Page 13 of One Night to Remember
Giles blinked.
Stable Lass smiled.
“You have got to be bamming me.” Giles stepped backward in disbelief. Stable Lass was the duke’ssister?
“No bamming,” the duke assured him. “In fact, there are several new rules I expect both of you to follow.”
“No rules,” Miss Lass—er, Lady Felicity—said at once.
Colehaven ignored the interruption. “No one knows my carriages better than my sister.”
Giles opened his mouth.
“Not even you,” the duke said as the cat hung from his waistcoat by its claws. “Any concern of Felicity’s, no matter how small, must be treated with prompt and thorough consideration.”
Giles opened his mouth wider.
“During this temporary working relationship,” the duke continued without pausing, “you are to treat her as a peer.”
“Your mechanicoutranks me,” Giles pointed out. “She’sLadyFelicity.”
His mind still hadn’t managed to grasp it.
“Not that kind of peer,” Colehaven said. “Yourpeer. Her insights and intelligence should be treated with the same respect you would give the man who taught you everything you know about carriages.”
“I changed my mind,” Lady Felicity said. “I like your rules.”
Giles did not. Even if he attempted to follow them to the letter, there was no chance of any person being equal to Giles’s father. It was the real reason he refused to consider a partner. He’d never met someone whose skills deserved partnering with. Giles’s fingers clenched.
He’d been working on carriages from the moment he was old enough to toddle behind his father in the family smithy. Giles lived and breathed carriages every moment of every day. It wasn’t a passion. It was an obsession. A way to be extraordinary.
And after working his entire life to be the absolute best at what he did, some rich debutante expected to be his master on a whim?
He ground his teeth in frustration.
“Next.” The duke turned to his sister. “Felicity.”
“Don’t you think those are enough rules?” she asked. “Definitely enough rules.”
“Two more,” Colehaven said, unsmiling. “There will be no more future projects. After this race, you must leave the smithing to the blacksmiths and high society to the society ladies.”
“Meaning me,” she said without rancor. “I am a society lady. You’re right. That’s the future I want and the only competition I should be trying to win. This race shall be my swan song.”
She didn’t look like a society lady. She looked like trouble. Soft dark hair, big brown eyes, heavy crowbar…
“Lastly.” The duke turned toward Giles. “Because of our long relationship, I am trusting you to keep my sister’s secret. If you breathe the slightest hint of the truth to anyone else, or treat her as anything other than a respected associate…” Colehaven’s eyes turned deadly. “I will destroy you.”
Giles jerked his shoulders back, insulted. “I am a professional and know how to act like one, Your Grace.”
“Splendid.” The duke tried and failed to separate the kitten from what had once been a stylish lapel. “In exchange for your time, efforts, and unparalleled expertise with carriages, you’ll receive a bank draft for one hundred pounds. And another two hundred for your permanent discretion regarding your gracious temporary partnership with my sister.”
One temporary partner.
Two short weeks.
Three hundred quid.
“I agree,” Giles managed. Being dictated to by his “betters” chafed. But for that amount of money, he would swallow his pride and allow them to treat him like “just some blacksmith” for the next fortnight.
