Page 110 of The Dueling Duchess

He felt something move at his side and turned to find that Blade had seemingly sprung from the wooden floor.

“What would you like?” he asked her.

“I’ll take the same as His Grace,” she said, smirking slightly as Cora laughed.

Cora went off to fetch their beer and Guy led Blade between tables crowded with both men and women, most of whom gave them friendly nods as they made their way to the corner of the room.

Guy waited until she sat to ask, “Where’s Angus?”

“I dropped him off at home after my act.”

“Er, does he mind being awake at night—aren’t his sort daytime dwellers? I thought most birds went to bed with the sunset?”

Guy realized he was babbling when he saw the faint smile on her lips.

Truth be told, Blade always made him a bit nervous. She rarely spoke and seemed to awe even his friend Elliot—who’d been the most private, self-sufficient, and cleverest person of Guy’s acquaintance before Blade.

The way she’d handled herself in France last year had been bloody intimidating. If there was anything the woman couldn’t do, he’d yet to find out what it was.

She fixed him with her strange, almost opaque, gaze and said, “Angus isn’t like most birds.”

Huh. Well, that much was true.

Guy cleared his throat and wisely changed the subject. “Did you meet the new governess?”

“You mean your ex-betrothed.”

Guy made a mortifying squawking sound. “Bloody hell!” He grimaced and muttered, “Sorry, please forgive my language. But how do you know that?”

Blade just shrugged.

“Here you are,” Cora said, setting down their two glasses.

“Ta, Cora,” Guy said, handing her the money.

Blade took a sip from her glass and then wiped the foam from her lip with the back of her hand in a way Guy found strangely charming. “Elliot said you wanted me to look into something in Cecile’s past.”

“That’s it?” Guy said, exasperated. “We’re done with the subject of Helena Carter? You’re not going to say anything more about one of the richest women in England coming to work for a circus?”

“She’s not really a rich woman if her father controls all the wealth.”

Guy hesitated, and then said, “Good point.”

“I’m not sure I want to pry into Cecile’s past,” Blade said.

Guy blinked at the change of subject. “And I respect you for that, Blade. But I’m not asking you to gather prurient or private details of her life.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you whether I can do it.”

“Fair enough.” He sighed, shoved his hand through his hair, not sure where to start. Well, he wanted to know about the guns, so that seemed as good a place as any.

“Her father’s name was Michel Blanchet. He was—”

“A gunsmith.”

“Ah, so you’ve heard of him?”

“Yes.”