The Lost Duke of Wyndham Page 0,35

with a sword?"

"I do not know," she said.

Of course she wouldn't. But no matter. If Wyndham had said he was passable, then he was almost certainly a master. They would be well-matched if ever they had to offer proof of their lie. Fencing had been his best subject in school. It was probably the only reason they had kept him to age eighteen.

"Shall we?" he murmured, tilting his head toward the door.

"The blue silk bedroom," the dowager called out sourly.

"She does not like to be left out of a conversation, does she?" Jack murmured, so that only Miss Eversleigh could hear.

He'd known she could not answer, not with her employer so close, but he saw her eyes dart away, as if trying to hide her amusement.

"You may retire for the night as well, Miss Eversleigh," the dowager directed.

Grace turned in surprise. "You don't wish for me to attend to you? It's early yet."

"Nancy can do it," she replied with a pinch of her lips. "She's an acceptable hand with buttons, and what's more, she doesn't say a word. I find that to be an exceptionally good trait in a servant."

As Grace held her tongue more often than not, she decided to take that as a compliment, rather than the rear-door insult it was meant to be. "Of course, ma'am," she said, bobbing a demure curtsy. "I shall see you in the morning, then, with your chocolate and the newspaper."

Mr. Audley was already at the door and was holding out his hand to motion for her to precede him, so she walked out into the hall. She had no idea what the dowager was up to, giving her the rest of the evening off, but she was not going to argue further.

"Nancy is her maid," she explained to Mr. Audley once he reached her side.

"I'd guessed."

"It's most odd." She shook her head. "She - "

Mr. Audley waited rather patiently for her to finish her sentence, but Grace decided the better of it. She had been going to say that the dowager hated Nancy. In fact, the dowager complained most bitterly and at painful length each time she had a day out and Nancy served as a substitute.

"You were saying, Miss Eversleigh?" he murmured.

She almost told him. It was strange, because she barely knew him, and furthermore, he could not possibly be interested in the trivialities of the Belgrave household. Even if he did become the duke - and the thought of it still made her somewhat sick to her stomach - well, it wasn't as if Thomas could have identified any of the housemaids. And if asked which ones his grandmother disliked, he'd surely have said, All of them.

Which, Grace thought with a wry smile, was probably true.

"You're smiling, Miss Eversleigh," Mr. Audley remarked, looking very much as if he were the one with a secret. "Do tell why."

"Oh, it's nothing," she said. "Certainly nothing that would be of interest to you." She motioned toward the staircase at the rear of the hall. "Here, the bedchambers are this way."

"You were smiling," he said again, falling in step beside her.

For some reason that made her smile anew. "I did not say that I wasn't."

"A lady who doesn't dissemble," he said approvingly. "I find myself liking you more with every passing minute."

Grace pursed her lips, eyeing him over her shoulder. "That does not indicate a very high opinion of women."

"My apologies. I should have said a person who does not dissemble." He flashed her a smile that shook her to her toes. "I would never claim that men and women are interchangeable, and thank heavens for that, but in matters of truthiness, neither sex earns high marks."

She looked at him in surprise. "I don't think truthiness is a word. In fact, I'm quite certain it is not."

"No?" His eyes darted to the side. Just for a second - not even a second, but it was long enough for her to wonder if she'd embarrassed him. Which couldn't be possible. He was so amazingly glib and comfortable in his own skin. One did not need more than a day's acquaintance to realize that. And indeed, his smile grew jaunty and lopsided, and his eyes positively twinkled as he said, "Well, it should be."

"Do you often make up words?"

He shrugged modestly. "I try to restrain myself."

She looked at him with considerable disbelief.

"I do," he protested. He clasped one hand over his heart, as if wounded, but his eyes were laughing.

"Why is it no one ever