Page 39 of The Lost Duke of Wyndham

“Is that how you see yourself?” His eyes met hers, searching her so deeply she almost stepped away. “A servant?”

And then she did step away. Because whatever it was he was going to find in her, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to see it. “We should not loiter,” she said, motioning for him to follow her up the stairs. “The blue silk bedroom is lovely. Very comfortable, and with excellent morning light. The artwork in particular is superb. I think you will like it.”

She was babbling, but he was kind enough not to remark upon it, instead saying, “I’m sure it will be an improvement over my current lodgings.”

She glanced over at him with surprise. “Oh. I had assumed—” She broke off, too embarrassed to remark that she’d thought him a homeless nomad.

“A life of posting inns and grassy fields,” he said with an affected sigh. “Such is the fate of a highwayman.”

“Do you enjoy it?” She surprised herself, both by asking it and also by how very curious she was in the answer.

He grinned. “Robbing coaches?”

She nodded.

“It depends on who is in the coach,” he said softly. “I very much enjoyed not robbing you.”

“Not robbing me?” She turned then, and the ice, which had been cracked, was officially broken.

“I didn’t take a thing, did I?” he returned, all innocence.

“You stole a kiss.”

“That,” he said, leaning forward with great cheek, “was freely given.”

“Mr. Audley…”

“I do wish you’d call me Jack,” he sighed.

“Mr. Audley,” she said again. “I did not—” She looked quickly about, then lowered her voice to an urgent whisper. “I did not…do…what you said I did.”

He smiled lazily. “When did ‘kiss’ become such a dangerous word?”

She clamped her lips together because truly there was no way she would gain the upper hand in this conversation.

“Very well,” he said. “I shan’t torment you.”

It would have been a kind and generous statement if he hadn’t followed it with: “Today.”

But even then, she smiled. It was difficult not to, in his presence.

They were in the upper hall now, and Grace turned toward the family apartments where he would be staying. They moved along in silence, giving her ample time to consider the gentleman beside her. She did not care what he’d said about not completing university. He was extremely intelligent, unique vocabulary notwithstanding. And there was no arguing against his charm. There was no reason he should not be gainfully employed. She could not ask him why he was robbing coaches, however. It was far too forward on so short an acquaintance.

It was ironic, that. Who would have thought she’d be worried about manners and propriety with a thief?

“This way,” she said, motioning for him to follow her to the left.

“Who sleeps down there?” Mr. Audley asked, peering in the opposite direction.

“His grace.”

“Ah,” he said darkly. “His grace.”

“He is a good man,” Grace said, feeling she must speak up for him. If Thomas had not behaved as he ought, it was certainly understandable. From the day of his birth, he’d been raised to be the Duke of Wyndham. And now, with the flimsiest of fate twists, he’d been informed that he might be nothing more than plain Mr. Cavendish.

If Mr. Audley had had a rough day, well then, surely Thomas’s was worse.

“You admire the duke,” Mr. Audley stated. Grace couldn’t quite tell if this was a question; she didn’t think so. But either way, his tone was dry, as if he thought she was somewhat naive for doing so.

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