Page 121 of The Dueling Duchess

Guy’s head was spinning. “But I don’t understand. Why would—” He gave a sharp, unamused laugh. “He thinks to use an action in common recovery to break the entail.”

It wasn’t a question, but Blade nodded.

“The heir needs to be of age before he can legally agree,” Guy said. “But who will object if he isn’t?” he asked, more of himself.

“Indeed,” Blade said.

Guy shook himself. “How did you find out about the boy?”

“Norton’s wife is very unhappy that the boy’s father—they are not husband and wife, by the way—has taken the boy and put him under your cousin’s care. There have been . . . arguments. Loud ones that more than a few of your cousin’s servants have overheard.”

“Zeus! You really are quite amazing,” Guy said, his mind spinning at what he’d just heard. “I’ll need to get in touch with some other members of my family and let them know that Barry is up to something. Maybe they can take action since the solicitors don’t seem inclined to pay any heed to me,” he added, more to himself.

Blade scratched her bird, clearly uninterested in what he was saying.

“I want to pay you for—”

“I don’t want your money,” Blade said.

“Er, why not?”

“I’d rather have you owe me.”

“You want me to owe you money?”

She made an exasperated sound. “No. You can owe me a favor.”

This sounded . . . ominous, and Guy envisioned her dragooning him to go on her next housebreaking adventure. “What sort of favor? ”

“Whatever I want.”

Guy stared.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be monetary or sexual.”

He barked a startled laugh and heat surged up his neck. Good God! She’d made him blush.

Blade smirked, turned, and without so much as a farewell, strode out of the alley.

Chapter 20

“You shouldn’t come here,” Cecile said, happiness and concern warring in her chest as she looked at her dearest friend.

“What is the point of being a duchess if I can’t visit the people I like?” Marianne asked, shifting on the uncomfortable chair. They were in the office at the theater, where Cecile had been working when Marianne knocked on the door.

Her friend looked so out of place in her gorgeous carriage costume that it was as if a tropical bird had just flown into the room.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go next door and have some tea?” Cecile asked.

“No, no, this is fine. I can’t stay long. I have a rather grueling evening planned. Or, should I say, Sin’s aunt Julia has planned a grueling evening for me.”

“How is your baptism into the ton?” Cecile asked, struggling with the envy she felt at her friend’s opportunities to meet the haut ton. It just wasn’t fair; especially since Marianne didn’t want to engage in the pleasures the Season had to offer, while Cecile would have loved it.

“It is going as well as can be expected,” Marianne said with a slight grimace. “I’m thrilled we had such a small wedding, even if it only delayed my entrée into the ton.” Her expression softened. “Both Lady Julia and Sin have been lovely, and thank heavens, my presentation is behind me.”

“I still want to see your gown and hear all about your meeting with the Queen,” Cecile reminded her.

Marianne smiled. “Gladly. I can’t have tea this coming Tuesday, but shall we meet the next?”