Page 101 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

This close, he could see the large wet splotch across the top of her chest, making her white linen blouse—and the chemise under it—translucent. Her hair’s disarray made sense now; between that and the fact her spectacles were slightly askew, and the patches of dirt and water on her skirts, it was obvious the kitten hadn’t approved of a bath.

“And he is not a barn cat,” she was saying, more to the animal than to Griffin. “Marcia and I were discussing—well, it matters not. This adorable beastie ran up to us, crawled into our laps, and decided we were his new family.”

“And I suppose the Duke is going to welcome this new flea-carrier in his home?”

She clucked dismissively as she continued to dry the cat. “Do not listen to him, Grumpy Cat. You do not have fleas! And Mrs. Bobo assured me His Grace will welcome you.”

“Really?” Griffin realized he was trying not to smile.

Felicity peeked up at him, her own lips twitching. “She was rather enamored of the wee beastie.”

Griffin stared. Christ, she was beautiful, with that sparkle in her eye and the way her lower lips seemed so damned plump. Her cheeks were pink from the sunshine and her recent excitement, and she smelled like honey and berries and all the best things in the world.

He wanted her.

He always wanted her.

He suspected he always would.

This is a mission. Fer yer elephant hunt, dinnae forget that. It’s the only reason she’s pretending to be married to ye.

No other man had made her come. No other man had brought her pleasure.

Except him.

That fierce pride had kept him awake last night.

He’d been her first. He wanted to be her only.

Shite.

Here he stood, barefoot in the Duke of Peasgoode’s house, having not a single fooking idea where the evidence they needed was…and he was thinking about kissing Felicity, instead of the mission.

That, and the cat in his hands.

“There, little one,” she announced in satisfaction, pulling off the towel and proudly presenting the cat to Griffin. “Does he not look handsome?”

The gremlin was dry, and looked decidedly less gremlin-like. In fact, with that hair poofing out all over him, and those markings which looked like eyebrows, he looked…almost adorable.

Griffin wasn’t going to admit that, though. “He looks angry.”

“Aye,” Felicity quipped, snuggling the animal under his chin. “That is why we named him after ye.”

Griffin’s chuckles caught him by surprise.

Caught Felicity by surprise too, judging from the way her eyes widened. “Good heavens, Griffin, are you ill?”

But since she was smirking as she said it, he decided to ignore her teasing. “What are ye going to do with the newest addition to yer menagerie?”

“Grumpy’s home…” She sighed, then rubbed her chin over the animal’s fur. “Grumpy’s home is Peasgoode. I am delighted Mrs. Bobo already loves him, because I know someone will care for him after—after we are gone.” She swallowed and turned away. “In fact, I only offered to dry him off; I am certain the dear woman is waiting for him to return. She was going to make him a wee bed in the kitchens.”

There was sadness in her tone, aye, but acceptance too, as she crossed to the door.

She’s starting to sound like she belongs at Peasgoode.

It was a beautiful estate, and Griffin couldn’t deny his children loved it here, too. But they were here because of a lie, and that lie had to continue until he found the evidence he needed to link the Duke with Blackrose.

And then one day, bring the bastard to justice.

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