Page 119 of The Dueling Duchess

“He’s clutch-fisted, pesters his female employees, and his wife is a harpy.”

“He sounds like quite a prize.”

Blade spun the knife around the back of her hand and fixed him with an unblinking stare.

“So, is that . . . it?”

“No.”

Guy let his head fall back against the door with a thud.

When he heard her chuckle, he looked down at her. “You’re tormenting me on purpose.”

“I can’t help myself,” she admitted. “It’s just so . . . easy.”

“Very droll. So, if Blanchard sold the gun business, then how does he make his money?”

“Do you know the story of Blanchet and Blanchard?” she asked.

“I know they both made fowling pieces and pistols and that the English guns were relatively inexpensive and nowhere near the same level of craftsmanship as the French.”

Blade nodded. “Cecile’s grandfather and his twin founded Blanchet in France but had a falling out. The brother moved here and changed his name to Blanchard. As you say, Blanchard never produced the sought-after collector’s pieces that the French gunsmiths did. Perhaps that was because of a lack of royal patronage—who knows?” She shrugged, slid one of her knives into a coat pocket, and continued. “Since closing the business, Curtis moved his family to a house on the edge of Mayfair, his wife patronizes only the best shops, and his two sons attended Harrow. He’s also a member of White’s and has aspirations to run for a seat in Commons.”

Guy stared, confused. “Your story doesn’t make any sense. Curtis was only modestly well-off before he closed his company, but now he’s wealthy? Where is all this money coming from?”

“Curtis sold a patent for a percussion cap to an armament maker—J. T. Guthrie’s.”

“Guthrie’s has several big government contracts if I’m not mistaken. So . . . are you telling me that Curtis Blanchard conceived of this percussion cap?”

“No, Blanchard didn’t come up with the idea; Cecile did.”

“Cecile?”

“Yes, Cecile. I spoke to one of Blanchard’s ex-employees, a man who worked alongside Cecile in her cousin’s shop. The man admitted—albeit grudgingly—that she was the best gunsmith working at Blanchard’s. He also said that Cecile was always working on improvements for the guns and that production quality soared during the few years she worked there. Before she began working there, Blanchard designs were decades behind other English gunmakers and the company was struggling. After Cecile had worked there only a year, Curtis made enough money to hire another six employees.”

Guy shook his head. “This is making less and less sense. She was making him money and yet he forced her to sell him the rights to her father’s designs and then closed the company?”

Blade nodded.

“So, what about this patent? Was it mentioned in the contract?”

“No.”

Guy frowned. “Are you telling me that Curtis stole the patent?”

“The employee said he thought Curtis tricked her out of it. He said—” She paused and cut him a look.

“What? Or is this another thing you won’t tell me?”

“No, this is something I’m guessing you won’t want to hear.”

“If it’s about Cecile, then I want to hear it.”

“He said he thought Cecile was in love with Curtis and the two were having an affair.”

Guy swallowed down the poisonous surge of jealousy that threatened to choke him and asked, “So, what did your informant think? That Blanchard used her affection to get her to sign?”

“Something like that.”