“I was just letting Snifferson know that I would remind you that you promised him a treat.” Both dogs stared at him in disappointment then, and he didn’t blame them. If he could find some excuse to dash away so that he could flagellate himself for all his improper thoughts,he would. But he knew that if he tried to escape, she would come to assist him and that wouldn’t help the twitch in his breeches one bit.
“I did, didn’t I?” She handed him the wrapped ice and turned to the dogs. “What a naughty Portia I am.”
The absolute last thing Leo needed to hear were the words “naughty” and “Portia” in the same sentence because both gave him ideas, so he gritted his teeth and focused on placing the icy bundle on his ankle rather than watch her caress Barkington’s ears.
All the while silently wishing she was caressing his instead.
The world had clearly gone quite mad as Portia was making toast for a duke and—this really flummoxed her—she had offered to.
She wanted to blame that solely on how unsettled his question about her mother’s imaginary neighbor escorting her back had made her because she didn’t want to keep lying to him. She preferred never to outright lie to anyone—which was why she was still avoiding her mother like the plague—so that wasn’t unique to the duke. But after the way he had selflessly saved her yesterday, she felt bad about all the necessary fibs she had to tell.
The duke was, she realized now, not quite the archetypal aristocratic villain that she had been keen to paint him. Despite his galling title and his overbearingness, he actually seemed to be quite a decent man.
He was an affable, reasonable sort who was trying to do his best under the most challenging of circumstances. Two weeks into her employment and she realized that he was not one of the idle rich because he had neither the time nor the patience for their usual pursuits. Instead, he worked hard managing his estates and fulfilling his duties as a magistrate while being the best brother that he could be.
It could not be easy to juggle all that he did with the added responsibilities of two rebellious sisters, who she now knew firsthand were quite the challenge. So yes, he was a bit of a controlling tyrant where they were concerned, but it wasn’t entirely without cause.
She lifted the hot toasting forks from the edge of the fire and deposited the two steaming slices on a plate that she set before him. They were lopsided and not pretty, but they did at least smell divine. “Here you are, your grace.” As she had already put the butter dish and a pot of strawberry jam on the table, she offered him another surprisingly genuine smile. “Don’t stay up too late.” Then she spun on her heel, ready to escape.
“You’re not having any?” Of all the things she expected him to say, that wasn’t it.
“Well… I…”
He picked up one of the slices. “Only thanks to your rather cavalier way with the bread knife, these are two gargantuan pieces of toast, Miss Kendall.” Then he smiled but there was a vulnerability in his expression that tugged at her heart. “And I cannot deny that I would appreciate the company after being imprisoned in my bed and forced to stare at the same four walls all day.” Then his dimples worked their usual magic as he grinned. “Besides, as I have been starved all day too, despite the ridiculous thickness of these slices, I still might need you to make a second round. We don’t want me wasting away now, do we?”
As there seemed no way of getting out of that without appearing churlish, she sat in the chair opposite him and tried not to wonder what sort of a state her hair was in after her brisk walk home across the city all the way from the newspaper in the dark.
The duke spread a generous layer of butter on a slice and passed it to her before he set about buttering the other for himself, apparently oblivious to the fact that men of his station did not generally prepare or share their food with someone of hers. “I suppose I need to ask you if you would be kind enough to cancel all my social engagements for the next few days?” He tried and failed to look disappointed at that prospect. “Which obviously devastates me.” He covered the threatening grin with a huge bite of his toast.
“That is already done.”
“That was very proactive of you, Miss Kendall, but thank you.”
“It was your sister’s idea actually.” She pulled a tiny corner of her crust off for appearance’s sake. Not because she didn’t want to eat the toast—quite the contrary as she was hungry too—but because good manners dictated that she eat it like a lady. He was a duke after all and, uncharacteristically, she was self-conscious about eating in front of one despite the informality of the setting. “Lady Abigail told me to cancel everything until Friday straight after the physician left yesterday.”
“Did she?” He seemed surprised by that as he chewed thoughtfully. “I wonder how long this armistice will last?”
“Just enjoy it while it does.” Portia popped the tiny crumb into her mouth, and he paused chewing to stare at her, incredulous.
“Oh please don’t tell me that you are one of those women who pretends to eat like a bird? Because such restraint really doesn’t suit you, Miss Kendall. You’ve always struck me as a grab-the-bull-by-the-horns, I-do-not-care-what-anybody-else-thinks sort and if I can sit here proudly with butter all over my chin, so can you.” He took another huge bite, his blue eyes lit with challenge. “Or does my lofty title intimidate you so much that you are suddenly rendered meek?”
Could he read her like a book? “Nothing intimidates me, your grace, and especially not your title.” And to prove that, she stared him dead in the eye as she lifted the whole slice to her mouth and took a hearty crunch out of it.
“There she is! That is the Miss Kendall I employed.”
“I’ve often wondered why you did employ me. Especially when I cannot believe that I was as experienced as the other candidates.”
“You weren’t—but you came across as fearless and that clinched it. My sisters need fearless. They also need a chaperone who is wily, tenacious, determined, unflappable, unbelievably stubborn, and annoyingly clever.”
Portia felt a blush infuse her cheeks at him quoting back her own arrogant words but made no effort to hide it. “Oh please don’t remind me of all that I said in that interview as it was not my finest hour.”
He had such a lovely smile. The sort that utterly charmed. “Whyever not? You were magnificent in that interview. Unconventional, yes. Overconfident—perhaps a tad.” He held his thumb and index finger an inch apart. “Borderline rude too—most definitely. But still impressive.” His deep chuckle drizzled over her like the melted butter on her toast. “I’ve honestly never seen anything like it.”
“Any other duke would have thrown me out for my impertinence.”
“I like to think that I am not like any other duke—but I know that I am merely flattering myself on that score. Unfortunately, I am simply a replica of my father in every way possible. Everybody says so,” he said, swiping crumbs from his lips. “We even have the same sized feet and identical dimples.” He smiled broadly just so that he could poke his finger in one.
“Really?”
