The way he was smiling at Grace.

The way he was-good heavens, was he laughing? She had never heard him laugh, never even seen him do so from across a room.

Her lips parted with shock and perhaps just a touch of dismay. It seemed she did know something of substance about her fiancé.

He was in love with Grace Eversleigh.

Oh, wonderful.

There was no waltzing at the Lincolnshire Dance and Assembly-it was still considered “fast” by the matrons who organized the quarterly gathering. Thomas thought this a pity. He had no interest in the seductive nature of the dance-he never had occasion to waltz with anyone he intended to seduce. But waltzing did afford the opportunity to converse with one’s partner. Which would have been a damned sight easier than a word here and a sentence there as he and Grace went through the convoluted motions of the country dance.

“Are you trying to make her jealous?” Grace asked, smiling in a manner that he might have considered flirtatious if he did not know her so well.

“Don’t be absurd.”

Except that by then she was crossing arms with a local squire. Thomas bit back an aggravated grunt and waited until she returned to his side. “Don’t be absurd,” he said again.

Grace cocked her head to the side. “You’ve never danced with me before.”

This time he waited an appropriate moment before replying, “When have I had occasion to dance with you?”

Grace stepped back and bobbed, as required by the dance, but he did see her nod her head in acknowledgment. He rarely attended the local assembly, and although Grace did accompany his grandmother when she traveled to London, she was only rarely included in evening outings. Even then, she sat at the side, with the chaperones and companions.

They moved to the head of the line, he took her hand for their olevette, and they walked down the center aisle, the gentlemen to their right, the ladies to their left.

“You’re angry,” Grace said.

“Not at all.”

“Pricked pride.”

“Just for a moment,” he admitted.

“And now?”

He did not respond. He did not have to. They had reached the end of the line and had to take their places at opposite sides of the aisle. But when they came together for a brief clap, Grace said, “You did not answer my question.”

They stepped back, then together, and he leaned down and murmured, “I like to be in charge.”

She looked as if she might like to laugh at that.

He gave her a lazy grin, and when he had the opportunity to speak again, asked, “Are you so very surprised?”

He bowed, she twirled, and then she said, her eyes flashing mischievously, “You never surprise me.”

Thomas laughed at that, and when they met once again for a bow and twirl, he leaned in and replied, “I never try to.”

Which only made Grace roll her eyes.

She was a good sport, Grace was. Thomas doubted that his grandmother had been looking for anything more than a warm body that knew how to say “Yes, ma’am” and “Of course, ma’am” when she’d hired her companion, but she had chosen well all the same. It was a bonus, too, that Grace was a daughter of the district, orphaned several years earlier when her parents had caught a fever. Her father had been a country squire, and both he and his wife were well-liked. As a result, Grace was already familiar with all of the local families, and indeed friendly with most. Which had to be an advantage in her current position.

Or at least Thomas assumed so. Most of the time he tried to stay out of his grandmother’s way.

The music trickled to a close, and he allowed himself a glance at the red curtain. Either his fiancée had departed or she’d become a bit more skilled in the art of concealment.

“You should be nicer to her,” Grace said as she accepted his escort from the dance floor.

“She cut me,” he reminded her.

Grace merely shrugged. “You should be nicer to her,” she said again. She curtsied then, and departed, leaving Thomas on his own, never an attractive prospect at a gathering such as this.

He was an affianced gentleman, and, more to the point, this was a local assembly and his intended bride was well known to all. Which should have meant that those who might envision their daughters (or sisters or nieces) as his duchess would leave well enough alone. But alas, Lady Amelia did not provide complete protection from his neighbors. As well as she was liked (and as best as he could tell, she was, quite), no self-respecting mama could neglect to entertain the notion that something might go awry with the engagement, and the duke might find himself unattached, and he might need to find himself a bride.

Or so he was told. He wasn’t generally privy to such whispers. (For which he assiduously thanked his maker.)

And while there were citizens of Lincolnshire who were not in possession of an unattached daughter/sister/niece, there was always someone looking to curry his favor. It was damnably tiring. He’d have given his arm-well, maybe a toe-for just one day in which no one said something to him because it was what they thought he wished to hear.

There were quite a few benefits to being a duke, but honesty from one’s companions was not among them.

Which was why, when Grace abandoned him at the edge of the small dance floor, he immediately strode toward the door.

A door, to be more precise. It didn’t particularly matter which. He just wanted out.

Twenty seconds later he was breathing the crisp air of the Lincolnshire night, pondering the rest of the evening. He’d planned to go home; he’d actually been looking forward to a quiet evening before his grandmother ambushed him with her plans for the assembly.

But now he was thinking that a visit to Stamford might be more in order. Celeste would be there, his own private widow-very intelligent and very discreet. Their arrangement suited both of them perfectly. He brought gifts-lovely tokens that she could use to supplement the tidy house and modest income her husband had left for her. And she provided companionship with no expectation of fidelity.

Thomas paused for a moment to get his bearings. A small tree, a birdbath, and what appeared to be an over-pruned rosebush…he’d apparently not exited through the door that led to the street. Ah, yes, the garden. With a slight frown, he glanced over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if one could actually reach the street without reentering the assembly hall, but-at this point he could have sworn he heard someone shrill his name, followed by the words daughter, must, and introduce-by God, he was going to try.

Thomas made his way around the birdbath, intending to round the corner of the building, but just as he passed the abused rosebush, he thought he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye.

He didn’t mean to look. The lord knew he didn’t want to look. Looking could only lead to inconvenience. There was nothing more untidy than finding someone where he (or more often, she) was not supposed to be. But of course he looked, because that was simply how his evening was progressing.

He looked, and then he wished he hadn’t.

“Your grace.”

It was Lady Amelia, most assuredly where she was not supposed to be.

He stared at her forbiddingly, deciding how to approach this.

“It was stuffy inside,” she said, coming to her feet. She’d been sitting on a stone bench, and her dress-well, truth be told, he couldn’t recall what color her dress was, and in the moonlight he certainly couldn’t tell for sure. But it seemed to blend in with the surroundings, which was probably why he hadn’t noticed her right away.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was that she was outside, by herself.

And she belonged to him.

Really, this would not do.

It would have been a far grander exit had Amelia been able to sweep out of the assembly hall and leave the premises entirely, but there was the pesky matter of her sister. And her other sister. And her mother. And her father, although she was fairly certain he would have been happy to follow her right out the door, if not for those other three Willoughbys, all of whom were still having a grand time.

So Amelia had made her way to the side of the assembly hall, where she could wait for her family to tire of the festivities on a small stone bench. No one came out this way. It wasn’t in the garden proper, and as the purpose of the assembly was to see and be seen-well, a dusty old bench didn’t really advance the cause.

But it wasn’t too chilly, and the stars were out, which at least provided something to look at, although with her abysmal talents at spotting constellations, this was only likely to keep her busy for a few minutes.

But she did find the Big Dipper, and from there the little one, or at least what she thought was the little one. She found three groupings that might have been bears-really, whoever had devised these things must have had a liking for the abstract-and over there was something she could have sworn was a church steeple.

Not that there were any steeply constellations. But still.

She shifted her position-better to get a look at the sparkly blob off to the north that might, with enough imagination, prove itself an oddly shaped chamber pot-but before she could squeeze her eyes into a proper squint, she heard the unmistakable sound of someone tromping through the garden.

Coming her way.

Oh, bother. Her kingdom for a private moment. She never got any at home, and now it appeared she wasn’t safe here, either.

She held herself still, waiting for her intruder to leave the area, and then-

It couldn’t be.

But of course it was.