“I needed to speak with you before you see Lady Amelia.”
“Oh, then you know she is here?”
“I brought her,” he confirmed.
Grace silenced, her face showing her surprise. She glanced over at the mantel clock, which revealed the time to be still before noon.
“It is a long story,” he said preemptively. “But suffice it to say, Amelia will inform you that you were in Stamford this morning, and you invited her back to Belgrave.”
“Thomas, any number of people know quite well that I was not in Stamford this morning.”
“Yes, but her mother is not among that number.”
“Er, Thomas…” Grace began, sounding very much as if she was not certain how to proceed. “I feel I must tell you, given the number of delays thus far, I would imagine that Lady Crowland would be delighted to know-”
“Oh for God’s sake, it is nothing like that,” he muttered, half expecting her to cry out, “Despoiler of innocents!”
He ground his teeth together, not at all enjoying the singular experience of having to explain his actions to another human being. “She assisted me home when I was…impaired.”
“That was most charitable of her,” Grace said primly.
Thomas glared at her. She looked as if she were about to laugh.
Grace cleared her throat. “Have you, er, considered tidying up?”
“No,” he bit off, all sarcasm now, “I rather enjoy looking like a slovenly fool.”
She winced-audibly-at that.
“Now listen,” he continued, eager to bypass her embarrassment, “Amelia will repeat what I have told you, but it is imperative that you not tell her about Mr. Audley.” He nearly growled the last; it was difficult to utter his name without an accompanying wave of revulsion.
“I would never do that,” Grace replied. “It is not my place.”
“Good.” He’d known he could trust her.
“But she will want to know why you were, er…”
“You don’t know why,” he said firmly. “Just tell her that. Why would she suspect that you would know more?”
“She knows that I consider you a friend,” Grace said. “And furthermore, I live here. Servants always know everything. She knows that, too.”
“You’re not a servant,” he muttered.
“I am and you know it,” she replied, her lips twitching with amusement. “The only difference is that I am allowed to wear finer clothing and occasionally converse with the guests. But I assure you, I am privy to all of the household gossip.”
Good Lord, what went on in this house? Had any of his actions been private? Ever? Thomas turned his head and swore, and then, after taking a long, fortifying breath, looked back at her and said, “For me, Grace, will you please just tell her you don’t know?”
Soon Amelia would know everything, but he just didn’t want it to be today. He was too tired to make explanations, too worn-out from his own shock to deal with hers, and beyond that…
For the first time in his life he was glad she was his fiancée. Surely no one would begrudge him the desire to hold onto that for a few more days.
“Of course,” Grace said, not quite looking at him. And then, because she had been brought up to look people in the eye, she met his gaze and added, “You have my word.”
He nodded. “Amelia will be expecting you,” he said gruffly.
“Yes. Yes, of course.” She hurried to the door, then stopped and turned around. “Will you be all right?”
What a question.
“No, don’t answer that,” she mumbled, and dashed from the room.
Amelia waited patiently in the silver drawing room, trying not to tap her toes while she waited for Grace. Then she realized that she was drumming her fingers, which was an even worse habit (according to her mother), so she forced herself to stop that.
Her toes immediately started tapping again.
She let out a long breath and decided she didn’t care. There was no one here to see her, anyway, and despite what her mother insisted, toe tapping was not a bad habit when done in private. As opposed to chewing one’s fingernails (which she would never do), which left one stubby and unkempt, all ’round the clock.
She’d tried to explain the difference to Milly, who could sit still as stone for six hours straight but hadn’t seen the whites of her nails for years. Milly had declared herself quite unable to detect the distinction. For purely selfish reasons, of course.
Amelia examined her own nails, which she noticed looked not quite as clean as usual. Probably from hauling Wyndham across Stamford. Heaven only knew what sort of dirt he’d been rolling about in. She supposed he was upstairs now, cleaning up. She’d never seen him look so untidy. She rather thought he’d never been so untidy. And, in fact-
Was that him? Striding past the doorway? She jumped up. “Thomas? Is that-”
The gentleman stopped, turned, and then Amelia realized that it was someone else. He was of a similar height and coloring, but she had never seen him before, of that she was quite certain. He was tall, although not awkwardly so, and his hair was perhaps a shade or two darker than Thomas’s. And his cheek was bruised.
How interesting.
“I’m so sorry,” she said hastily. But she was curious, and so she stepped toward the door. If she moved in his direction, he could not continue on his way without being unforgivably rude.
“Sorry to disappoint,” the gentleman said, smiling at her in a most flirtatious fashion. Amelia felt rather pleased despite herself. She wondered if he knew who she was. Probably not. Who would dare flirt with the Duke of Wyndham’s fiancée in his own house?
“No,” she said quickly, “of course not. It was my mistake. I was just sitting back there.” She motioned behind her. “You looked rather like the duke as you walked by.”
Indeed, the two gentlemen even shared the same stride. How odd. Amelia had not realized that she could recognize Thomas’s walk, but the moment she’d seen this man, she immediately realized that they moved in the same way.
He swept into a gracious bow. “Captain Jack Audley, at your service, ma’am.”
She bobbed a polite curtsy. “Lady Amelia Willoughby.”
“Wyndham’s fiancée.”
“You know him, then? Oh, well, of course you do. You are a guest here.” Then she recalled their conversation back at the Happy Hare. “Oh, you must be his fencing partner.”
Captain Audley stepped forward. “He told you about me?”
“Not much,” she admitted, trying not to look at the bruise on his cheek. It could not be a coincidence that both he and Thomas showed signs of an altercation.
“Ah, this,” Captain Audley murmured. He looked somewhat embarrassed as he touched his fingers to his cheek. “It looks much worse than it actually is.”
She was trying to figure out the best way to ask him about it when he added, in a most conversational tone, “Tell me, Lady Amelia, what color is it today?”
“Your cheek?” she asked, surprised by his forthrightness.
“Indeed. Bruises tend to look worse as they age, have you noticed? Yesterday it was quite purple, almost regally so, with a hint of blue in it. I haven’t checked in the mirror lately.” He turned his head, offering her a better view. “Is it still as attractive?”
Amelia stared at him in awe, unsure of what to say. She had never met anyone quite so glib. It had to be a talent.
“Er, no,” she finally replied, since it made absolutely no sense to lie when he was within ten feet of a mirror. “I would not call it attractive.”
He laughed. “No mincing words for you, eh?”
“I’m afraid those blue undertones of which you were so proud have gone a bit green.” She smiled, rather pleased with her analysis.
He leaned in, smiling wickedly. “To match my eyes?”
“No,” she said, finding herself quite immune to his charms, although she did recognize them to be legion, indeed. The man probably had women falling at his feet at every turn. “Not with the purple overlaying it,” she explained. “It looks quite horrible.”
“Purple mixed with green makes…?”
“Quite a mess.”
He laughed again. “You are charming, Lady Amelia. But I am sure your fiancé tells you that on every possible occasion.”
She was not quite certain how to reply to that. Certainly not every possible occasion. But today had been different. Better.
“Do you await him here?” the captain asked.
“No, I just-” She caught herself before she said that she’d just seen Thomas. She had never been good at telling tales. “I am here to see Miss Eversleigh.”
Something intriguing flickered in his eyes, so she asked, “Have you met Miss Eversleigh?”
“Indeed I have. She is most lovely.”
“Yes,” Amelia said. Everyone thought so, didn’t they? She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth just long enough to hide the fact that she wanted to frown, and added, “She is universally admired.”
“Are you and Miss Eversleigh acquaintances?” the captain asked.
“Yes. I mean, no. More than that, I should say. I have known Grace since childhood. She is most friendly with my elder sister.”
“And surely with you, as well.”
“Of course.” Amelia dipped her chin in acknowledgment. To do anything else would imply that Grace was less than gracious, which would be a falsehood. It was not Grace’s fault that Thomas held her in such high esteem. And this gentleman, too, if his interest was any indication. “But more so with my sister. They are of an age, you see.”
“Ah, the plight of the younger sibling,” he murmured sympathetically.
Amelia looked at him with interest. “You share the experience?”
“Not at all,” he said with a grin. “I was the one ignoring the hangers-on. I was the eldest of the brood. A fortuitous position, I think. I should have been most unhappy not to have been in charge.”
Amelia understood that well. She’d often thought she was a different person with Elizabeth than she was with Milly. “I am the second of five,” she said, “so I can appreciate your sentiments as well.”
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