Page 87 of The Duchess Curse

“The duke has his uses, and outside of marrying you, I’d like to keep his reputation spotless. The duke is useless to you if I don’t. Besides, no one seems to mind I’ve married you. You may be notorious, but your father is an earl from an incredibly wealthy and well-connected family. And you’ve given the transcendent ton something to gossip about. I think you’ve improved the duke’s reputation.”

He always spoke of himself as if the duke were separate from Bran, an entirely different person. “In here,” she said over her shoulder, stepping into a building with the words Biira Shipping Company painted in gold over the door.

Inside, Guin caught the eye of an older white woman sitting at a desk near the front. “Excuse me, Mrs. Potts. Is Ndege here?”

The secretary for the shipping company looked up with a wide grin. “Lady Guin!”

Before she could say more, a Black woman strode out of the back office. Ndege was tall and lithe and had shaved her hair close to her scalp.

“Lady G! We haven’t seen you in months,” Ndege said, her voice lightly accented.

“I’ve been busy.”

“I heard about the fire.” Ndege leaned a hip against the desk and crossed her arms. She wore a gown today, but Guin had seen her dressed like a man, too. She seemed to wear what pleased her. Right now, her gaze caught on Bran, who stood a step behind Guin as usual. “But I see not all rumors are to be trusted. I also heard he’d died.”

“I did,” Bran said.

“Don’t listen to him. We thought he was dead, but we were mistaken. There was a fire, though. The entire shop burnt down.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And Ndege looked it, too, with lips pursed and eyes troubled. “But I am glad to see you both well. What brings you here today?”

“The usual. Plants. But I was wondering if you have anything new for me.” Ndege had supplied Guin with plants from around the world for years now. “I’m especially looking for those that thrive in places where there is an abundance of sun and heat.”

Ndege nodded toward her office. “Perhaps. Follow me.”

Inside, a Black man sat behind a large mahogany desk, bent over a large, water-warped ledger. He scrawled across its pages, turning dark ink into precise script. His tightly curled hair was parted down the side, and he looked up as they entered.

“Lady Guinevere,” he said. “And Bran. What a miraculous surprise.”

“I’m not dead,” Bran grumbled.

“I see that.” Kikulwe leaned back in his chair and intertwined his hands behind his head as his wife stood next to his chair.

“They need plants from Buganda,” Ndege said. “Or Greece perhaps. Do we have any recent shipments that might prove helpful?” Ndege knew navigation routes, star charts, and trade negotiations; her husband knew numbers. They made an excellent team.

“Hmm.” Kikulwe flipped through the ledger, running a finger quickly down each page. “Nothing she hasn’t used before. Nile tulip?”

“I’ve not had that in some time. I should like some.”

He nodded and continued through the ledger. “Aloe”

“I’ve plenty of that, thank you.” Guin tapped her bottom lip. “Do you think you could keep me in mind as you travel? I need something that thrives particularly in climates with heavy sunlight.”

“Or no sunlight at all,” Bran said.

“Yes, but I thought we might visit Mrs. Boyd after this.”

He grunted, nodding.

Guin turned back to the Kikulwe and Ndege. “I’ll pay well.”

Ndege laughed. “You always do. Would you like to peruse the warehouse. There may be something that catches your eye.”

“Oh yes, please. Webale.”

Ndege made for the door, and Bran caught Guin’s wrist.

“I’ll meet you at the carriage,” he said. “There’s something I want to ask Kikulwe.”