Percy wouldn’t acknowledge his relief at the other man’s offer, though it was unnecessary. His connections in the Home Office would be of far more value. The reception, however, might prove tricky. “You mean to aid me in shirking my duties to the Crown? Youhaveturned into a revolutionary.”
Hamish grinned. “On the contrary. You’re a useless duke now, remember? Your duty lies with your land and tenants. Ledgers and accounts won’t see to themselves.”
Percy shook his head, the idea of active duty not sounding so bad after all. “Nic will have foreseen the argument and made contingency plans.”
“The man isn’t God, Percy. He may outdo us all in evil machinations and ridiculous hair, but he remains unequal in the face of our forces.”
“Since when can dukes outmaneuver anyone who can’t be bought or intimidated?”
“Since never.”
Percy rolled his eyes. “Markus and his merry band have proven they can’t catch a cold. You shouldn’t put your faith in them, either.”
“I don’t.” Hamish smiled. “Ido, however, know a group of women to whom Death Himself would beg for mercy.”
Percy grasped his meaning and his own mouth quirked to one side. Hope wasn’t dead yet. “No force like it on Earth,” he agreed.
Dukes may be no match for his former partner—who could read Percy’s actions like chapters in a book—but Nic Brandt stood no chance against the collective and unexpected force of duchesses.
“Think they’ll agree to intervene?” Percy said.
“Save us poor menfolk through cleverness and grit?” Hamish snorted. “I pity the man who tries to stop them. Make sure to grovel accordingly.”
The door opened and the Duchess of Camine entered as if she’d been waiting on the other side for this exact moment. Expression eager, she said, “We’ll do it.”
Percy gave Hamish a grin. “I didn’t even need to grovel.”
The humor faded quickly, spurned by the certainty that his greatest enemy still breathed. If Nic knew about his commission, then he’d know about his rise in pedigree. Striking now of all times, when Percy had just made his official appearance in society, he must’ve been watching him for some time, choosing this exact moment to reveal himself.
But why now?
Charlotte clapped her hands together, already preparing. “First we clear up this army matter, then we see to disposing of that miserable cur.”
Percy snorted. And women said men were bloodthirsty. “You could’ve warned me I was walking into a formal reinstatement.”
Charlotte skewered him with a sharp look. “If you had come when I’d asked weeks ago, I would have. I made it a point that the man must take his business here in front of witnesses sono mistakes would be made. I had no idea the man had official orders, only that he thought to impose on you.”
Ah. He bowed over her hand, his contrition sincere. “You are a goddess, and I am unworthy.”
She sniffed. “Apology accepted.” Obviously feeling a rare sense of empathy for him, she advised, “Make sure to discuss it with Daniella. Wives like to be informed when their idiotic husbands decide to do foolish things.”
Percy froze, something cold and unsettling churning in his stomach. Her words played inside his head. And again. He slowly released Charlotte’s hand. “I should inform my wife.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s what I said. I’m sure your duchess will have something to say about this whole business.”
“My wife.” The bans were posted, but the papers had been late due to the weather. Much of the country would just now be hearing about the nuptials of the Duke of Grandfellow to Lady Daniella Deime.
Hamish materialized at his side. “You’ve gone as white as a sheet. What is it?”
Percy felt his legs buckle. He half-sat, half-crouched on the edge of the divan, all his strength going to formulate a strategy.
Charlotte glanced at her husband. “Is he all right?”
Hamish shook his head.
“Is he faint? Shall I call for biscuits?”
“No biscuits,” Percy said. “No tea, no tarts, no cake. No food.” Not when his stomach was a somersaulting mess.
