Page 111 of The Dueling Duchess

Guy waited for more and should have known better.

He continued. “When she came to England—which was about twenty-two years ago—she approached a cousin of hers, Curtis Blanchard. Apparently, he has managed to exclude her from making and selling her father’s designs. Or something to that effect.”

“So you want me to find out why that is?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“I feel that there is something not right about all this. I can’t help wondering if her cousin took advantage of her. The reason I wonder that is because the two times we spoke about the subject she seemed . . . angry.”

“Why don’t you just ask her?”

He sighed. “You know why.”

She stared at him and sipped her beer.

And stared.

And stared.

Guy was just about to squirm right out of his skin when she nodded. “I’ll look into it.”

“You will?” he said, more than a little surprised after all that staring.

“Yes. But I will only pass along information if I feel it wouldn’t offend Cecile.” She lowered her piercing, unnerving gaze for a moment. “She’s—well, she’s tried to be a friend to me, so I don’t want to repay her by hurting her.”

“I don’t want to hurt her, Jo. I love her.”

Her eyes slid slowly to his and widened. “Have you told her that?”

He snorted. “You think she would believe me?”

“You could try.”

“If I declared my love for her at this point—now that I’m homeless, jobless, and penniless—she’d think I was manipulating her.”

To Guy’s disappointment, Blade didn’t argue with him.

Instead, she said, “What do you think looking into this cousin will do?”

“If there was anything crooked on his part . . . well, I still have enough influence left in London to do something about that.”

“Very well. Is that all?”

“Actually, now that you ask, I’d also like you to look into my dearest cousin Barrymore.”

“What about him?”

“I don’t know—anything suspicious. Like him selling off family property, for example.”

Guy explained what he’d seen the other night—about the wagon full of furniture and paintings he’d watched rolling away from the duke’s London residence.

“Is that illegal? Doesn’t it all belong to him?” Blade asked when he’d finished.

“Not all of it—the land and house do not, I know that for sure. As to the contents of the house?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I went to see my family solicitor but now that I’m no longer head of the family, they didn’t have time for me.”

He shook the unpleasant memory away. “I’ve written them a letter and we shall see if I can get any response, that way. Of course, there might be nothing left to salvage by then.”