Page 24 of The Lost Duke of Wyndham

His voice was soft, almost thoughtful, and it cut to the bone. The dowager turned sharply toward the window, and Grace searched her face for something—anything—that might have shown her humanity, but she remained stiff and hard, and her voice betrayed no emotion when she said, “We are almost home.”

They were turning down the drive, passing the very spot where Grace had seen him earlier that afternoon.

“So you are,” the highwayman said, glancing out the window.

“You will come to regard it as home,” the dowager stated, her voice imperious and exacting and, more than anything else, final.

He did not respond. But he didn’t need to. They all knew what he was thinking.

Never.

Chapter Five

Lovely house,” Jack said, as he was led—hands still bound—through the grand entrance of Belgrave. He turned to the old lady. “Did you decorate? It has that woman’s touch.”

Miss Eversleigh was trailing behind, but he could hear her choke back a bubble of laughter.

“Oh, let it out, Miss Eversleigh,” he called over his shoulder. “Much better for your constitution.”

“This way,” the dowager ordered, motioning for him to follow her down the hall.

“Should I obey, Miss Eversleigh?”

She did not reply, smart girl that she was. But he was far too furious for circumspect sympathy, so he took his insolence one step further. “Yoo-hoo! Miss Eversleigh! Did you hear me?”

“Of course she heard you,” the dowager snapped angrily.

Jack paused, cocking his head as he regarded the dowager. “I thought you were overjoyed to make my acquaintance.”

“I am,” she bit off.

“Hmmm.” He turned to Miss Eversleigh, who had caught up to them during the exchange. “I don’t think she sounds overjoyed, Miss Eversleigh. Do you?”

Miss Eversleigh’s eyes darted from him to her employer and back before she said, “The dowager duchess is most eager to accept you into her family.”

“Well said, Miss Eversleigh,” he applauded. “Insightful and yet circumspect.” He turned back to the dowager. “I hope you pay her well.”

Two red spots appeared on the dowager’s cheeks, in such stark relief to the white of her skin that he would have sworn she’d used rouge if he hadn’t seen the angry marks appear with his own eyes. “You are dismissed,” she ordered, not even looking at Miss Eversleigh.

“I am?” he feigned. “Lovely.” He held out his bound wrists. “Would you mind?”

“Not you, her.” His grandmother’s jaw clenched. “As you well know.”

But Jack was not in the mood to be accommodating, and in that moment he did not even care to maintain his usual jocular facade. And so he looked her in the eye, his green meeting her icy, icy blue, and as he spoke, he felt a shiver of déjà vu. It was almost as if he were back on the Continent, back in battle, his shoulders straight and his eyes narrowed as he faced down the enemy.

“She stays.”

They froze, all three of them, and Jack’s eyes did not waver from the dowager’s as he continued. “You brought her into this. She will remain through to the end.”

He half expected Miss Eversleigh to protest. Hell, any sane person would have run as far as possible from the upcoming confrontation. But she stood utterly still, her arms stick-straight at her sides, her only movement her throat as she swallowed.

“If you want me,” he said quietly, “you will take her as well.”

The dowager sucked a long, angry breath through her nose and jerked her head to the side. “Grace,” she barked, “the crimson drawing room. Now.”

Her name was Grace. He turned and looked at her. Her skin was pale and her eyes were wide and assessing.

Grace. He liked it. It fit her.

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