Page 102 of The Lost Duke of Wyndham

Love. With a capital L and swirly script and hearts and flowers and whatever else the angels—and yes, all those annoying little cupids—wished to use for embellishment.

Love. It could be nothing else. He saw Grace and he felt joy. Not just his joy, but everyone’s. The stranger seated behind him. The acquaintance across the room. He saw it all. He felt it all.

It was amazing. Humbling. Grace looked at him, and he was a better man.

And she thought he would allow anyone to keep them apart.

It would not happen. He would not let it happen.

Throughout breakfast she did not precisely avoid him—there were far too many shared glances and secret smiles for that. But she had been careful not to seek him out, and indeed, he’d not had an opportunity to speak with her even once. He probably wouldn’t have been able to do so even if Grace was not so inclined to be circumspect; Amelia slipped her hand in Grace’s right after breakfast and did not let go.

Safety in numbers, Jack decided. The two ladies were stuck in the coach all day with the dowager. He would have been blindly reaching for a hand if forced to endure the same.

The three gentlemen rode on horseback, taking advantage of the fine weather. Lord Crowland decided to take a seat in the carriage after their first stop to water the horses, but thirty minutes later he was staggering back out, declaring the ride far less exhausting than the dowager.

“You would abandon your daughter to the dowager’s venom?” Jack asked mildly.

Crowland did not even try to make excuses. “I did not say I was proud of myself.”

“The Outer Hebrides,” Thomas said, trotting by. “I’m telling you, Audley, it’s the key to your happiness. The Outer Hebrides.”

“The Outer Hebrides?” Crowland echoed, looking from man to man for explanation.

“Almost as far as the Orkneys,” Thomas said cheerfully. “And much more fun to say.”

“Have you holdings there?” Crowland asked.

“Not yet,” Thomas replied. He looked over at Jack. “Perhaps you can restore a nunnery. Something with insurmountable walls.”

Jack found himself enjoying the mental picture. “How have you lived with her for so long?” he asked.

Thomas shook his head. “I have no idea.”

They were talking as if it were already decided, Jack realized. They were talking as if he had already been named the duke. And Thomas did not seem to mind. If anything, he appeared to be looking forward to his imminent dispossession.

Jack looked back at the carriage. Grace had insisted that she could not marry him if he was the duke. And yet, he could not imagine doing it without her. He was unprepared for the duties that came with the title. Astoundingly so. But she knew what to do, didn’t she? She’d lived at Belgrave for five years. She had to know how the place was run. She knew the name of every last servant, and as far as he could tell, their birthdays, too.

She was kind. She was gracious. She was innately fair, of impeccable judgment, and far more intelligent than he.

He could not imagine a more perfect duchess.

But he did not want to be the duke.

He truly didn’t.

He’d gone over it in his mind countless times, reminding himself of all of the reasons why he’d make a very bad Duke of Wyndham, but had he ever actually come out and said it plainly?

He did not want to be the duke.

He looked over at Thomas, who was looking up at the sun, shading his eyes with his hand.

“It must be past noon,” Lord Crowland said. “Shall we stop for lunch?”

Jack shrugged. It did not matter to him.

“For the sake of the ladies,” Crowland said.

As one, they turned and looked over their shoulders toward the carriage.

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