Page 2 of The Dueling Duchess

Her father reached a shaking hand into the pocket of his ragged coat. He had to dig deep before he located a coin. “This is the last of what I have,” he said as he handed it over.

The guard grunted, clearly displeased by the small denomination. “What about her?”

“She is simple. I give her no money.”

The guard gave a grunt of disgust. “Well, come on—a quarter of an hour is all you have.”

Her father grabbed her shoulder and Cecile shuffled beside him.

They walked past several rooms where dozens of prisoners were all shoved together. People called out to them, begging for food, asking them to bear messages, the voices quickly drowning each other out.

They tried to walk faster, to escape the din, but the man escorting them seemed deaf to the agony around him and moved at the pace of a snail.

Cecile had to grit her teeth to keep from screaming; by the time this oaf delivered them to the duke, their quarter of an hour would be over and they would have to turn back again!

Eons seemed to pass before the man stopped and dug around beneath the heavy gray wool coat all the gaolers wore, the clatter of many keys filling the dank silence. He fumbled with the lock for another eternity and then shoved opened the door, the shriek of metal on metal making both Cecile and her father jump.

“Ten minutes,” the man growled. “And tell the priest he will have to leave then, as well.”

They plunged into the near darkness of the cell, the only light a weak, smoky candle in the corner.

When the door slammed behind them, Cecile felt as if she’d just been sealed into a tomb.

“Michel?” The weak voice came from near the candle.

As her eyes adjusted, she saw that the priest was kneeling in front of the duke, their two figures making one large shape.

“I’m here, er—citizen.”

Cecile cringed as her father almost slipped and used the duke’s honorific. Although it felt as if they were alone, they’d learned the hard way that even bricks and mortar had ears.

“He doesn’t have long,” the priest said, pushing to his feet and turning to them.

Although the man wasn’t foolish enough to wear the collar of a priest, he carried a plain rosary in one hand. The candlelight illuminated his pinched features, and he frowned when his gaze flickered over Cecile. “I’m not sure how I feel about this. The girl is so young—and there can be no consum—”

Her father cleared his throat, interrupting the man. It was rude and unlike him. What had the priest been about to say? What about her? Why was—

“You know the reasons we are doing this,” her father whispered in a heated voice. “You agreed already. And now—after I’ve spent every sou I have, you are changing your mind? Do you realize—”

The priest raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I will not go back on my word. I just wanted to make sure she is aware of what will happen here today.”

Cecile looked from one man to the other, perplexed. “Father? What—”

“Shh.” He pulled her past the priest, toward where the duke was lying on a pallet covered by a filthy, ragged blanket. He was so thin and pale she hardly recognized him.

Her father bowed his head and sank clumsily to his knees beside his former patron, pulling Cecile down with him.

“Your Grace,” he whispered, and then leaned forward and took the old man’s frail hand, kissing the place where his seigneurial ring had sat for so long that there was a permanent indentation in the flesh. “I’m honored that you called upon me in your time of need.”

The duke’s heavy-lidded gaze was on Cecile, not her father. “Have you told Manon the truth, Michel?”

Cecile wanted to remind all three men that she was right there. She also wanted to remind the duke that she went by Cecile now, not her hateful first name. But her father would be mortified, so she remained silent.

Michel Tremblay opened his mouth, hesitated, and then turned to Cecile. “The priest is here to marry you to His Grace.”

Cecile thought her jaw would come unhinged. She tried to form words, but nothing would come.

A low, raspy chuckle filled the dank chamber. “I cannot blame you for looking so horrified, Manon.”