Page 22 of The Duke Says I Do (Scoundrels of Mayfair #4)

With Jupiter back on his leash, Granville stepped onto the street outside Dempster House. Nobody seemed to be around, although that would soon change. He’d checked his pocket watch as soon as he had light to see. It wasn’t far off two.

He was about to whistle to let Portia know it was safe to come out of the trees when a growl from Jupiter warned him that he was no longer alone.

“What is it, boy?” he murmured.

He heard footsteps before he saw the hulking figure approaching. “What have we here? The noble thief himself, eh? And my dog.”

Despite a single meeting several weeks ago, Granville recognized the coarse voice straightaway. Jupiter kept growling, a low rumble of hostility, and he shifted closer to Granville’s side.

“Jim Jones,” Granville snarled. “What in Hades do you want?”

Nothing good, that was for sure. He was disgusted with himself for coming out unarmed. His sword stick was inside, as were his pistols. But then, he’d never imagined the brute having the gall to accost him in the middle of Mayfair.

“I want my dog back.”

“You were paid for your dog.” Granville raised his voice to make sure that Portia heard and stayed put. The idea of her encountering this bruiser when Granville had no way of defending her turned his blood to ice. He prayed that Jones had just appeared on the scene, and didn’t guess that Granville had company other than Jupiter.

“Not enough.”

He’d been paid more than a working man earned in a month.

“I’m not giving Jupiter back. He’s my dog now.” Granville was surprised at how strongly he felt about that.

“Well, my lord high and mighty, that would sound a hell of a lot more convincing if we weren’t standing out here in the dark, with nobody around to help you, and me with a pistol in my pocket.”

The bastard was right. Granville was a big, muscular man who regularly sparred at Gentleman Jackson’s salon, but Jones had a gun, even if one discounted that the sod was built like a mountain. In a hand-to-hand fight, he had no hope of prevailing. And he had Portia to worry about as well, damn it.

But be buggered if he meant to hand over Jupiter. Especially as Jones would put him straight into a dogfight. Granville wouldn’t tolerate the idea of his beloved pet being ripped to pieces, purely to make money for a bunch of yahoos.

But what the devil was he going to do?

He fell back on ducal authority. “If you dare to threaten me, I’ll have the law on you faster than you can say good morning. The judiciary take a dim view of criminals accosting their betters.”

They were just across the road from Dempster House and its streetlamps. Granville wished to Jericho that he couldn’t see Jones’s expression. The warning left the man remarkably unmoved. “That’s as may be, Your Grace.”

Jones knew exactly who Granville was. Of course he must. He wasn’t in Lorimer Square by chance. Granville’s image regularly appeared in the illustrated papers. It wouldn’t be hard to track him down if someone took the trouble. Jones had taken the trouble. “Your best choice is to sink back into the mire you sprang from.”

“Fine words from a man with nothing but his own superiority to save him.”

“Just a friendly piece of advice. You can’t hope to escape punishment if you assault me and steal my dog.”

Jupiter kept up his growling, but he trembled against Granville’s leg. Granville tightened his hold on the leash. Jupiter was a breath away from springing at Jones, and he was terrified that the man would shoot.

Giving your heart away was hellish. Right now, the idea of anything happening to either Portia or Jupiter flooded his mouth with sour bile.

“I don’t see why not. Now much as I enjoy hobnobbing with my betters…” The contempt dripping from the word conveyed his view of Granville’s rank. “…it’s past my bedtime. Hand over the dog and nobody gets hurt.”

“I’m not giving you my dog.”

Jones dug in the pocket of his voluminous leather coat and produced a horse pistol. However frail the hope, Granville had wondered if the man lied about being armed. “I’ll happily kill you, Your Grace. I can disappear into the shadows faster than a rat shoots up a drainpipe.”

“If you shoot that thing, the square will fill before you can snap your fingers.” Granville kept his voice steady.

Right now, while he was undoubtedly afraid for himself, he feared Portia’s reckless courage most of all. She wouldn’t stand by if things turned ugly. He credited her good sense in staying hidden until now, but he couldn’t rely on that discretion continuing.

If Portia intervened, they’d have a full-scale disaster on their hands. Jones was smart enough to know that given a choice between Jupiter’s life or Portia’s, Granville would have to sacrifice the dog. When he didn’t want to lose either of them, damn it.

“Yes, well, you won’t care. You’ll be dead.” When he stepped closer, Jupiter snarled and strained against the leash.

Granville struggled to hold him back. “Don’t be a fool, man.”

“That dog is going to earn me a fortune. I’m not giving him up.”

“He deserves better than you.”

“Maybe so. But that don’t make no difference.” Jones held out his hand. “Give him over, chum. Or take the consequences.”

The door at the top of the steps at Dempster House slammed open. “I don’t think so,” Sheriff said, pointing a gun at Jones from where he stood in the doorway. “Put your weapon down.”

When Jones jerked around in shock, Granville saw his chance. He released Jupiter, who lunged. Granville lurched forward to grab the gun.

“Fucking ‘ell!” Jones staggered back, his finger tightening on the trigger. There was a deafening bang, but luckily Granville had twisted his arm. The bullet discharged skyward.

Sheriff dashed down to the pavement. Jupiter gave a sharp bark and bit the back of Jones’s knee. Jones swore and kicked at the same time, as he tried to fight Granville and the dog off.

Granville wrestled the now-useless gun away, while Matty and Phipps ran up from the kitchens to grab Jones. The man struggled, although he must know that he’d lost.

“Matty, get the nightwatchman,” Granville panted. He’d been scared, he wasn’t too proud to admit. And furious that just as his life turned in the right direction, he came close to losing it.

“Aye, Your Grace.” The lad took to his heels. Phipps picked up Jupiter’s leash and with difficulty pulled the dog back from Jones.

Around them, lights went on in houses, doors opened, and windows slid up with a volley of crashes. Dear God, Granville hoped that nobody decided to wander through the center of the square. He needed someone to find Portia and get her away before anyone noticed her presence.

As if conjured up by Granville’s worry, Hobbs appeared at his elbow. “Shall I see Lady Portia gets home without attracting attention, Your Grace?”

Shocked, Granville surveyed his valet. “How did you…”

The man rarely smiled, so the faint lift of his lips counted as much as a triumphant grin from another man. “When England’s tidiest nobleman leaves his apartments in chaos and that chaos includes female clothing, I could tell something was up.”

“The devil with it, man. We’ve tried so hard to be discreet.” He wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or embarrassed or annoyed. Probably a mixture of all three.

“A man has few secrets from his valet,” Hobbs said with a hint of smugness.

People flooded into the street. At this hour, they sported evening clothes and day wear and robes flung over night attire. A few older residents wore nightcaps on their heads, like aged Wee Willie Winkies. As the crowd swelled, buzzing with questions, Jones stood defeated between Phipps and Sheriff.

A smile of his own stretched Granville’s lips. “You may be the first to wish me happy, Hobbs. Lady Portia and I are to be married today.”

Hobbs’s smile widened. “I’m delighted, sir. I wish you and her ladyship every joy.”

“Thank you.”

Now the danger had passed, Granville crouched to give Jupiter some attention. “Good boy. Good boy.”

Jupiter’s tail wagged, and he jumped up to lick Granville’s face. He was as pleased to stay with his new master as his new master was to keep him.

A couple of brawny footmen emerged from Dempster House to take charge of Jones. Granville looked up at Sheriff from where he patted his dog. “How the deuce did you know to come out?”

“I was with Matty when he walked Jupiter the last few nights. We noticed that rogue hanging around where he shouldn’t be. But we were much earlier than this and I suspect there were too many people around for him to chance his arm. Tonight, after you stayed out so long, I came up to wait in the hall, in case there was trouble.”

With gratitude jamming Granville’s throat, his voice emerged as a gruff rumble. “I owe my life to you. The sod was out to kill me. He’d certainly have killed Jupiter. Thank you.”

Phipps’s smile as he bowed expressed sincere affection and respect. “It’s always an honor to serve you, sir.”

The nightwatchman staggered into view. When he came closer, Granville caught a strong whiff of spirits. That at least explained how Jones had infiltrated the square. The man performed an unsteady bow, punctuated by a loud hiccup. “Your Grace, what goings-on. What a fuss.”

“We’ll get this scurvy fellow in front of the courts, sir,” Sheriff said, ignoring the drunk. “Phipps and I will take the brute who accosted you in to Bow Street now and lay charges. We’ve seen enough to make sure that this ruffian causes no more trouble.”

Jones had threatened a peer of the realm, a duke no less. He’d be lucky to escape a hanging. At best, transport to the horrors of Botany Bay on the other side of the world awaited.

The ruffian clearly reached the same conclusion and didn’t much like it. “No harm was done.” His arrogant air was less convincing than it had been when he’d pointed a pistol at Granville.

“No thanks to you,” Sheriff said.

“And no thanks to you,” Phipps said to the nightwatchman with audible disgust.

A carriage rolled past, followed by another, signal that London’s entertainments finally ended for the evening. Soon the square would be bustling with traffic.

Granville didn’t want to get involved in a hundred recountings of the night’s events to people arriving home and agog to hear the news. He was getting married in a few hours. He’d rather think about that than the last half hour’s tribulations.

He picked up Jupiter’s lead. “I’ll leave everything in your capable hands, Sheriff.”

When he glanced across the crowd, he saw Hobbs on the fringes of the gathering. His valet’s nod told him that Portia was safely back at home.

His mind already shifting to the joys awaiting in the morning, Granville climbed the steps, Jupiter at his side.