Page 100 of The Dueling Duchess

Cecile turned away from the door and took several deep breaths, her anger threatening to get the better of her again—as it had outside with Guy.

Bloody Nathan! Just who did he think he was to be giving ultimatums?

She whipped out a sheet of paper and dashed out a response, one that was both short and to the point. She had thought to spare his feelings on the matter of the marriage proposal, but as he had no thought to spare hers, she would end their liaison immediately.

* * *

Guy was repairing a section of pinrail—which Basil the carpenter had painstakingly showed him how to fix—and brooding about Cecile and her angry reaction that morning.

He was no longer surprised when she lashed out at him, and much of the time he had to agree that he deserved it. But this morning? What had driven her into such a rage?

“Guy!”

He looked up from his work and grinned as Cat came flying toward him, screeching to a stop almost on the toes of his boots. George was dancing around her, just as excited as his mistress.

“Hello, Kitty-Cat,” he teased, tying off the new line.

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

“I told you I was taking Ce—Miss Tremblay to look at the school today.”

Her expression told him just what she thought about that.

“You needn’t look so mulish—she’s decided it’s better to engage a governess for you.” Guy gave her a moment to absorb that news as he held out his hand to the small terrier mutt. Clearly the jury was still out when it came to Guy, but George unbent enough to allow Guy to give him a quick scratch behind the ears.

“Well, what say you?” he asked when Cat remained uncharacteristically quiet.

She shrugged, her face long. “I like spending the day with Cook and Nancy in the kitchen.”

Nancy was Cook’s daughter, who at eleven was a few years older than Cat, but—thankfully—the two girls got on very well.

“Yes, well, the kitchen is a good place to learn, er, housewifery skills, my girl, but there are many other things you must learn.”

“You mean bookish things?”

“Just so.”

“Why can’t you and Cecile teach me bookish things? Why do we need somebody else?”

Guy dropped to his haunches, met her eye to eye, and set his hands on her fragile shoulders. “We have to work, darling. And you need somebody who knows all the things you’ve been missing out on. I’m afraid if you relied on me to teach you maths, you’d end up using your fingers and toes to count.”

She scoffed and giggled. “You’re so silly.”

“I am.” He brushed a stray curl from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. “You’ll see us plenty—we live together.” Although he wasn’t sure how long he’d be staying if Whitfield came into the house again. Cat could always visit him in Newgate after he throttled the man and was sentenced to hang.

“Chances are that you shall be good friends with your new governess,” Guy continued. “My younger sisters had a governess they simply adored, and Diana cried when she left.”

Of course, his older sisters had been terrorized by an old crone who’d smacked their knuckles with a ruler and tied a board to their backs for posture correction. Still, no point in mentioning that . . .

She nodded, but he could see she wasn’t convinced.

Guy held out his hand. “Come on—you can help me in the dressing room. Let’s see if we can find the settee rumored to be beneath that mountain of clothing.” It wasn’t the settee Cecile was worried about so much as costumes lost in the huge pile of garments the staff tended to fling into the dressing room.

Cat skipped alongside him. “Can I put on some face paint?”

“Er, that’s probably not a good idea.”

“Why not?”