Page 70 of The Dueling Duchess

The urchin ignored him and continued sorting through the rubbish.

“What the devil are you searching for?” he demanded.

The child glared up at him and spat one word: “Food.”

Guy felt like an idiot at her answer. He knew the streets were full of hungry children, but this was the first time he’d ever actually spoken to one. He’d always had servants to carry on such conversations for him in the past.

You are the servant, now, my dear Gaius, his mental voice noted, sounding disturbingly like Cecile.

He decided that he’d worry about that frightening new development later.

“There won’t be much in there,” Guy said rather lamely.

“I know.” The words dripped with disgust, as if Cecile’s business and household were criminally negligent because they didn’t waste food.

Guy sighed. He was tired, humiliated, and ready to have a few pints and then fall into his narrow, hard, pallet-like bed in his monastic cell of a room and forget what his life had been reduced to.

He shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a few coppers. “Here. Take this and buy yourself some food.”

The child’s head whipped up, and so did the dog’s, suspicion gleaming in both pairs of eyes.

“Look, you needn’t come near. I’ll toss it over there.” He motioned to the far wall and then gently threw the coins.

He’d not even finished the sentence before both the child and dog moved like a blur, the urchin quickly discovering the coins in the near darkness.

Guy got to work putting the bin upright and collecting the contents.

When a piece of rubbish that he’d not thrown landed in the bin, he turned to find the child helping.

“I’m not going to pay you again,” he warned.

“Didn’t ask you to, did I?” the feral-looking little beast snarled.

“Are you a boy or a girl?” Guy asked.

“What’re you?”

The sharp retort startled a bark of laughter out of him. “I’m a boy. Now, what about you?”

“Tisn’t any business of yours!”

Well, that was true enough.

Guy shrugged and turned back to his work.

There hadn’t been much in the bin to begin with, and none of it was especially disgusting, so the area was soon tidy. He’d find more bricks tomorrow to weigh down the bottom. But right now, he was knackered.

He pounded on the door and waited for somebody to open it and let him back inside.

Child and dog stood and watched him.

“You should get home—it’s past midnight.”

“Don’t have a home.”

The door opened and Richie poked his head out. “Oh, it’s you, Your Grace.”

Guy just rolled his eyes. “Just Guy is fine, Richie,” he reminded the lad for at least the dozenth time.