Julia Quinn - The Lost Duke of Wyndham

Lady Amelia turned to Grace as best she could, considering that they were wedged up against one another. “That was very kind of you, Grace.”

Grace grunted something that was probably meant to be a response.

“We plan to avoid cupids,” Jack said.

“Cupids?” Lady Amelia echoed.

Grace looked the other way.

“I have discovered that I am not fond of them.”

Lady Amelia regarded him with a curious mixture of irritation and disbelief.

Jack glanced at Grace to gauge her reaction, then returned his attention to Lady Amelia. “I can see that you disagree, Lady Amelia.”

“What is there not to like about cupids?”

He perched himself on the arm of the opposite sofa. “You don’t find them rather dangerous?”

“Chubby little babies?”

“Carrying deadly weapons,” he reminded her.

“They are not real arrows.”

He made another attempt to draw Grace into the conversation. “What do you think, Miss Eversleigh?”

“I don’t often think about cupids,” she said tersely.

“And yet we have already discussed them twice, you and I.”

“Because you brought them up.”

Jack turned to Lady Amelia. “My dressing room is positively awash in them.”

Lady Amelia turned to Grace. “You were in his dressing room?”

“Not with him,” Grace practically snapped. “But I have certainly seen it before.”

Jack smiled to himself, wondering what it said about him that he so liked making trouble.

“Pardon,” Grace muttered, clearly embarrassed by her outburst.

“Mr. Audley,” Lady Amelia said, turning to him with determination.

“Lady Amelia.”

“Would it be rude if Miss Eversleigh and I took a turn about the room?”

“Of course not,” he said, even though he could see in her face that in fact she did think it was rude. But he did not mind. If the ladies wished to share confidences, he was not going to stand in their way. Besides, he enjoyed watching Grace move.

“Thank you for your understanding,” Lady Amelia said, linking her arm through Grace’s and pulling them both to their feet. “I do feel the need to stretch my legs, and I fear that your stride would be far too brisk for a lady.”

How she uttered that without choking on her tongue, he did not know. But he merely smiled and watched them as they moved as one to the window, leaving him behind and out of earshot.

Grace let Amelia set the pace, and as soon as they were across the room, Amelia began whispering urgently about the events of the morning, and then about Thomas having needed her assistance, and then something about her mother.

Grace just nodded, her eyes constantly darting toward the door. Thomas would be there at any moment, and although she had no idea what she might do to prevent what would surely be a disastrous encounter, she could not possibly think of anything else.

Meanwhile, Amelia kept on whispering. Grace had just enough presence of mind to catch the end, when Amelia said: “…I beg of you not to contradict.”

“Of course not,” Grace said quickly, because surely Amelia had made the same request Thomas had minutes earlier. If not, then she had no idea what she was agreeing to when she added, “You have my word.”

At that point, Grace wasn’t sure she cared.

They continued walking, lapsing into silence as they promenaded past Mr. Audley, who gave them a rather knowing nod and a smile as they went by.

“Miss Eversleigh,” he murmured. “Lady Amelia.”

“Mr. Audley,” Amelia returned. Grace managed the same, but her voice was unpleasant and croaky.

Amelia began whispering again once they were well past Mr. Audley, but just then Grace heard heavy footsteps in the hall. She twisted about to see, but it was only a footman, passing by with a trunk.

Grace swallowed. Oh, dear heavens, the dowager was already beginning to pack for their trip to Ireland, and Thomas did not even know of her plans. How could she have forgotten to tell him during their interview?

And then she became aware of Amelia, whom she’d somehow managed to forget, even though their arms were linked. “Sorry,” she said quickly, since she suspected it was her turn to speak. “Did you say something?”

Amelia shook her head and said, “No.” Grace was fairly certain this was a lie, but she was not inclined to argue.

And then…more footsteps in the hall.

“Excuse me,” Grace said, unable to bear the suspense for one moment longer. She pulled away and hurried to the open doorway. Several more servants were passing by, all clearly in preparations for the upcoming journey to Ireland. Grace returned to Amelia’s side and once again took her arm. “It wasn’t the duke.”

“Is someone going somewhere?” Amelia asked, watching as two footmen passed the doorway, one with a trunk and another with a hatbox.

“No,” Grace said. But she hated lying, and she was terrible at it, so she added, “Well, I suppose someone might be, but I do not know about it.”

Which was also a lie. Wonderful. She looked at Amelia and tried to smile cheerfully.

“Grace,” Amelia said quietly, looking terribly concerned, “are you all right?”

“Oh, no…I mean, yes, I’m quite fine.” She tried for the cheerful smile again, and suspected she did a worse job of it than before.

“Grace,” Amelia whispered, her voice taking on a new and rather unsettlingly sly tone, “are you in love with Mr. Audley?”

“No!” Oh, good heavens, that was loud. Grace looked over at Mr. Audley. Not that she’d wanted to, but they’d just turned a corner and were facing him again, and she couldn’t avoid it. His face was tilted slightly down, but she could see him looking up at her, rather bemused. “Mr. Audley,” she said, because with him watching her, it seemed she should acknowledge him, even if he was too far away to hear.

But then, as soon as she had the opportunity, she turned back to Amelia, furiously whispering, “I’ve only just met him. Yesterday. No, the day before.” Oh, she was a ninny. She shook her head and looked firmly in front of her. “I can’t recall.”

“You’ve been meeting many intriguing gentlemen lately,” Amelia commented.

Grace turned to her sharply. “Whatever can you mean?”

“Mr. Audley…” Amelia teased. “The Italian highwayman.”

“Amelia!”

“Oh, that’s right, you said he was Scottish. Or Irish. You weren’t certain.” Amelia’s brow scrunched in thought. “Where is Mr. Audley from? He has a bit of lilt as well.”

“I do not know,” Grace ground out. Where was Thomas? She dreaded his arrival, but the anticipation of it was worse.

And then Amelia-good heavens, why?-called out, “Mr. Audley!”

Grace turned and looked at a wall.

“Grace and I were wondering where you are from,” Amelia said. “Your accent is unfamiliar to me.”

“Ireland, Lady Amelia, a bit north of Dublin.”

“Ireland!” Amelia exclaimed. “My goodness, you are far afield.”

They’d finished circling the room, but Grace remained standing even after Amelia had disengaged herself and sat down. Then Grace moved toward the door as subtly as she was able.

“How are you enjoying Lincolnshire, Mr. Audley?” she heard Amelia ask.

“I find it most surprising.”

“Surprising?”

Grace peered out into the hall, still half listening to the conversation behind her.

“My visit here has not been what I expected,” Mr. Audley said, and Grace could well imagine his amused smile as he said that.

“Really?” Amelia responded. “What did you expect? I assure you, we are quite civilized in this corner of England.”

“Very much so,” he murmured. “More so than is my preference, as a matter of fact.”

“Why, Mr. Audley,” Amelia responded, “whatever can that mean?”

If he made a reply, Grace did not hear it. Just then she saw Thomas coming down the hall, all tidied up and looking like a duke again.

“Oh,” she said, the word slipping from her lips. “Excuse me.” She hurried into the hall, waving madly toward Thomas so as not to alert Amelia and Mr. Audley to her distress.

“Grace,” he said, moving forward with great purpose, “what is the meaning of this? Penrith told me that Amelia was here to see me?”

He did not slow as he approached, and Grace realized he meant for her to fall in step beside him. “Thomas, wait,” she said with hushed urgency, and she grabbed his arm and yanked him to a halt.

He turned to her, one of his brows rising into a haughty arch.

“It’s Mr. Audley,” she said, pulling him back even farther from the door. “He is in the drawing room.”

Thomas glanced toward the drawing room and then back at Grace, clearly not comprehending.

“With Amelia,” she practically hissed.

All traces of his unflappable exterior vanished. “What the hell?” he cursed. He looked sharply back toward the drawing room, not that he could possibly have seen inside from his vantage point. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Grace said, her voice snapping with irritation. Why would she know why? “He was in there when I arrived. Amelia said she saw him walking by the doorway and thought he was you.”

His body shuddered. Visibly. “What did he say?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there. And then I couldn’t very well interrogate her in his presence.”

“No, of course not.”

Grace waited in silence for him to say more. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, and he looked rather as if his head were aching. Trying to offer some sort of not unpleasant news, she said, “I’m quite sure that he did not reveal his…”

Oh, good heavens. How was she to put it?

“…identity to her,” she finished with a wince.

Thomas gave her a thoroughly awful look.

“It is not my fault, Thomas,” she retorted.