Page 69 of The Lost Duke of Wyndham

“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.”

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