Page 157 of The Dueling Duchess

“I’m afraid you would find the château much changed; the years have not been kind to Fontaine.” The duke’s mouth tightened and his dark blue eyes sparked. “The property was passed around from faction to faction for at least ten years, a prize to be awarded and jerked away depending on the whims of whomever was in power. For the last eleven years it was held by the Comte d’Allard.”

“Wasn’t he one of Bonaparte’s generals?” Guy asked.

The duke cut him a quick look. “Indeed, he was. He was among a handful who were executed last year after the king returned to Paris.”

Ah, so the property was once again ownerless.

“My petition was recently approved,” the duke continued, “which means the house and some portion of the surrounding area have been returned to my family.” He turned to Dumas and gave a slight nod.

The older man cleared his throat. “Which brings me to your portion of the ducal estate, Your Grace.”

Cecile blinked. “My portion? But I would have thought all this passed to the heir since there is one?”

“Everything that went with the dukedom passed to the current holder of the title. But a great deal of the duke’s property was personal.”

“Please explain what this means to me?”

“The duke inherited the house and title. Everything else, including four estates—two in France, one in New Orleans, and one here in England—as well as numerous and substantial bank accounts in several nations, belongs to you, Your Grace.”

The room was utterly silent for a long moment.

It was the duke who spoke first. “You are probably wondering why I have accompanied Monsieur Dumas.”

Guy had a pretty fair notion why the man was there.

“I will not dress up my words.” He gave a charming laugh. “I think that is the phrase for plain speaking?”

Cecile, clearly rattled, merely nodded.

“Part of what you inherited was the land that has always supported the dukedom. Without it—well, suffice it to say that without it, Fontaine cannot prosper.”

Guy frowned. “That is unfortunate, but surely you don’t blame Miss Tremblay for her former husband’s disposal of his property.”

The duke gave him a look of annoyance, his sharp blue gaze flickering to Cecile.

“Please answer any of Mr. Darlington’s questions as if they came from me,” she said softly.

De La Fontaine’s lips twisted into a brief, sour expression, but he nodded. “No, not that she is to blame. However, there are legalities that must be observed for a marriage to be considered valid.”

“What are you saying?” Cecile asked.

The duke’s pale skin flushed, and he glanced at Monsieur Dumas. The older man looked less than eager to speak.

Guy cleared his throat and six eyes turned to him. “What he’s saying is that the family could challenge the marriage’s validity by insisting it is a white marriage, meaning the union has not been consummated.”

Cecile looked from Guy to the other men. “Is this what you will do?” She sounded curious rather than angry, which was what Guy was starting to feel.

“His Grace has made no decision as of yet,” Dumas said hastily.

“It is my understanding that you have never remarried,” the duke said.

Guy opened his mouth to demand what the hell business it was of his, but this time it was Cecile who beat him to it.

“I have not. But what has that to do with anything?”

“I am a widower with two daughters and no heir—”

“Bloody hell!” Guy got to his feet and took a step toward the other man.