Page 106 of The Duchess Curse

“It’s quite convenient, yes.”

Madame Poppy strolled between the long worktables, dragging her palm across the tops. “I see you’re still alive.”

“Have there been rumors to the contrary?”

“No, but I had hoped…”

Hoped. Fascinating.

“And then,” the other woman said, “when that pompous alchemist came to my shop demanding my customer list, I knew things had become complicated.”

“Do you mean Hesperus Grant?”

“Tall and broody and with a stick shoved so far up his bum it comes out his mouth? Yes, him.”

“Thank you for providing the list.”

“What does it matter that you know who buys from me? It won’t help you find the source of the attacker.”

“And why is that?” Though Guin was beginning to suspect.

“Because I don’t put myself on there.” She stopped, gave Guin a brilliant grin. “Are you surprised I’ve been sending mercenary assassins after you?”

“Moderately.”

Madame Poppy took up her slow pacing again, tapping her fingertips on the tabletops. “It’s nothing personal. I admire you tremendously. But as long as your business is popular, mine will not be. Oh, I’ve cornered the nefarious market. Every criminal wants a red bottle. But the ton only want amber ones. It’s not fair. I’ve worked and starved my entire life, and every door remains closed against me. Unless I open them myself.”

“Or have mercenary assassins kick them down for you.”

“Precisely. I knew you’d understand.”

“So you’ve come here to kill me?” Guin flexed her hand in her skirts. Very close by, her walking stick leaned against the table.

Madame Poppy sighed. “No. I’ve decided killing you is more trouble than I care to take up. That walking bum stick is hanging about and scaring off my clientele. I’ve come to make you an offer.”

Guin scooted her hand closer to the carved raven, though with much less urgency than before. “Oh? Do share.”

The other woman stopped walking. She looked Guin straight in the eye, the hardness melting away from her gaze. “Be a duchess. Please. Be a duchess and let me take care of the potions. I don’t have anything else. I had nothing in New York. I have little here. My sister”—she swallowed some emotion she didn’t want Guin to see—“she’s sick and⁠—”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I do have a sister!”

“Oh, I’m sure, but I guarantee you she’s as dubious and healthy as you are.”

Madame Poppy hid a grin, shrugged. “I see why you’re so cunningly successful.”

Guin grasped her stick, and the young woman didn’t even flinch, so Guin walked closer, stood right in front of her. “I do think you’ve worked hard, though. I think you’re talented.”

“Think? Ha. I know I can brew better than you.”

“I also think cockiness will be your ruin.”

The girl rolled her eyes.

“Can you fight?” Guin asked.

“I know how to throw a punch. But what’s the use when potion is so much cleaner? Stop trying to distract me. Will you leave Finsbury for Mayfair and let someone else take your place?”