Page 22 of The Duchess Curse

“That’s Merlin,” Guin said. “He’s a dear beast, but we’ll leave covered in hair.”

The door swung open and a red-faced butler waved them inside. A giant dog laid on the floor behind him, huffing.

“Quick,” the butler said, “Before the dog makes a run for it. He’ll come back, of course, but not until he’s run several laps around the square and the constable’s come knocking on our door. Doesn’t do for a family of our standing.”

Guin chuckled. “Doesn’t do at all, Briggs”

“The Royal Alchemist lives here! And the Marchioness!” He didn’t have to specify which one. Diana Grant had become known, simply, as The Marchioness in every circle of London. “Besides that, her ladyship gets awful worried when the beast escapes, and if she’s worried, the alchemist is…” Briggs shivered. “Right scary.”

“Where is she?”

“Where else?”

“The library. Many thanks, Briggs!” Guin set off toward the back of the house, Bran close on her heels. A door at the end of the corridor was open, and Guin sailed in.

The Marchioness sat on the floor in a puddle of her own skirts. The skirts were wrinkled, even where they fell over her large, round belly, and her rich brown coiffure was slightly tilted, definitely mussed.

“Your husband is nearby?” Guin asked when Diana looked up from one of the books spread out around her.

“He just left for his forge.” Diana pushed to her feet, smoothing her skirts. “How did you know?”

Guin smoothed her friend’s hair back with a smile. “He left evidence behind.”

Diana’s cheeks rushed pink. “Should I call for tea?” She glanced at Braxton, waiting patiently.

“You wish to be introduced, I take it.”

“If you please.”

“This is the Duke of Braxton.”

Braxton bowed and said, “An honor to meet you, my lady.”

“You’re the fellow who champions for fair potion laws,” Diana said.

“Not that it does any good. I am outnumbered in the House of Lords.”

Diana waved to a group of seats nearby. “Please, sit.”

Braxton nudged Guin toward a chair then took up sentry at the door. “I’ll remain standing, thank you.”

Guin’s heart stopped for a long moment, and when it started back up it was tangled into knots. Bran always stood at doors. Well… he used to.

“Are you unwell?” Diana asked, helping Guin to a seat.

“I’m fine, I just… sometimes I miss Bran. I should be the one asking about your health.”

“I’m perfectly fine! Not that Temple agrees. This little one should have already made her debut, but she’s being stubborn.” Diana tugged a bell pull in the corner and joined Guin. “But you… you lost much, and it has still not been long enough to grieve it all.”

“Little things remind me of him.” Guin laughed, a pitiful sounding thing, half hiccup. “Anytime a man stands by a door.”

Braxton shifted from foot to foot, and a maid swept past him into the room.

“Briggs said you were in need of refreshment,” the maid said. “Then there was the bell, but we were mostly through by then.” She left a silver tray, laden with a variety of goods and a steaming pot of tea and bustled out again.

“Is it a race?” Guin asked.

Diana melted into the back of her chair with a groan. “A few days ago, there was some calamity in the kitchen, and I did not get my afternoon tea. I hardly noticed, but Temple did, and he gave quite the unfair lecture to the staff.” She rubbed her round belly. “He is much too nervous about all this.”