Page 107 of The Duchess Curse

“Why do you want my place?”

“I’m the best, but no one recognizes it.”

“And?” Still Guin circled.

Madame Poppy was growing nervous now. She was tough, but young, and the girl wore the madame like a glamour that was growing thin. “And I don’t want unnecessary competition between me and riches.”

“You want money.”

“Who doesn’t?” the girl snapped.

“Why?”

“Why not?” Trying to sound flippant.

“Because I’m prepared to make you an offer, but you’ll never know what it is if you don’t tell me the truth.”

Poppy opened her mouth but said not a word. Her shoulders were rigid as a cliff face, her eyes stormy as the sea, and if Guin could pull back the curtain of the girl’s composure, she knew what she’d find there because it would be exactly what roiled behind her own calm façade—fear, loneliness, desperation.

She stopped circling right in front of the other woman. “What’s it to be? The truth? Or do I call Mr. Hesperus Grant up to run you out of town?”

“He’s nothing but a dog on a leash!”

“And I’ll loose him unless you give me what I want.” There was much in life Guin could never have, but this she would.

Madame Poppy’s jaw worked side to side, her eyes flashing between hate and rage, but finally she spit out. “It is my sister. She’s not sick, but she’s mine, and I’m hers. And if I don’t keep her safe and alive no one else will.”

And she could sell a thousand potions at a pence a bottle, but life would never be stable enough, never satisfy the need for more. The girl had lived a cursed life. That fact was written on every line of her face.

Guin stepped back, resting both hands on the raven carved to look like the one she’d left at home with her heart.

“Is that enough?” Madame Poppy ground out. “Is that enough for your offer? Or do you wish me to prostrate myself before the great duchess? I won’t. Never.” She stood tall, hands balled into fists.

“No. Never prostrate yourself for anyone. Do you understand?”

Madame Poppy blinked. “I… well, yes, but… I think I’m lost. What do you mean?”

“It means I will make you that offer, but you must make me a promise.”

Madame Poppy inched closer, hands opening and closing in greedy little gestures. When she was almost toe to toe with Guin, Guin lifted the other woman’s chin with the raven of her walking stick.

“No more assassins,” Guin said. “No more attempted murder, no matter what you think of the competition.”

Madame Poppy grinned. “I suppose I can consider that.”

25

A DUKE WITHOUT HIS DUCHESS

Artemis winged around the ceiling of Guin’s bedchamber, trying to tell Bran something.

He tried to coax her down, to calm her, but she tore from one end of the room to the other, each caw almost mournful.

Damn bird. She’d put her own restlessness into Bran, who could not stop pacing alongside her. One end of the room to the other, wondering where his wife had gone and feeling he shouldn’t quite be so surprised to find her missing.

When Berkley appeared in the doorway, Artemis swooped down and landed on Bran’s shoulder, ruffling her feathers.

“Shh,” he said, petting her head. “It’s fine.”