Page 130 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

“It was my idea to enter, when I saw Gruff’s name on that list,” Bull corrected. “But it was yer idea to claim we were one family.”

The lass grinned proudly. “And I’d do it again. I knew Papa was worried about money, although he’d never say it to us. I knew we’d have to move again, and I didn’t want to. The listing said His Grace cared about family, and I thought this way we could look like a real family. All the other men on the list—Rupert researched them, remember? They were all married.”

Felicity wanted to tell her You were a real family already, but Griffin interrupted. Instead of saying the same thing, however, he spoke to the Duke.

“Flick and I—we thought we only had to convince Ian for one evening. That was simple enough. But when he said we had to come to Peasgoode, we kenned we couldnae keep lying. And then…”

When he glanced at her, Felicity offered him an encouraging smile and took up the story. “Then one of the other agents arrived. That same night. He told us about the connection between Peasgoode and Blackrose, and how important it was to investigate.”

“Aye.” Griffin took over again. “He pointed out that as invited guests, we’d be able to search for the evidence we needed to prove the connection.”

Bull took over the explanation. “So we had to continue our lies. We wouldnae have taken it so far, except we needed to stay here, to keep searching for evidence linking ye—or anyone—to Blackrose.”

“You arse!”

When Marcia punched him in his upper arm, Bull yelped and leaned away from her. “What was that for?”

“You knew that’s why we were here? This whole time?”

Felicity’s son winced and rubbed his arm. “Aye, I’ve been helping yer da look for the evidence. And should ye no’ be spelling words like A-R-S-E in front of yer brother?”

She punched him again. “You arse! You might’ve told me! All this time, I thought we were just trying to win that stupid contest! Totwafel tried to kill Papa, and now you’re telling me that’s why?”

When she threw another punch, Bull caught her fist, and the pair of them devolved into a snarling sort of slapping-and-kicking fight which had Grumpy Cat’s hair standing up along his back.

“Children,” Felicity barked. “Children.”

They froze and stared wide-eyed in her direction.

Smugness tightened her lungs. Perhaps her parental voice had improved, somewhat.

“I would ask you to behave. This is not the place for…” She hesitated. “F-I-T-I-N-G.”

Rupert startled them all when he slammed the bird book shut. It had been easy to forget he was listening. “Flick, I must remind you, yet again, that I can read and write and—this is the important bit—spell. Somewhat better than you, I would venture. Fighting isn’t a naughty word.”

She blinked, surprised, and ran her hand down the kitten’s back to calm them both. “I…am never certain what sort of language is appropriate for a ten-year-old lad.”

After all, she hadn’t been allowed to be around Bull when he had been ten years old.

As if Griffin could hear her unspoken thought, he squeezed her hand. “Let’s assume there’s little ye might say, Flick, which could be considered inappropriate for Rupert’s ears.” He shifted his focus to the other children. “As for ye two…save yer fighting for later. Marcia, if ye can land five blows on yer brother in a half hour, I’ll consider ye the winner.”

Bull snorted. “And what, I just have to block them? I’m no’ hitting her back.”

“Good, she’s younger than ye. Ye’ll just have to get good at running away.”

Felicity thought that was very unfair, but judging from the fact both Griffin and Bull were wearing smirks, she had to assume this was some sort of male humor she was unprepared to understand.

Duncan had been silent all this time, watching them with an incredulous expression on his face. Now, he shifted forward in his chair. “Let me be certain I understand this. Ye, Bull, are no’ actually related to Marcia? Despite Griffin just referring to ye as her brother?”

Her son swallowed, looking chagrined. Well, on the one hand, Felicity was glad he was facing the consequences of his actions, but on the other, her heart ached to take some of this awkwardness, since she was just as much at fault as he was.

“Nay, Yer Grace,” Bull admitted quietly. “My mother and I live next door to Marcia and Rupert and their da.”

“I thought Mrs. MacSquash-Lovin-Doodle lived next door?” Oh dear, the Duke really seemed lost.

“She’s our nanny. And housekeeper,” Marcia offered with a wince. “Sorry. She’s like family, really. We couldn’t leave her at home.”

“And all those things ye told me? About yer lives together?”

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