Page 169 of The Dueling Duchess

“Do you think she has hurt him?” Cat asked, her brow furrowed with anxiety.

Helen smiled at the little girl. “I doubt it.”

“Or at least not much,” Jo was unable to resist adding, smirking at the other woman when Helen gave her a chiding look.

Angus gently nipped her ear, and she lifted her hand to rub the back of his neck. Jo knew from experience that if she didn’t heed his demand, his nips would get progressively less gentle.

“How long have they been in there?” Jo asked.

“Almost five hours,” Helen said. “Do you think we should let them out?”

“Yes, should we?” Cat asked.

Jo shrugged. “What’s the rush?”

They both goggled at that.

“I’m not jesting,” Jo said. “If they’re quiet and haven’t demanded to be let out, you might want to just leave them in there.”

Cat still looked anxious, but Helen’s cheeks turned a bright pink.

“Er, I expect Blade is correct, Cat. Let’s go have a cup of tea and come back in a half hour.”

“I should think an hour would be better,” Jo advised, thinking back to the trip through France when Cecile and Guy had often not come out of the caravan they’d shared for days on end.

“Priests of the raven,” Angus muttered.

“What did he say?” Cat demanded, looking at Angus with a worshipful expression that was bound to go to the raven’s head.

“It’s his favorite part of a poem. For obvious reasons,” she added.

“Angus knows poetry?” Cat asked, forgetting all about her two favorite people locked in the counting room.

“He only remembers the parts he likes. Isn’t that true, Angus? Do you like Byron?” she asked him.

He stopped his purring long enough to say, “Raven tress.”

Helen laughed, delighted. “That’s from ‘She Walks in Beauty.’ Do you read them to him?”

“No, I don’t care for poetry; he reads them himself.”

Both Helen and Cat gaped at her.

Jo snorted; people really would believe anything.

Helen clucked her tongue. “Shame on you, you fibber. I can’t believe I believed you.”

“Neither can I.”

“May we read the poem, Helen?” Cat asked her governess.

“Er, well, perhaps not yet,” she demurred, ushering the little girl toward the kitchen. “You’ll stay for tea, won’t you?” she asked Jo over her shoulder.

“Yes, I actually needed to talk to you.” Jo waited until Cat had skipped ahead with her dog to say, “I understand you’ll be taking over from Cecile?”

“How did you know that? We only just spoke of it a few days ago.”

Jo ignored the question. “I wanted to let you know that I have some money saved up.”