Page 127 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

Either way, for the first time in twenty-four hours, Felicity felt as if she could finally breathe. Relax. Give thanks.

The children were spread around the parlor. Rupert had found a book on the birds of the Highlands and was bent over it, muttering about the greater migratory pincushion, or something. Marcia and Bull sat, heads together, murmuring back and forth. The lass seemed to be comforting Felicity’s son, and it was strange to see him so subdued.

But still, there was a fierce spike of joy deep in her stomach to see him accept such friendship. From the moment the Calderbanks had moved in next door, the pair of them had been inseparable. She knew Griffin had worried about something romantic growing between the two, but Felicity had seen it for what it was: a desperately needed friendship.

She’d been right not to board up that secret door; right not to limit the children’s access to one another.

And besides, if she had, they wouldn’t all be here today, would they?

She sighed softly and tipped her head back to rest against Griffin’s arm. He made a small noise, like a grunt. Her gaze flicked to him questioningly, but he was staring straight ahead, frowning thoughtfully, and she didn’t want to interrupt him.

The doctor had left him medicine for pain, but he’d refused to take it. She knew because she’d been up most of the night, fretting over him, which had been an entirely new experience. It had made her feel less useless, although she never wanted to experience yesterday’s fear ever again.

But…Griffin was alive. Bull was alive. Griffin was, if not exactly hearty, then at least whole. Totwafel’s bullet had given him a new scar, but only a few inches of the slice were deep enough to require stitches; the rest was little more than burn.

Although it must be very painful, judging from the way Griffin cursed about it.

Absentmindedly, she tickled Grumpy Cat’s chin, then pulled her fingers away from his too-sharp kitten teeth.

Griffin’s fingers caressed her shoulder. “He said he would meet us here?” he murmured.

“Yes. He sent word with Mrs. Bobo and the tea trolley. Have you eaten enough? Do you want another sandwich?”

He grunted again, which was completely unhelpful in terms of communication. As she went to lean forward, planning to make him up another small plate, his hand closed around her shoulder.

“Nay, I’m fine. No’ hungry. Just…nervous.”

It was so strange, hearing Griffin admit to such a thing, that she turned to gape. One corner of his lips curled ruefully, almost apologetic.

“Now we ken Duncan’s no’ the traitor, we have to tell him the truth.”

“Yes,” she whispered, suddenly just as nervous. She wished she hadn’t had that last small sandwich.

From across the room, Rupert blurted, “Turdus migratorius! Ha!” He looked up from his book to realize everyone was staring at him. “The American robin is the Turdus migratorius Bull, remind me to call you that sometime, aright?”

“Only if I can call ye Turdus littlebrotherus in return.”

The lad frowned. “Is that a dinosaur? It sounds like a dinosaur.”

Bull was saved from having to answer by the arrival of two footmen holding open the door while a third pushed the Duke’s wheeled chair.

The assembled family sat straighter.

Duncan looked exhausted, thinner, somehow diminished. There were bags under his eyes which likely matched Felicity’s, and his shoulders were stooped. But there was a fierce determination in his eyes which she recognized.

“How is Ian?” she asked, knowing it was on everyone’s mind.

The footman pushed his chair beside the hearth, where a small fire dispelled the chill from the room, and turned him about to face them. As he did, they saw the Duke’s tired smile. He waved his fingers, dismissing the footman, then answered.

“He’s as stubborn as ever, the silly fool.” There was a fondness—no, a devotion in his tone which made Felicity’s heart ache. “He insisted on joining us.”

As the same footman returned, wheeling Ian in a matching chair, Felicity watched Duncan’s expression. Yes, that was most definitely love in the old man’s gaze, and weariness, and exasperation.

What would it be like, to grow old with the one you loved? To know his foibles and talents and dreams as well as your own? To feel his pain and share in his joy.

Felicity felt her eyes fill with tears.

Tears of envy. She wanted that.

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