Page 31 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

“And us?” growled Griffin, meeting her eyes. “Where will we stay?”

Oh dear.

“It’s just one night, Papa,” Marcia assured him. “Rupert will stay with Bull—as long as the secretary doesn’t go into the chamber, he won’t know there’s only one bed. And I’m going to stay in the pink room, or at least pretend that’s my room.” Her nose wrinkled. “It’s all pink frills, but there’s so much light, and eight pillows on the bed!”

Griffin was staring down at his daughter, his expression unreadable. But Felicity, who was beginning to guess how he thought, wondered if she saw regret in his blue eyes. She’d never known Marcia longed for a well-appointed chamber…and she doubted he had, either.

This seemed like a simple enough request. One night.

One night of make-believe.

“Marcia and I wrote him together,” Bull said quietly. “Rupert helped, too. He’s verra good at researching. We…told the duke what we thought was relevant about the family.”

“The pretend family,” Griffin correctly, still staring at his daughter.

“Right, the pretend family. The happy family.” Bull cleared his throat. “We embellished at bit, but since the entire thing is an embellishment, we figured it wouldnae be too bad. All we have to do is fetch Rupert and pretend to be a family. The Calderbanks.”

Marcia squeezed her father. “I know we can convince him, Papa.”

Over her head, Griffin met Felicity’s eyes.

She couldn’t read them, but was that just the slightest twitch of a brow? Was he…asking her thoughts?

For some reason, the realization made her flush with pleasure. The Grump Next Door…his trust brought her pleasure?

Vowing to explore the implications at a later time, and ignoring the way her heart was slamming against her ribs, she raised her chin. “It could be fun.”

And this time, she didn’t mistake the slight curl of Griffin’s lips. “Fine. One night of lies, I suppose we can manage that.”

Whatever response she could have made would have been drowned out by Bull’s whoop and Marcia’s squeal of excitement. The two of them lunged for one another, grabbing hands and jumping about in a circle, in an entirely childish manner.

It made her smile.

Or perhaps she was smiling because Griffin was smiling almost reluctantly as he watched them cavort.

Felicity straightened her shoulders and tried to arrange her expression into one of ladylike hospitality. That’s when the Wee Fiend dug his claws into her collarbone.

“Ow!” she muttered, trying to pry him off.

Suddenly, Griffin was beside her. “Do ye need help?”

It seemed as if each time she removed one paw, another set of claws would find purchase. “No, it’s just that your—ow. He has decided he doesn’t want to be set down.”

She could see the slightest smirk in Griffin’s eyes as he glanced toward the settee, where Miss Prettypaws had been quietly lounging. “Ye have a cat infestation, Flick.”

Well, she did rather, didn’t she? With a sigh, Felicity nudged the kitten higher on her shoulder, until the determined little devil made himself comfortable sitting like a parrot. “I suppose I should allow him his fun. He will get tired and run off soon enough.”

He was examining her expression. “Will he?” Griffin murmured, and she wondered what he saw.

So she plastered on a smile and tossed back the curl that refused to stay in her bun, and swept toward the door. “Come along, children, bring your father. We have lies to tell.”

Chapter 6

He’d had dinner with her the evening before; the night before that he’d held her at knifepoint; an hour ago she’d propositioned him. But watching her chat with the secretary of the Duke of Peasgoode, it became clear that Griffin really didn’t know a bloody thing about Felicity Montrose.

Last night she’d clearly been out of her element, but once Bull had steered the conversation toward her photography, she’d lit up like one of her damned flashes. She was a woman who knew what she wanted, and went after it.

This afternoon in the parlor had proven it.

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