Page 65 of Mr. Cavendish, I Presume

They continued around the room, taking, as they had the first time, the longest possible perimeter. As they drew close to the door, they heard more footsteps.

“Excuse me,” Grace said, pulling away. She hurried to the open doorway, looked out, and then returned. “It wasn’t the duke,” she said.

Amelia glanced through the open doorway. Two more footmen were moving through the hall, one with a trunk and another with a hatbox.

“Is someone going somewhere?” Amelia asked.

“No,” Grace replied. “Well, I suppose someone might be, but I do not know about it.”

Her voice sounded so abrupt and unsettled that Amelia finally asked, “Grace, are you all right?”

Her head turned, but not far enough for Amelia to see into her eyes. “Oh, no…I mean, yes, I’m quite fine.”

Amelia glanced back toward Mr. Audley. He waved. She turned back to Grace, whose face had flushed to a deep pink.

Which was reason enough to look back at Mr. Audley. He was looking at Grace. It was true that the two ladies were arm in arm, but it was more than obvious which was the recipient of his sultry gaze.

Grace knew it, too. Her breath caught, and indeed, her whole body stiffened. Amelia felt it tensing through her arm.

And then she was struck with the most marvelous thought.

“Grace,” she whispered, keeping her voice extra low, “are you in love with Mr. Audley?”

“No!”

Grace’s cheeks, which had begun to return to their normal tone, went right back to crimson. Her refusal had come out quite loudly, and Mr. Audley was regarding them with amused curiosity. Grace smiled weakly, nodded, and said, “Mr. Audley,” even though he couldn’t possibly hear her from where he sat.

“I’ve only just met him,” Grace whispered furiously. “Yesterday. No, the day before. I can’t recall.”

“You’ve been meeting many intriguing gentlemen lately, have you not?”

Grace turned to her sharply. “Whatever can you mean?”

“Mr. Audley…” Amelia teased. “The Italian highwayman.”

“Amelia!”

“Oh, that’s right, you said he was Scottish. Or Irish. You weren’t certain.” Amelia caught sight of Mr. Audley just then, and it occurred to her that his accent was very slightly foreign as well. “Where is Mr. Audley from? He has a bit of a lilt as well.”

“I do not know,” Grace said, rather impatiently, in Amelia’s opinion.

“Mr. Audley,” Amelia called out.

He immediately tilted his head in question.

“Grace and I were wondering where you are from. Your accent is unfamiliar to me.”

“Ireland, Lady Amelia, a bit north of Dublin.”

“Ireland! My goodness, you are far afield.”

He merely smiled.

The two ladies found themselves back at their original seating area, and so Amelia disconnected her arm from Grace’s and sat down. “How are you enjoying Lincolnshire, Mr. Audley?”

“I find it most surprising.”

“Surprising?” Amelia glanced at Grace to see if she, too, found that answer curious, but Grace was now standing near the door, nervously looking out.

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