Page 156 of The Dueling Duchess

“I want you to come in there with me.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Are you—”

Cecile pulled him close and kissed him hard, not releasing him until she felt some of the tension leak out of his body. When she pulled away, he looked more like his normal self.

“I wasn’t keeping this from you on purpose, Guy. It was not a love match, I assure you. The old duke was dying in La Force Prison and my father brought me to him. I was fourteen and he was probably in his seventies. It was a marriage in name only, so that I would inherit his personal property—he feared the dukedom would not survive the Revolution. I had a copy of the wedding lines and his will, but everything was lost during the crossing. I didn’t tell anyone—it wasn’t just you. I just didn’t think anyone would believe me.”

“I would never think you a liar.”

“I know that . . . now.” She snorted softly. “I’m afraid it really did slip my mind given all the other excitement of the past few days. And before that”—she shrugged—“I haven’t thought about that part of my life in years.”

It was obvious he was brimming with questions, but he merely nodded.

“Come inside with me,” she begged.

Again he nodded and then opened the door.

Cecile strode into the book room with her head held high, her heart pounding so loudly she wondered if those around her could hear it.

Two men shot to their feet, one stick-thin and perhaps in his fifties, the other an astonishingly attractive man Cecile’s age.

“I understand you wish to speak to me.”

It was the older man who answered. “You are Manon Blanchet?”

“That is my name.”

The younger man took a step toward her, a curious but not unkind look on his face as he held out his hands. “We have been looking for you for some time, Your Grace.”

Cecile started at the unexpected form of address. “You may call me Miss Tremblay.”

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but instead said, “Do you have some time to talk with us?”

“Yes, of course. Please sit.”

The men looked at Guy and back at Cecile.

“Mr. Darlington may hear whatever it is you have to say. He is aware that I was married to the duke.”

The men exchanged yet another look, but then nodded.

Guy murmured, “Perhaps now would be a good time to ring for tea.”

* * *

“Now that matters in France are beginning to settle, people like your cousin”—Mr. Dumas gestured to the Duc de La Fontaine—“have started to petition His Majesty for the return of their family properties. That is a process fraught with numerous difficulties, not the least of which is the fact there is a new group of individuals claiming rights to many of those same estates.”

“You mean the people Bonaparte ennobled?” Cecile asked.

Dumas nodded. “I did not have the honor to know your deceased husband, Your Grace, but my firm has handled the affairs of the de La Fontaines for over one hundred years. Indeed, we were so intertwined with our clients that we, too, were driven into exile for almost a decade.”

Guy couldn’t help thinking the man sounded rather proud of that fact.

“The priest who conducted your wedding ceremony also went into hiding. I learned from his successor that he was killed only days after he performed your marriage, and the papers were never filed in the church until almost four years later, when the deceased priest’s family finally received his personal effects. The duke’s death was known to his cousin—er, the present duke’s father—who was living in Brussels, where he’d moved his family for their safety.” He turned to the duke and nodded.

“My father died before he could ever visit the family estate,” the duke said. “Indeed, I myself did not have a chance to go to Château de La Fontaine until late last year, after Bonaparte was finally routed.” He cocked his head at Cecile. “I understand you lived there when you were a child?”

“It was my only real home in France,” she admitted. “When the duke went to Paris, my father occasionally accompanied him, but for the most part we lived on the estate, where there was a small shop where my father and several other gunsmiths plied their craft.”