Page 35 of The Dueling Duchess

His lips twitched into a smile. “So I hear. Elliot told me it is possible to get some bread and cheese and a bottle of wine from one of the maids for a few sou. I will fetch us something when we return to the inn.”

She squinted up at him, her pulse pounding from either her recent brush with danger or at the sight of his too-perfect face. “Just food. Nothing else.”

He snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself, darling. I might not be the brightest star in the firmament but I’m smart enough to know when a woman isn’t interested in me. Come,” he said, holding out his arm. “Let me escort you back to the inn.”

When she hesitated, he smiled down at her and his lids drooped over his warm eyes, the expression robbing her of breath.

“You’ve got one bullet left, sweetheart—you can always shoot me if I don’t behave like a perfect gentleman.”

Cecile realized she was smiling before she knew what she was doing. She quickly schooled her face into a frown and ignored his arm. “Fine. I’ll go back with you, but only for dinner.”

“I give you my word that I shall restrain my baser instincts.”

Cecile didn’t bother explaining that it wasn’t his baser instincts she was worried about.

Chapter 7

Guy topped up Cecile’s wineglass and then nudged the platter toward her. “More cheese?”

She shook her head, her mouth too full to speak.

One of the housemaids had allowed them to eat in the empty dining room for considerably more than a few sous, but it was quiet and private and worth the money after what had been a hectic day.

Guy’s body was still humming from the confrontation in the alley. His heart had almost stopped when he’d seen that brute groping Cecile.

It had almost stopped again when she’d calmly shot the man.

He grinned at the memory. Lord. What a woman.

His stomach had been churning too savagely to be hungry, but he’d forced down some bread and cheese, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable about eating alone.

What he probably should have done was have the food sent up to the room she shared with Marianne and then gone to the room he shared with Elliot.

He should not be sitting at a candlelit table for two at one in the morning.

But the opportunity had been too appealing to pass up. Besides, surely a late supper couldn’t cause any trouble?

Cecile took a sip of wine before asking, “What do you think will happen?”

She didn’t need to explain what she meant.

“I don’t know what Bonaparte will end up doing,” Guy admitted. “But what I do think is that this tour will probably end early.”

“I heard Barnabas arguing with the theater manager this afternoon,” she said. “The man told him he might exercise some clause in the contract if hostilities commence.”

“Doubtless he means a force majeure clause.”

“Yes, that was the phrase.”

Guy racked his brains to recall what he knew of the legal term. “I think it means a contract can be broken if some catastrophic and uncontrollable event makes the performance of it impossible.” He snorted. “I suppose a war would qualify as both catastrophic and uncontrollable.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just didn’t expect you to know such a thing.”

“Why? Because I’ve only got fluff in my head?”