Page 47 of Good Duke Gone Far

She snatched his gun and waved it in the air. Egan and George hit the floor. Quinn stood staring at her, unmoved. That was who he was. That was her Quinn. Steadfast. But it was too late. She resented that he had faltered and been the hotheaded one. There was only one space in a relationship with Kat for a hothead, and it was taken.

Gun waving, Kat shouted, “So this is how it’s done then, is it? Just bang there,” she pointed the gun at Egan lying on the floor. “And bang here.” She drove the barrel into Quinn’s chest. “And then everyone goes home happy?”

“You don’t scare me, Kat. Not anymore.”

“Well, I should. You should be scared to death.” She pulled the trigger.

Chapter 17

SHEKNEWNOTHINGWOULDhappen. The gun wasn’t loaded. That wasn’t the point. She was furious with him. He had gone and ruined everything. Made her fall in love with him. And then he disappointed her the first chance he got. He was not being the screw. He was being a blooming loose cannon. He was not holding anything together. He was destroying it. Taking a gun, and literally blowing it apart.

That’s why she had just wanted to marry a duke in the first place. Find someone completely settled and amenable to a marriage of convenience. Then she could do whatever she wanted. No strings attached. No expectations. No guilt. No nothing. No love.

If she were to even consider a future with Quinn, it all felt messy and muddled. But oh, how she wanted that sleuthing agency. Now that it was acknowledged verbally and put out there into the universe, it was manifesting in her mind. She wanted that kind of responsibility. That kind of rewarding obligation to help people and find the truth. Ha! Find the truth. If only she had started the agency earlier, she could have saved herself this trip and sent someone else on this foolish errand. Instead, she found herself tracking down the truth, finding love, and being disappointed all around.

How would she return to England? Who could she share this news with? There was no one she wanted to tell, except Quinn. Somehow over the past couple of days, he had finagled his way into her life. She had let him in. She never let anyone in.

And she hadn’t stopped letting him in. All she wanted was him in her. In every way. It was a most bedeviling problem to want someone that much and to resent them for the disappointment they’ve caused a heart to feel. The ache was real. She had kissed him. Made love to him. Loved him. Could love be so fleeting? There one day and gone the next? It didn’t feel real. But the ache was. It didn’t lie.

Damn him.

Men. She wanted to say she hated him in that moment. She couldn’t actually say it. But she wanted to.

And then an unexpected voice of reason spoke up. “Why a duke wants to masquerade as a colonel and go around dueling is beyond me.” And then she thought she heard him mumble, “One shot’s enough.”

Well, it sounded like a voice of reason, except she couldn’t make out the logic of what he was saying.

Quinn clasped his fingers around the barrel of the gun, “Give me that before you actually kill someone.”

“I was making a point,” she retorted.

“Consider it made.” He turned to Egan. “Now, what the blazes are you talking about?”

Egan put his hands up in mock defense. “I’m just saying that I don’t understand it myself. Why you’re introducing yourself as Colonel such and such when everyone knows you’re the duke.”

“Good god man, explain yourself.”

“You’re the Duke of Greyshire.”

***

QUINN’S HEAD WAS SLOSHING through the announcement. It made no sense. Duke of Greyshire. Him? He was no duke. He would know if he was a duke.

“Clearly you need a better source of information,” Kat piped up.

Quinn braced himself as he watched Egan put his hand up in the air, outstretched toward Kat. “Listen here, I may have…been a wee bit mistaken about Scarlet. Or Charlotte. There will be consequences, rest assured. But about this I’m certain. Colonel Quinn Hastford is the Duke of Greyshire. The former duke had no heirs and they had to look long and far into the bloodlines. If I recall, it was a distant cousin. But for some reason no one has been able to find him since his return to England. Too many parties is my guess.”

He wasn’t far off. Quinn had found himself tucked away in far too many house parties since his return home. But…wait…the solicitor he had brushed off the morning he chased after Kat…it couldn’t be…could it?

And the drunk at the tavern? All the subtle hints he had dropped? Maybe it all made sense once he put those pieces together. It seemed everyone around him knew except him. What did he know about being a duke? Next to nothing. For the first time, he could relate to what Davin must be feeling. There was going to be a load of responsibility added to his plate. Perhaps this was fate answering his quest for purpose. Either way, it was going to take significant time to adjust.

“It’s a smaller dukedom, to be sure. Though any dukedom is grand. But I’m sure I would know since we’re nearly neighbors.”

“I need to sit down. I need a drink.” Chair and glass were offered immediately. As if he were actually a duke and someone was catering to his every whim.

“I apologize about…the lady.” Quinn could hear the effort straining his words. What pride the giant must be swallowing twice in one day.

“Tell her.”

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