The Lost Duke of Wyndham Page 0,62

Lady Amelia said, linking her arm through Grace's and pulling them both to their feet. "I do feel the need to stretch my legs, and I fear that your stride would be far too brisk for a lady."

How she uttered that without choking on her tongue, he did not know. But he merely smiled and watched them as they moved as one to the window, leaving him behind and out of earshot.

Chapter Thirteen

Grace let Amelia set the pace, and as soon as they were across the room, Amelia began whispering urgently about the events of the morning, and then about Thomas having needed her assistance, and then something about her mother.

Grace just nodded, her eyes constantly darting toward the door. Thomas would be there at any moment, and although she had no idea what she might do to prevent what would surely be a disastrous encounter, she could not possibly think of anything else.

Meanwhile, Amelia kept on whispering. Grace had just enough presence of mind to catch the end, when Amelia said: "...I beg of you not to contradict."

"Of course not," Grace said quickly, because surely Amelia had made the same request Thomas had minutes earlier. If not, then she had no idea what she was agreeing to when she added, "You have my word."

At that point, Grace wasn't sure she cared.

They continued walking, lapsing into silence as they promenaded past Mr. Audley, who gave them a rather knowing nod and a smile as they went by.

"Miss Eversleigh," he murmured. "Lady Amelia."

"Mr. Audley," Amelia returned. Grace managed the same, but her voice was unpleasant and croaky.

Amelia began whispering again once they were well past Mr. Audley, but just then Grace heard heavy footsteps in the hall. She twisted about to see, but it was only a footman, passing by with a trunk.

Grace swallowed. Oh, dear heavens, the dowager was already beginning to pack for their trip to Ireland, and Thomas did not even know of her plans. How could she have forgotten to tell him during their interview?

And then she became aware of Amelia, whom she'd somehow managed to forget, even though their arms were linked. "Sorry," she said quickly, since she suspected it was her turn to speak. "Did you say something?"

Amelia shook her head and said, "No." Grace was fairly certain this was a lie, but she was not inclined to argue.

And then...more footsteps in the hall.

"Excuse me," Grace said, unable to bear the suspense for one moment longer. She pulled away and hurried to the open doorway. Several more servants were passing by, all clearly in preparations for the upcoming journey to Ireland. Grace returned to Amelia's side and once again took her arm. "It wasn't the duke."

"Is someone going somewhere?" Amelia asked, watching as two footmen passed the doorway, one with a trunk and another with a hatbox.

"No," Grace said. But she hated lying, and she was terrible at it, so she added, "Well, I suppose someone might be, but I do not know about it."

Which was also a lie. Wonderful. She looked at Amelia and tried to smile cheerfully.

"Grace," Amelia said quietly, looking terribly concerned, "are you all right?"

"Oh, no...I mean, yes, I'm quite fine." She tried for the cheerful smile again, and suspected she did a worse job of it than before.

"Grace," Amelia whispered, her voice taking on a new and rather unsettlingly sly tone, "are you in love with Mr. Audley?"

"No!" Oh, good heavens, that was loud. Grace looked over at Mr. Audley. Not that she'd wanted to, but they'd just turned a corner and were facing him again, and she couldn't avoid it. His face was tilted slightly down, but she could see him looking up at her, rather bemused. "Mr. Audley," she said, because with him watching her, it seemed she should acknowledge him, even if he was too far away to hear.

But then, as soon as she had the opportunity, she turned back to Amelia, furiously whispering, "I've only just met him. Yesterday. No, the day before." Oh, she was a ninny. She shook her head and looked firmly in front of her. "I can't recall."

"You've been meeting many intriguing gentlemen lately," Amelia commented.

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'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