Page 140 of The Dueling Duchess

Instead, she said, “Of course we can have a talk. Come up to my chambers.”

The moment they reached her sitting room Cecile tossed aside her reticule, toed off her slippers with a groan of pleasure, and flung herself onto her favorite chair. “Ah, that feels so good.”

When Guy didn’t respond she looked up.

He was staring at her with a look of savage hunger that restored her faith in his affection but made her worry even more about what he needed to tell her.

“I’ll pour us something to drink. Is whiskey good?” he asked her.

“You read my mind,” she said.

Once they both had glasses and were comfortably seated, Cecile said, “I’m listening.”

Guy turned the glass around and around in his hands, his expression more pensive than she’d ever seen it.

“There’s no other way to say it except I hired Blade to look into your past. Specifically, I wanted to know what happened that left you unable to pursue gunsmithing in England.”

It took her a long moment to grasp his meaning. It wasn’t as if the words themselves were difficult to understand, but they were utterly unexpected.

“But . . . why?” she finally asked.

“I just—well, something about your story didn’t sound right.”

“You thought I lied to you?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Of course, I didn’t. It is only that you seemed so angry both times you mentioned your cousin. Especially about the fact that you weren’t allowed to ply your trade in this country.” He shrugged. “I thought perhaps your cousin had taken advantage of you. After all, you were barely a child when you arrived, and not much older when you sold the rights to your designs to him. And then he stopped producing guns barely a year later. It just didn’t make—”

“No, not a year. He closed the company after almost ten years.”

Guy looked at her strangely. “No, Blanchard hasn’t made guns in ages—not since I was a schoolboy, at any rate.”

“You must be wrong,” she insisted. “He paid me my share of the profits for nine years—until he closed the shop.”

“He might have paid you for nine years, Cecile, but the money wasn’t connected to Blanchard’s or its profits.”

Cecile could only stare.

“But that’s not the important issue.”

She gave a scandalized snort. “It’s important to me.”

“Er, well, that’s just because I’m guessing you don’t know the whole story.”

“What whole story?”

He grimaced. “I’m getting all turned around with my explanation. I wanted to first tell you about—”

“Just tell me everything you know, Guy.”

* * *

Guy took a deep breath and said, “Let me start over and explain things the right way.”

“Please do.”

“The contract you signed gave Blanchard the rights to all your father’s designs as well as your own?”

“My father’s, yes. But I had nothing significant of my own. Just a few sketches and ideas.”