Page 53 of The Lost Duke of Wyndham

Grace gave him a look. One that was not difficult to interpret.

“Is it a sundial?” he asked, all innocence.

“What are you talking about?” the dowager grumbled, picking up a fork.

“No! Don’t ruin it!” he cried out—as best he could without exploding with laughter.

But she jabbed a slice of stewed apple all the same.

“How could you?” Jack accused.

Grace actually turned in her chair, unable to watch.

“What the devil are you talking about?” the dowager demanded. “Miss Eversleigh, why are you facing the window? What is he about?”

Grace twisted back around, hand over her mouth. “I’m sure I do not know.”

The dowager’s eyes narrowed. “I think you do know.”

“I assure you,” Grace said, “I never know what he is about.”

“Never?” Jack queried. “What a sweeping comment. We’ve only just met.”

“It feels like so much longer,” Grace said.

“Why,” he mused, “do I wonder if I have just been insulted?”

“If you’ve been insulted, you shouldn’t have to wonder at it,” the dowager said sharply.

Grace turned to her with some surprise. “That’s not what you said yesterday.”

“What did she say yesterday?” Mr. Audley asked.

“He is a Cavendish,” the dowager said simply. Which, to her, explained everything. But she apparently held little faith in Grace’s deductive abilities, and so she said, as one might speak to a child, “We are different.”

“The rules don’t apply,” Mr. Audley said with a shrug. And then, as soon as the dowager was looking away, he winked at Grace. “What did she say yesterday?” he asked again.

Grace was not sure she could adequately paraphrase, given that she was so at odds with the overall sentiment, but she couldn’t very well ignore his direct question twice, so she said, “That there is an art to insult, and if one can do it without the subject realizing, it’s even more impressive.”

She looked over to the dowager, waiting to see if she would be corrected. “It does not apply,” the dowager said archly, “when one is the subject of the insult.”

“Wouldn’t it still be art for the other person?” Grace asked.

“Of course not. And why should I care if it were?” The dowager sniffed disdainfully and turned back to her breakfast. “I don’t like this bacon,” she announced.

“Are your conversations always this oblique?” Mr. Audley asked.

“No,” Grace answered, quite honestly. “It has been a most exceptional two days.”

No one had anything to add to that, probably because they were all in such agreement. But Mr. Audley did fill the silence by turning to the dowager and saying, “I found the bacon to be superb.”

To that, the dowager replied, “Is Wyndham returned?”

“I don’t believe so,” Grace answered. She looked up to the footman. “Graham?”

“No, miss, he is not at home.”

The dowager pursed her lips into an expression of irritated discontent. “Very inconsiderate of him.”

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