Page 129 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

Griffin squeezed her hand. “Well done, ye got that one correct.”

She didn’t seem to hear; she was too focused on Bull.

The lad looked sheepish. “Again, I’m sorry, Flick. I should’ve just given him the camera.”

“Ye were verra brave, son.” Griffin’s voice was thick with some kind of emotion, and he cleared his throat. “But dinnae do it again, aye?”

Bull nodded, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on his knees. “Aye, I promise. But I’m sorry, Flick, for losing yer prototype. I thought it would be good evidence.”

It was Griffin’s turn to lift her hand to his lips, brushing a finger across her knuckles. “I’m sorry as well, love. Yer camera is at the bottom of the river.”

She gaped at both the men in her life.

“You cannot seriously think I would regret the camera’s loss, not when balanced against Bull’s li—L-I-F-E?”

“Life isnae a bad word, Flick. But that camera was yer life’s work.”

“Then I will build another one,” she snapped, then forced herself to relax as, in her arms, the kitten gave an angry little hiss. “Or I will write to Mr. Le Prince or even Mr. Edison and share my designs. He has been nagging me for a year to share my progress, and this way we can start again together.”

Bull smiled weakly. “Again, Flick, I’m sorry.”

With a sigh, she settled the kitten on her lap once more. “I love you, Bull. You are far more important than a B-L-O-D-D-Y camera.”

“I love ye too, Mother.”

He so rarely called her Mother—usually just to prove a point—that she had to smile in return.

Yes, that camera had been a major part of her life for the last few years, and she’d been proud of the progress she’d made on the new technology.

But now she had other things in her life to be proud of. Like Bull himself, or Marcia and Rupert. They were more important than her prototype.

Besides, she still had all her notes. Where would a scientist be without her notes?

“I have a question.” Ian was slumped to one side, looking pale as his head lolled toward Duncan’s shoulder. His arm rested in a sling, and his shirt was cut open to reveal the bandage around his shoulder. He looked half-dead, but his voice was strong. “You said you knew Totwafel was in contact with this Blackrose?”

Griffin shifted, then hissed in pain. Felicity’s fingers tightened around his but when she sent him a worried glance, he shook his head, telling her he was fine.

That wasn’t going to stop her from keeping a close eye on him, though.

“Ian, we said we knew someone at Peasgoode was in contact with Blackrose. Frankly…” He shrugged apologetically, favoring his wounded side. “We thought it was the Duke. Or ye. We kenned it had to be someone in charge.”

“And when you say we, you mean…?”

“Those of us who are involved in the elephant—the investigation.”

“I'm sorry, did you say—”

“Never mind,” said Griffin hastily, lifting his chin. “We’ve all been duped by Blackrose, and are determined to see him brought to justice. He was the reason I dragged my family to America, to keep them safe from his machinations. Now that we’ve returned, I’ll do whatever I can to see him brought to justice.”

The secretary studied Griffin silently for a long moment. What did he see? Felicity was afraid to ask.

Finally, the older man exhaled. “And…is that why you entered Duncan’s little contest? Why you are here, pretending to be a family?” At their surprised reactions, Ian smiled painfully. “I heard what Totwafel said, despite the lying on the ground.”

“Bleeding to death,” the Duke muttered.

Bull spoke up. “It was my idea to write to you.”

“No, it was mine,” Marcia insisted, flopping back against the sofa and frowning at her friend. “Remember? I said—”

---