Page 109 of The Dueling Duchess

Three female heads turned to him when he reached the bottom step.

“Ah, there you are, Guy. This is my new assistant and Cat’s new governess, Miss Keeble,” Cecile said.

Guy merely stared at the newcomer, his jaw hanging open.

“Hello,” the woman said, her eyes wide and pleading as she took a few steps toward him and thrust out her hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Miss Keeble.”

Guy took the proffered hand and bowed over it, his body so trained to courtesy that it could carry on without any assistance from his brain—which, in this case—was spinning.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, her gaze becoming a bit frantic.

Guy nodded, still clinging to her gloved hand.

“His name is Guy Darlington,” Cecile finally interjected in an exasperated tone when all Guy could do was stare at his former betrothed.

“Mr. Darlington,” Helena Carter repeated, her eyes imploring him to keep her identity a secret.

“Miss Keeble,” he mumbled, taking in her hair—which had once been blond and very long and was now a dark chestnut shade and almost as short as his. She also wore spectacles—who knew, perhaps she always had?—which he’d never seen before.

“Is Miss Keeble’s room ready, Guy?” Cecile urged when it became clear he had nothing else to say.

“Er, Susan is just giving it a few final touches. I should think it will be ready in a little while.”

“You can take the trunk up, and Miss Keeble will come with me to the kitchen and have some tea.”

Guy watched them walk down the narrow corridor beside the stairs, which led to the kitchen.

Just before Helena disappeared around the corner, she turned back to him and mouthed thank you.

Guy just stood staring, unable to gather his wits.

* * *

As things turned out, Guy got to the Greedy Vicar a little later than he’d wanted thanks to Beryl, who’d summoned him to the theater to see to a rodent scare.

Fortunately, it wasn’t a rat, but a cat that had somehow sneaked into the dressing room and then burrowed beneath the ever-accumulating pile of detritus on the settee.

Guy had brought the cat to Cook, who’d just mentioned a few days earlier that she wanted a new mouser now that the old kitchen cat had gone on to its reward.

How George and the new cat were going to cohabitate was a mystery to Guy, but it wasn’t his concern, so he gratefully left the matter with Cook and hurried to meet Blade.

“Good evening, Your Grace.”

Guy turned at the sound of the feminine purr and smiled down at the barmaid. “Hello, Cora. How are you this evening?”

“Better now that you’re here, Your Grace.”

He chuckled, accustomed to her flirtatious manner, which she assumed with all the men who entered her domain.

“Now, Cora, you know that I’m a mere commoner now.”

“You’re not a mere anything and you couldn’t be common if you tried.”

He lifted her work-worn hand and gave the back of it a smacking kiss. “Thank you, darling.”

“Cook’s gone home but I could bring you some bread, cheese, and a bit of cold ham?”

“Just a pint of home brew, please.”