Page 45 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

“Ooof. Within what? And lift your end higher!”

“Within our hearts.”

Goodness, the lad could sound smug, couldn’t he?

“And I’m lifting as high as I can. You’re the one who is tripping over that ridiculous split skirt.”

“Ridiculous? It’s the next best thing to trousers!”

“Why not just wear trousers?”

“I’m trying, but Mrs. Mac says it’s indecent! Now lift your end higher, please!”

Felicity left the siblings bickering and slipped through the secret door, noting how dark it was already. Goodness, it had been a long day, hadn’t it?

A long few days.

To think, last week she’d known her neighbor only as the writer of cantankerous, demanding notes.

And then she’d rubbed herself against him in the dark, and sparks had started in her mind, and across her skin.

“Griffin?” she whispered into the dim interior, her neck craning about. “Bull?”

“Flick!” Her son was grinning as he all-but-tripped down the steps, his arms full of carpetbags. “Mrs. Mac is upstairs packing the rest of Marcia’s gowns, although I told her Marsh wasnae going to wear them.”

Felicity put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Surely, in a duke’s residence, she will want to dress appropriately?”

“Nay,” he drawled with a grin. “I’ll wager ye anything ye want that she uses this as an excuse to break out the trousers.”

Remembering the argument she’d just encountered, Felicity grimaced. “I would not take that wager. Where is your—where is Griffin?”

Judging from his grin, Bull noticed her slip. “He’s up in his chamber, muttering to himself about which evening coats to pack. He wouldnae take my advice.”

“I cannot imagine why,” she deadpanned. Her son had remarkable fashion sense, but a sometimes-close-to-unbearable impudence. “Be careful sneaking those to the room we picked for Marcia—I am afraid Ian will pop his head out and see us apparently moving in.”

Bull was, as always, cocksure. “If he does, I’ll tell him we’re rehearsing for a play.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Sure, everyone knows acoustics are better in the middle of the night. That’s why we need these bags.” He lifted them slightly, his expression so serious it had to be faked. “To carry them.”

Carry the acoustics?

She patted his arm again, trying to hide her grin. “You are becoming remarkably good at this lying business, darling. Should I be worried?”

“Nay.” He leaned down and bussed her cheek, then winked. “I wouldnae lie to ye, Flick.”

Bemused, she lifted her fingertips to her cheek and watched him slip through the secret door, which stayed open behind him.

He’d kissed her? In the months since he’d returned to live with her, their relationship had been stilted, awkward. Each wanted to show the other affection, and receive it in return…but it was as if neither knew exactly where to start.

Apparently a relationship built on lying to other people can bring two closer together. Who would have guessed?

In a bit of a daze, Felicity climbed the main stairs. As she drew close to the main chamber, she heard Griffin muttering. He sounded angry.

What else is new?

This grouchy neighbor of hers was foul-tempered, rude, and more than a little dangerous. So why was she drawn to him so inexplicably?

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