grace.” She still hadn’t called him Alaric. That was something they needed to sort out tomorrow. “Thank you for taking Jupiter. And for…everything else.”
By Jericho, he cursed the coachman’s presence. He wanted to talk to her about the day’s adventures. He wanted to kiss her again. Devil take it, he just wanted her.
But it was past time that she was back in her own home and more than past time that he took control of Jupiter. The dog’s uproar provided an earsplitting counterpoint to their conversation.
“My lady?” Rankin said, when Portia seemed as reluctant to go as Granville. He saw her give a small start, then without a backward look, she and the coachman disappeared into the shadowy gardens.
Granville shouldn’t feel bereft. He’d see her tomorrow. But the minute she left his presence, her absence became an ache.
Jupiter didn’t care about his humans’ romantic entanglements. Granville had to get back before every servant in his employ walked out in protest. So far, his staff had taken Jupiter’s arrival in reasonably good spirit. He wanted that to continue.
Because despite his original refusal, his definite reluctance, and his complete lack of qualifications to take custody of a living creature, Portia’s wishes had prevailed. For the first time in his life, the Duke of Granville had a dog.
When he reached the stables, Jupiter immediately stopped howling and broke free from Matty to rush over and jump up at him. The situation should infuriate him. It didn’t. The faint smilethat he’d worn on his short walk home broke into a full grin. Nobody had been this pleased to see him since…since forever. And that included his two fiancées.
“Come back, Jupiter!” Matty lunged after him to catch the trailing lead.
“Down!” Granville said.
Yet again, the voice of authority performed its magic. Jupiter subsided onto his haunches, those clever eyes fixed on Granville’s face.
“He got away from me, Your Grace,” Matty said in a subdued voice, looking terrified that he’d be blamed for this chaos.
Granville could only blame one person for his current circumstances. Given that he still wanted to kiss her, he wasn’t feeling too resentful.
Sheriff was nowhere to be seen. Phipps sat beneath a window, smoking a pipe. “He started carrying on as soon as you left, sir.”
When Granville gave Jupiter a scratch behind the ears, the dog closed his eyes in ecstasy. “So I heard.” He glanced across at the half-full dish of meat. “He didn’t finish his dinner?”
“He will, now you’re back, Your Grace.” Matty sounded more at ease. He must have realized that Granville wasn’t angry.
Granville crossed to pick up the dish and set it before Jupiter. “Go on, boy.”
Stubby tail wagging, the dog set to his meal. Granville looked at Matty. “He needs to get used to you. I can’t take him everywhere I go. We can start training him tomorrow. Lady Portia will help, I’m sure. I’ll take him up with me tonight.”
“That’s wise, Your Grace, or nobody in Mayfair will get a wink of sleep,” Phipps said.
“Are the grooms back from the King’s Head?”
