Page 63 of Mr. Cavendish, I Presume

“That is what I have been told,” Grace said. “I have not seen him myself.”

“Alas,” Mr. Audley said, “he has been absent for some time.”

Amelia tried to catch Grace’s attention but was unable to do so. Thomas would not like it to be well-known that he had been so impaired the night before—and this morning as well, for that matter.

“I think I should get him,” Grace said.

“But you only just got here,” Mr. Audley said.

“Nonetheless—”

“We shall ring for him,” Mr. Audley said firmly, and he crossed the room to the bellpull. “There,” he said, giving it a good yank. “It is done.”

Amelia looked at Grace, whose face now held a vague expression of alarm, and then back to Mr. Audley, who was placidity personified. Neither spoke, nor did either seem to recall that she was in the room with them.

It did make one wonder just what, exactly, was going on.

Amelia looked back to Grace, since she knew her better, but Grace was already hurrying across the room to the sofa. “I believe I will sit down,” she mumbled.

“I will join you,” Amelia said, recognizing an opportunity to have a private word. She took a seat directly next to Grace, even though there was quite a length of cushion. All she needed was for Mr. Audley to excuse himself, or look the other way, or do anything other than follow the two of them about the room with those catlike green eyes of his.

“What a fetching tableau the two of you make,” he said. “And me, without my oils.”

“Do you paint, Mr. Audley?” Amelia asked. She had been brought up to make polite conversation whenever the situation called for it, and even, quite frequently, when it did not. Some habits were hard to break.

“Alas, no,” he said. “But I have been thinking I might take some lessons. It is a noble pursuit for a gentleman, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh, indeed,” she replied, although privately she thought that he would have been better served had he begun his studies at a younger age. Amelia looked at Grace, since it seemed only natural that she would add to the conversation. When she did not, Amelia gave her a polite nudge.

“Mr. Audley is a great appreciator of art,” Grace blurted out.

Mr. Audley smiled enigmatically.

And Amelia was once again left to fill the breach. “You must be enjoying your stay at Belgrave Castle, then,” she said to him.

“I look forward to touring the collections,” he replied. “Miss Eversleigh has consented to show them to me.”

“That was very kind of you, Grace.” Amelia said, working to keep her surprise off her face. Not that there was anything wrong with Mr. Audley, except perhaps for his inability to leave the room when she wished him to. But as Grace was the dowager’s companion, it seemed odd that she would have been asked to show Thomas’s friend the collections.

Grace grunted something that was probably meant to be a response.

“We plan to avoid cupids,” Mr. Audley said.

“Cupids?” Amelia echoed. Good heavens, he did move from topic to topic.

He shrugged. “I have discovered that I am not fond of them.”

How could anyone not be fond of cupids?

“I can see that you disagree, Lady Amelia,” Mr. Audley said. But Amelia noticed that he glanced at Grace before he spoke.

“What is there not to like about cupids?” Amelia asked him. She had not intended to engage him in such a ridiculous conversation, but really, he’d brought it up.

He perched himself on the arm of the opposite sofa. “You don’t find them rather dangerous?” he asked, clearly out to make mischief.

“Chubby little babies?”

“Carrying deadly weapons,” he reminded her.

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