Page 19 of The Duchess Curse

“How many have there been?” he asked.

“Five this week, Your Grace. Are you really her husband?”

“Yes.”

“No disrespect meant, Your Grace… but why did Her Majesty put a… man like you in charge?”

“I’m not what I seem.”

Ned nodded. “A bit like Lady G, then.”

“A bit.”

“A duchess.” Ned whistled. “We all knew she was someone. Never suspected that.”

“This changes your job not at all, Ned. You still protect her with your life.”

The other man scratched the back of his neck. Bran had never seen him… sheepish? Hesitant? What had Guin said about him? Oh, yes.

“Ned”—Bran cupped the other man’s shoulder—“if you tire of the job, the risks, you quit. If you’re hoping for a family, you find other ways to provide for them.”

Ned’s jaw twitched. “I can’t now that Bran’s gone. Do you know about Bran?”

He almost laughed. “Yes, I know about Bran.”

“If he were still here, I’d have quit already. Mercy and I got married a month ago, and… she wants a baby.” Ned blushed. “So do I.”

“You’ll make a good father. I’m here now. You can go home to her if you like.”

“What? Now?”

Bran nodded.

Ned’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “Nah. Can’t trust you to do the work. I’ll probably have to protect you as well as Lady G.”

It took more energy than it should have to pull the shadows from all their corners and gather them around Ned’s eyes, but Bran did it, pulling the knife from his back hip at the same time.

And before Ned could take another breath, Bran had him pinned against the wall, had his knife to the other man’s throat.

Behind the shadows, Ned’s eyes widened. He clutched as Bran’s arms, struggling to escape.

But Bran held fast. “Oh, I don’t think you have to worry about me. I can take care of myself. And Guin.” He released Ned. “Go home, be with Mercy. Make a baby.”

Ned rubbed his throat and backed away from the building, grinning, then frowning, his thick brows pulling together. “Odd. He could… he could do that, too.”

Bran pretended to straighten cuffs that were too fake to be crooked. “Who?”

Ned shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“See that you are.” He almost called out for Ned to give Bran’s greetings to Mercy as the big man slunk down the street but stopped himself just in time.

It had been easy being Bran in a world where no one knew the Duke of Braxton. But being Braxton where everyone knew Bran— Fucking Jupiter, that was going to be much more difficult.

5

DO NOT TOUCH IT

Aduke was blocking the exit from her flat. Guinevere considered kicking him. Instead, she knelt and poked his shoulder—the one not providing a perch for the sleeping Artemis. Her finger sank through the glamour just slightly before touching wool stretched over muscle. Hard muscle. How did the glamour stay put so perfectly? He’d been gone before she woke the one night they’d spent together, so she had no idea if the glamour remained despite unconsciousness. Her father had never slept with his glamour. Indeed, most transcendents who wore inherited glamours only wore them in company. But not Braxton.