Page 63 of The Dueling Duchess

It was surprising how much relief Guy felt at his friend’s words. Some part of him had felt guilty for not wanting to fight harder to hang on to the title, and it shamed him that he was actually relieved to no longer have those burdens on his shoulders.

“In any case,” Guy said, putting the issue of Barry behind him and moving toward a subject that was likely to rile his normally calm friend even more, “I’ve taken care of all I can over the past weeks. My mother is settled at the Dower House—comfortably, if not exactly happily. I’ve sold Darlington to a man who is already pouring money into the house itself as well as repairing the badly neglected tenant cottages; Claudia is betrothed to her farmer—in spite of my mother’s objections—and happier than I’ve seen her in years; and Diana is tickled to be allowed to spend all her days with her rocks, not to mention having exacted my promise that she won’t be forced into a Season if she doesn’t wish to be.”

Sin’s eyebrows rose. “How did your mother respond to that?”

“She was most . . . unhappy.”

That was an understatement; his mother had been livid, even going so far as to bring out the ever useful just what would your grandfather think of this cudgel and beat Guy over the head with it.

“But Diana’s joy and relief more than made up for my mother’s displeasure,” Guy assured him.

Guy didn’t tell the other men what Di had said to him after he’d assured her that she had a comfortable, if not wealthy, competence and her future was her own.

“I never wanted you to marry just so I could have frocks and go to stupid balls, Guy. Neither did Claudia. We couldn’t say anything to you because—well, you were so intent on saving us all. But you are our brother, and we want you to be happy the same way you want us to be happy. You wouldn’t be happy marrying some woman for her money, even though Helena seemed like a nice enough girl.”

His sister’s words had moved him more than he would have believed.

“Can you be happy, Guy?” she had asked. “I mean, without the dukedom and all that goes with it?”

“Of course, I’ll be happy,” he’d assured her, not wishing to talk about what he hoped for.

He hadn’t told anyone what he was going to do.

Quit dragging your heels; this news will not get less shocking the longer you wait.

He looked from Sin to Elliot. “I just came from Newcastle Street.”

Sin’s pale green eyes went wide. “You went to the Fayre? But . . . why? ”

Elliot just watched him, a strange, almost knowing expression on his face.

“Yes. I went there to ask for a job.”

Sin goggled. “You can’t be . . . you are serious, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t a question, but Guy nodded.

“Good Lord,” Sin whispered. “What happened?”

“She hired me.”

Sin sat back in his chair; his expression not dissimilar to that of a person watching a carriage collision.

Guy turned to Elliot. “Well?”

Even though he’d lived with Elliot for years, he could never read the man.

“I don’t blame you,” he said. “I’d go back to work there if I thought I could get away with it.”

Sin made a disbelieving noise.

Elliot turned to him. “What? You didn’t enjoy the time we spent with them?”

Sin opened his mouth . . . and then closed it, pressing his lips together.

“I thought so.” Elliot turned to Guy. “You can keep an eye on Josephine while you’re there.”

Guy laughed. “Ah, so that’s why you don’t have a problem with my decision.”