The Duke at Hazard (The Gentlemen of Uncertain Fortune #2)

by K.J. Charles

‘You don’t travel much,’ Daizell agreed. ‘Could be worse, friend,’ one of the men opposite said, jovially, and went on to make that a self-fulfilling prophecy by launching into a rambling anecdote.

It was two stages to the Blue Boar at Worcester, through which the dull man talked without pause, mercy, or, as far as Daizell could see, breathing.

Cassian was delightful when he was flustered. Daizell felt an overwhelming urge to fluster him some more.

He wanted Cassian as close as he could be, because when he was close the world was a warm, soothing, easy place. He wanted to show his enchanting but oddly uncertain bard that he was entirely enchanted.

He returned to the Spread Eagle inn

KJ just throwing this in here lololol

‘I’ve never broken anyone’s nose,’ Cassian managed. ‘You seem to make a habit of it.’ ‘Once. I’ve done it once,’ Daizell said indignantly. ‘Or twice, I suppose, if you count that prick in the crash.’ ‘How could you not count him? You broke his nose!’

He knew perfectly well it was too much to ask of life. Unfortunately, that knowledge didn’t stop him hoping. He always hoped. He wished he could stop.

‘You couldn’t just say who you are?’ ‘No! I couldn’t! I was incognito!’ ‘So? What, if there’s Latin involved, it’s not a lie?’

My uncle likes to say, if the truth shames you, the fault lies with you, not with the truth.’

‘I think you mean to say, asserting the natural authority of my position.’ ‘Swinging your duke around.’ Cassian gave a yelp of startled laughter.

‘Stop. I cannot countenance violent retribution, Lady Wintour.’ ‘Oh, come off it!’ Loxleigh said furiously. ‘Uh, that is—’ ‘No. I must decline to witness any such thing.’ Cassian gave it a couple of seconds, as Sir Francis and Sir James shot him looks of desperate hope, and concluded, ‘So let me leave the room before you start.’