Page 4 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

As Marcia gasped, Griffin stood, still holding his daughter’s hand. “I ken what it says, and I repeat: rubbish. Rubbish.”

The lad didn’t reply, but his gray eyes flicked to Marcia, then back to Griffin.

As if making a decision, the lad suddenly nodded briskly and shoved the paper under his arm. “Aye, rubbish.” He sent a wink to Marcia, which Griffin pretended not to see. “I’ll toss it in the bin on the way out.”

Griffin would’ve believed him, except he caught the way Bull tapped the paper with two fingers once more, then nodded somberly to Marcia. Worse than that was the way Marcia’s expression cleared from confusion to trust, and she nodded in return.

Whatever the lad was thinking, he’d more or less announced his intention to discuss it with Griffin’s daughter, and she trusted him.

“Look, ye little—” he began to growl, but Bull interrupted yet again.

“Dinnae fash, Gruff,” he announced cheerfully, giving a little wave as he backed out of the room. “Marsh, I’ll meet ye out front in a quarter hour?”

“Aye!” she readily agreed. “I’ll get Rupert ready too.”

Bull’s grin seemed mocking. “I’ll see myself out.”

“That door should be plastered over!” Griffin called as the lad ducked out of the door.

His own reply was a single hand that popped around the jamb long enough to give a cheeky little finger wave, before disappearing once more.

Griffin felt his muscles tense at the lad’s disrespect. “That…”

“Da,” Marcia prompted, patting him on the arm, “Bull’s my friend. Even if he hasn’t figured out how to land so his thigh takes most of the brunt.”

Her comment deflated some of Griffin’s irritation, and he blew out a breath. “Did I tell ye I was proud of ye?”

“No.” She grinned cheekily. “But I know.”

“Good,” he said gruffly, pulling her into an awkward hug. “I hope ye understand why I make ye practice such things.”

“Aye.” Her voice was muffled against his chest. “You want to keep us safe. But nothing will happen to us, Papa. Mother’s death was an accident.”

Was it?

But all he replied was, “Ye’re my family.”

“I understand.” She patted him once more, then pulled away from his embrace, grinning eagerly. “And I love you too, Papa. But now I have to go get Rupert!” she called as she all but skipped from the room.

She was so damned excited to spend a few hours eating ice cream with her friend and brother, who was he to stand in her way?

Ye’ll stand behind her, in the shadows, protecting them. As ye always have.

At his sides, his hands curled into fists, the familiar pull of old scars more of a comfort than anything else.

His firm didn’t pay him enough, and Blackrose was still at large, and he’d have to uproot his children once more soon enough. But no matter what happened, he’d keep his family safe.

He had to.

Chapter 1

Felicity Montrose frowned and peered through the darkness at the secret panel leading from her study to the townhouse next door.

It was ajar.

Ajar, from an old Scottish word meaning “turned slightly”, although the knowledge did little to help her at this moment.

A sound from behind her made her start, but before she could turn, a familiar feline brushed against her skirts. “Hello, Cheeseburg,” she murmured. “I do not have a treat for you. Or any food, really, which makes it surprising you are here when you could be in the kitchens. Are you looking for Bull as well?”

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