Page 72 of Mr. Cavendish, I Presume

Thomas stepped into the hall. Some things simply could not be borne. “Indeed.”

Grace gasped and looked at him with a rather satisfying level of shock.

“Where the devil did he come from?” Audley murmured.

“A pleasant conversation,” Thomas drawled. “One of many, I assume.”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Audley said. “For shame.”

Thomas decided to ignore him. It was either that or strangle him, and he suspected that would be difficult to explain to the authorities.

“Your grace,” Grace began, “I—”

Oh, for God’s sake, if she could call Audley Jack, she could bloody well use his name again. “It’s Thomas, or don’t you recall?” he snapped. “You’ve used my name far more than once.”

He felt a brief pang of remorse at her miserable expression, but that was quickly suppressed when Audley chimed in, in his usual glib manner.

“Is that so?” he said, gazing down at Grace. “In that case, I insist you call me Jack.” He turned to Thomas and shrugged. “It’s only fair.”

Thomas held himself very still. Something ugly was growing within him, something furious and black. And every time Audley spoke, his tone was so droll, his smile so easy—it was as if none of this mattered. It fed the dark knot in his belly, it burned in his chest.

Audley turned back to Grace. “I shall call you Grace.”

“You will not,” Thomas snapped.

Audley lifted a brow but did not otherwise acknowledge him. “Does he always make these decisions for you?”

“This is my house,” Thomas ground out. Damn it, he would not be ignored.

“Possibly not for long,” Audley murmured.

It was his first directly confrontational comment, and for some reason Thomas actually found that funny. He looked at Grace, and at Audley, and it was suddenly clear how desperate Audley was to get her into his bed.

“Just so you know,” Thomas said, unconsciously adopting Audley’s tone, smile, his everything, “she doesn’t come with the house.”

Audley stiffened and his chin drew back. Ah, Thomas thought, a direct hit. Magnificent.

“Just what do you mean by that?” Audley bit off.

Thomas shrugged. “I think you know.”

“Thomas,” Grace said, trying to intercede.

He was reminded how bitterly he felt toward her. “Oh, we’re back to Thomas, are we?”

And then Audley, in his usual fine fashion, turned to Grace and said, “I think he fancies you, Miss Eversleigh.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Grace said dismissively.

And Thomas thought, Why not? Why didn’t he fancy Grace? It would be a hell of a lot less complicated than this burgeoning desire for Amelia.

In any case, it amused him to have Audley think that he did, so he crossed his arms and stared down his nose at him.

Audley merely smiled, his very expression a dare. “I wouldn’t wish to keep you from your responsibilities.”

“Ah, now they are my responsibilities?”

“While the house is still yours.”

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