Page 54 of The Dueling Duchess

Blade’s smooth, pale brow furrowed. “That makes no sense. He’s free to marry you now—if you want him, you can have him.” She spun a knife in lazy circles around and around her hand. Blade could not be still for more than a minute before a knife materialized in her hand.

Cecile clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder if you are truly a woman.”

Blade snorted softly. “You’re not the only one.”

Cecile wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but she wanted to finish the point she was making first—if not for Blade, then for herself.

“Guy rejected and insulted me. I could never forgive him for choosing another.”

“Not even if he groveled?”

Cecile frowned. “Grovel? I don’t know that word.”

“It means that he would do things to try to show he was sorry—he would, er, abase himself to you.”

“Abase—yes, I know that word.” Cecile perked up at that; she wouldn’t mind some abasing where Guy was concerned.

She pondered the other woman’s suggestion for a moment before shaking her head.

“Now that I think about it, I’m not sure there is enough groveling in the world to make up for what he did.”

“But it would be amusing to watch him try, wouldn’t it?”

The women shared a grin.

But Cecile sighed and shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t be enough. I cannot forgive him.”

“Doesn’t it weigh with you that he only did what he did to save his family from ruin?”

“Of course, it matters! But it still makes no difference. Or, actually, it might even make it more tragic: He is being punished even though his motives were admirable.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Love makes no sense.”

“You love him?”

Cecile opened her mouth to deny the ridiculous claim, but then paused. Had she loved him? She didn’t think so. Not because he was unlovable—he was the most irresistible man she’d ever met—but because she’d been too wise to allow such a thing to happen.

But she had liked him far too much for comfort or sense.

“So, let me see if I understand you,” Blade said. “You’ll reject him because he once rejected you for honorable reasons.” A second knife had appeared, and Blade twirled them in opposite directions. It made Cecile’s eyes cross just to watch.

“No, I’ll reject him because he did not choose me. Not that I will have an opportunity to do any rejecting,” she pointed out.

Blade chuckled—true, it was closer to a quick snort—perhaps the first time Cecile had ever heard the other woman even come close to laughing. “You’re right,” she said dryly. “If that is female logic, then I’m not a woman.”

She palmed both knives and tucked them into the reinforced sheaths that were hidden in the pockets of her skirts. When her hands came away, the knives were gone.

“Doesn’t he ever hurt your shoulder?” Cecile asked, gesturing to Angus.

“Sometimes. But he’s worth it.” She stood and her bird woke from his brief nap. “In any case, I hope my visit has brought you some comfort.”

“Comfort,” Angus echoed, sounding so much like his mistress it was eerie.

“Yes, I am immeasurably comforted. By the way, I need to find somebody to replace Gerry—do you think your Nigel would agree to work with me until I can find a replacement?”

Nigel was one of the stagehands who earned handsome wages by agreeing to allow Blade to hurl knives at his head.