Page 72 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

As it was, they ran into each other—literally—in the hall.

He’d taken the exit from his chamber to the corridor, and he happened to be walking past as Felicity stepped out of hers. Instinctively, Griffin reached out to steady her, and when she turned to find herself nearly in his arms, her face lit up.

It should’ve been embarrassing or awkward. Instead, she lit the fook up like a firework, and Griffin felt lower than a worm.

“Good morning,” Felicity announced cheerfully. “Have you breakfasted?”

It was a struggle to keep his tone even. “I’m on my way.” Then, since it seemed they were going the same place, he offered his arm. “Do ye think the Duke will join us?”

When she slid her arm into his, he felt those damned sparks again. “I hope so. The anticipation is killing me.”

He grunted in agreement.

To his surprise, Felicity chuckled. When he glanced down at her, her smile turned rueful and she patted his arm. “No, please, do not overwhelm me with your insights, Griffin.”

She was teasing him? A reluctant smile tugged at his lips.

This time, the noise she made was suspiciously like a grunt, and he was certain she’d done it on purpose.

He was in a better mood when they arrived in the breakfast room.

“Good morning, Papa!”

Releasing Felicity, he stepped toward Marcia to receive his daughter’s kiss. “Good morning, Marcia. I see ye’ve forgotten to wear a gown again today, and somehow acquired a jacket and waistcoat.”

“What?” She did a credible job of looking surprised as she glanced down at herself. “Well, hell, Papa, look at that! Those are trousers! You can see where my legs bend in the middle!”

Felicity was helping Rupert with his plate, and cleared her throat. “Marcia, L-A-N-G-A-G-E, remember.” Her eyes cut frantically to the lad and back. “Young ears, and all that.”

“Yes,” Rupert agreed solemnly, “you can’t afford to let me know you have knees.”

Marcia was still pretending shock. “Knees? I have knees?”

“Everyone has them, Marsh,” Bull announced as he entered the room. “We just dinnae need to see yers. Good morning, Flick.” He blew his mother a kiss, then winked. “Feeling invigorated this morning, are ye?”

Now Felicity blushed. This morning, when she’d taken Griffin’s arm, she hadn’t blushed, hadn’t seemed to feel awkward, but this scamp made her feel embarrassed?

Growling, Griffin turned a threatening glare toward Bull.

The lad lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, Flick, didnae mean to tease. Marsh, yer knees are lovely, or so I assume, but of course I cannae see them. No’ that I have any interest in seeing them.”

Rupert was examining his sausage, and without looking up, said, “I’d stop while you were ahead, if I were you.”

“If ye were me, laddie, we’d be good-looking and brilliant, which would be an unfair advantage to the rest of the world.”

“Yes, and you’d have four knees.” Marcia was grinning as she served herself. “Do you think these are neeps? I just learned about them. Apparently they’re a kind of fish?”

“Neeps are turnips,” Rupert said blandly. “The thing you’re eating is a completely normal sausage.”

His sister speared it with a fork, held it up, and squinted at her newly acquired meat-tube. “Hmm. I suppose I shall have to trust you.”

Rupert delicately attacked his egg. “Imagine my relief.”

Over their heads, Felicity’s gaze met his. Griffin was surprised to see a twinkle of amusement in her green eyes. “Oh dear, what are we going to do with them?”

“Well, I dinnae ken about ye, but I’m considering leaving them out for the wolves.”

Felicity pretended disappointment. “Well, as a D-U-T-I-F-U-L-L wife, I shall have to defer to you.”

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