Page 71 of The Duchess Games

It hit the hem of her silk gown and landed on her delicate slipper.

The dowager yelped. It made her sound almost human. She clearly did not like it.

Cat was both mortified, and desperate to laugh. It bubbled in her throat, threateningly. She swallowed. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” she croaked.

The dowager kicked her foot out with the full displeasure of her aristocratic ancestors. The potato went flying. Percival barked his delight and chased after it.

Cat bit down on her lip very, very hard.

The look Callum shot her when he came back down a step, eyes widening, stern eyebrows lifting straight into his hair, did not help.

Not one bit.

Through the sheer force of her will, the giggle didn’t escape until the dowager had huffed and marched back upstairs, calling for her lady’s maid.

Cat dissolved into laughter, followed by a case of violent hiccups.

Morgen shook her head. “And I thought Little Crumpet was madness.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Morning pleasure and laughing fits aside, Cat had work to do.

Callum might be able to force change through Parliament, but she could not. She had one avenue open her and she meant to take it. With both hands.

Whatever else it might say about her character.

About any chance of happiness with Callum.

She wasn’t naïve. A duke would never marry her. But they could be a little bit happy, for a while, in secret. Until she ruined it.

At this very moment.

Here she was, back in Callum’s library. The ring was right there on his desk. She couldn’t very well steal it again. It would be far too obvious. But she still needed it.

She’d written several letters, vague but with the authority of a duke behind them they would do. More than do. They would get her people where they needed to go. Her cargo might make it to Bristol, Nottingham, London. Wherever it needed to go.

She risked lighting the candle to melt the red wax, sitting with it on the floor, under his desk. It was late enough that no one would come wandering by. She dropped the wax on the folded parchment—also stolen from his desk as any paper she might afford would clearly not be good enough quality for a duke. She pressed the seal in, waited a moment and then lifted the ring away. She did it several more times and then blew out the wick. She slipped the letters in the pocket of her dress, grateful for the out-of-date thickness of the fabric. Muslin would never hide it so well.

The dark quiet library was soothing, now that she had covered her tracks. It was Callum’s space and it screamed his quiet competence, his power. Books lined the walls, a tray of crystal glasses and a decanter of whisky, piles of correspondence. She sat back on the windowsill, enjoying the quiet, watching the hawk fluff her feathers in her nest at the corner of the roof. Her thoughts were racing, details being organized in her brain, plans in case the first plans failed. But here, with the books and the wild birds and the smell of Callum’s cologne, it might all just be manageable.

When the door creaked open slowly and Callum leaned in the doorway, part of her was not surprised. The man always seemed to know where she was. How to find her. How to draw her from the whirlpool of worry when it threatened to overwhelm her. She turned her head, smiling. “Hello, Your Grace.”

“Little thief.”

She would not wince at the endearment. He was playing a different game than she was. He was unfairly handsome, filling the room with his presence before he’d even stepped inside. Capable, strong, powerful. With that little half-smile he guarded like gold. She wanted to steal it away, as much as she wanted salt and brandy and contraband lace.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked.

She decided she would not lie, would not apologize. She leaned her temple against the cool glass. “I’m watching the hawk. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he replied, closing the door behind him. The shadows enveloped them, comforting, touched by the light of the torches in the garden. “I’m sure we can find a better vantage point for your birdwatching.”

“I like it here,” she said simply.

“I like you here.”

Another moment outside time, outside of their lives. Where consequences didn’t loom on the horizon. Just Callum, just her.