Page 57 of The Dueling Duchess

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

His smile widened, the dimples in his cheeks sending twin flares of desire and annoyance through her body. “I’ve come to apply for the position.”

“Very droll. What do you want, Mr. Darlington?”

“Ah, you’ve heard of my recent, er, demotion, then?”

“I should think all of Britain knows your business.”

“Good, then you should know I am no longer a man of leisure. I require a job.”

Cecile enjoyed a hearty belly laugh at that. And then she saw he was serious.

“Have your wits gone begging?”

“Not at all. You are hiring and I need a position.”

She scowled at the slight emphasis he put on the word, even as her body responded in ways she couldn’t control. Which only served to madden her even more.

“You can seek your position somewhere else, Mr. Darlington. This is a female circus, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve been part of your act and Blade’s in the past. Both of you employ male assistants because it’s far better for ticket sales if you shoot at men.”

He was right. It often increased the comedic factor in both their acts if a man was the one being shot at or dodging knives.

Cecile crossed her arms. “What are you really doing here, Guy?”

His smile slid away, leaving an uncharacteristically grim expression on his face. “I need help, Cecile.” He raised his hands when she opened her mouth. “No. I don’t want money or charity—I’m willing to work. I need to work—just for five-and-a-half months.”

“What happens in five-and-a-half months?” Cecile asked.

Guy thought it was a good sign that she was asking questions rather than summoning burly stagehands to throw him out in the street.

“The only property that is still in my name will come out from under lease and I will have somewhere to live.”

“I thought you sold Darlington Park.”

Guy couldn’t help laughing—both at her comment and the bright flush that colored her cheeks. “Still reading those parts of the newspaper, I see.”

Her mouth tightened.

“Yes, I sold Darlington Park. I’m talking about another property. This one is in Massachusetts.”

Cecile stared at him as though he’d just said or done something foul and unpleasant.

“Lord, why do you look so horrified? It just America, not the moon.”

“America, yes,” she said, her voice strangely faint. “So, you are going to Massachusetts. Boston?”

Her question surprised him for some reason. “Er, no. The property is in the western half of the colony, er, I mean state.”

“But there is nothing in the western half of the state.”

“You sound almost as if you are speaking from exp—”

“I lived there—in Boston.”

It was Guy’s turn to gawk. “You lived in America?”