Mr. Cavendish, I Presume (19 page)

Was that him? Striding past the doorway? She jumped up. “Thomas? Is that—”

The gentleman stopped, turned, and then Amelia realized that it was someone else. He was of a similar height and coloring, but she had never seen him before, of that she was quite certain. He was tall, although not awkwardly so, and his hair was perhaps a shade or two darker than Thomas’s. And his cheek was bruised.

How interesting.

“I’m so sorry,” she said hastily. But she was curious, and so she stepped toward the door. If she moved in his direction, he could not continue on his way without being unforgivably rude.

“Sorry to disappoint,” the gentleman said, smiling at her in a most flirtatious fashion. Amelia felt rather pleased despite herself. She wondered if he knew who she was. Probably not. Who would dare flirt with the Duke of Wyndham’s fiancée in his own house?

“No,” she said quickly, “of course not. It was my mistake. I was just sitting back there.” She motioned behind her. “You looked rather like the duke as you walked by.”

Indeed, the two gentlemen even shared the same stride. How odd. Amelia had not realized that she could recognize Thomas’s walk, but the moment she’d seen this man, she immediately realized that they moved in the same way.

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He swept into a gracious bow. “Captain Jack Audley, at your service, ma’am.”

She bobbed a polite curtsy. “Lady Amelia Willoughby.”

“Wyndham’s fiancée.”

“You know him, then? Oh, well, of course you do.

You are a guest here.” Then she recalled their conversation back at the Happy Hare. “Oh, you must be his fencing partner.”

Captain Audley stepped forward. “He told you about me?”

“Not much,” she admitted, trying not to look at the bruise on his cheek. It could not be a coincidence that both he and Thomas showed signs of an altercation.

“Ah, this,” Captain Audley murmured. He looked somewhat embarrassed as he touched his fingers to his cheek. “It looks much worse than it actually is.”

She was trying to figure out the best way to ask him about it when he added, in a most conversational tone,

“Tell me, Lady Amelia, what color is it today?”

“Your cheek?” she asked, surprised by his forth-rightness.

“Indeed. Bruises tend to look worse as they age, have you noticed? Yesterday it was quite purple, almost regally so, with a hint of blue in it. I haven’t checked in the mirror lately.” He turned his head, offering her a better view. “Is it still as attractive?”

Amelia stared at him in awe, unsure of what to say.

She had never met anyone quite so glib. It had to be a talent.

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“Er, no,” she finally replied, since it made absolutely no sense to lie when he was within ten feet of a mirror.

“I would not call it attractive.”

He laughed. “No mincing words for you, eh?”

“I’m afraid those blue undertones of which you were so proud have gone a bit green.” She smiled, rather pleased with her analysis.

He leaned in, smiling wickedly. “To match my eyes?”

“No,” she said, finding herself quite immune to his charms, although she did recognize them to be legion, indeed. The man probably had women falling at his feet at every turn. “Not with the purple overlaying it,”

she explained. “It looks quite horrible.”

“Purple mixed with green makes . . . ?”

“Quite a mess.”

He laughed again. “You are charming, Lady Amelia.

But I am sure your fiancé tells you that on every possible occasion.”

She was not quite certain how to reply to that. Certainly not every possible occasion. But today had been different. Better.

“Do you await him here?” the captain asked.

“No, I just—” She caught herself before she said that she’d just seen Thomas. She had never been good at telling tales. “I am here to see Miss Eversleigh.”

Something intriguing flickered in his eyes, so she asked, “Have you met Miss Eversleigh?”

“Indeed I have. She is most lovely.”

“Yes,” Amelia said. Everyone thought so, didn’t they? She pressed her tongue against the roof of her Mr. Cavendish, I Presume

185

mouth just long enough to hide the fact that she wanted to frown, and added, “She is universally admired.”

“Are you and Miss Eversleigh acquaintances?” the captain asked.

“Yes. I mean, no. More than that, I should say. I have known Grace since childhood. She is most friendly with my elder sister.”

“And surely with you, as well.”

“Of course.” Amelia dipped her chin in acknowledgment. To do anything else would imply that Grace was less than gracious, which would be a falsehood. It was not Grace’s fault that Thomas held her in such high esteem. And this gentleman, too, if his interest was any indication. “But more so with my sister. They are of an age, you see.”

“Ah, the plight of the younger sibling,” he murmured sympathetically.

Amelia looked at him with interest. “You share the experience? ”

“Not at all,” he said with a grin. “I was the one ignoring the hangers-on. I was the eldest of the brood.

A fortuitous position, I think. I should have been most unhappy not to have been in charge.”

Amelia understood that well. She’d often thought she was a different person with Elizabeth than she was with Milly. “I am the second of five,” she said, “so I can appreciate your sentiments as well.”

“Five!” He looked impressed. “All girls?”

Amelia’s lips parted with surprise. “How did you know?”

“I have no idea,” he replied, “except that it is such a 186 Julia

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charming image. It would have been a shame to have sullied it with a male.”

Good heavens, he was a rogue. “Is your tongue always this silver, Captain Audley?”

And, indeed, the smile he gave her was positively lethal. “Except,” he said, “when it’s gold.”

“Amelia!”

They both turned. Grace had entered the room. “And Mr. Audley,” she said, with some surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Amelia said, somewhat confused. “I thought it was
Captain
Audley.”

“It is,” he said with a very slight shrug. “Depending upon my mood.” He turned to Grace and bowed. “It is indeed a privilege to see you again so soon, Miss Eversleigh.”

Grace curtsied in return. “I did not realize you were here.”

“There is no reason why you should have done,”

Mr. Audley said politely. “I was heading outside for a restorative walk when Lady Amelia intercepted me.”

“I thought he was Wyndham,” Amelia told Grace.

“Isn’t that the oddest thing?”

“Indeed,” Grace replied.

Amelia thought Grace’s voice sounded a bit irregu-lar, but it was probably just a bit of dust in her throat.

It seemed impolite to mention it, however, and so she said, “Of course I was not paying much attention, which I am sure explains it. I only caught sight of him out of the corner of my eye as he strode past the open doorway.”

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Captain, er,
Mister
Audley turned to Grace. “It makes so much sense when put that way, does it not?”

“So much sense,” Grace echoed. She glanced over her shoulder.

“Are you waiting for someone, Miss Eversleigh?” he inquired.

“No, I was just thinking that his grace might like to join us. Er, since his fiancée is here, of course.”

Amelia swallowed awkwardly, grateful that neither one of them was looking at her. Grace did not know that she had spent the entire morning with Thomas. Or that she was supposed to have been shopping in Stamford. And she never would, Amelia thought, with the beginnings of irritation, if Mr. Audley did not go on his way. Hadn’t he said he wanted to take a walk?

“Is he returned, then?” Mr. Audley asked. “I was not aware.”

“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.”

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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.

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“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.

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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.

“They are not
real
arrows.”

Mr. Audley turned to Grace. Again. “What do you think, Miss Eversleigh?”

“I don’t often think about cupids,” she replied.

“And yet we have already discussed them twice, you and I.”

“Because you brought them
up
.”

Amelia drew back in surprise. She’d never heard Grace so short of temper.

“My dressing room is positively awash in them,” Mr.

Audley said.

Amelia turned to Grace. “You were in his dressing room?”

“Not
with
him,” Grace practically snapped. “But I have certainly seen it before.”

No one spoke, and then Grace finally muttered,

“Pardon.”

“Mr. Audley,” Amelia said, deciding it was well past time to take the situation in hand. She was turning over a new leaf today, she’d decided. She had managed Thomas and she could manage these two if she had to.

“Lady Amelia,” he said with a gracious tilt of his chin.

“Would it be rude if Miss Eversleigh and I took a turn about the room?”

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“Of course not,” he said immediately, even though it
was
rude, given that they were only a threesome, and he’d be left with nothing to do.

“Thank you for your understanding,” 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.”

Good gad, she could not believe she was uttering such tripe, but it seemed to do the trick. Mr. Audley said nothing more, and she steered Grace over to a spot by the windows.

“I need to speak with you,” she whispered, modulat-ing their pace into something even and graceful.

Grace nodded.

“This morning,” Amelia continued, glancing surrep-titiously at Mr. Audley to see if he was watching them (he was), “Wyndham was in need of assistance, and I came to his aid, but I had to tell my mother that it was you I had seen, and that you had invited me back to Belgrave.”

Grace nodded again, her eyes straight ahead, and then at the door, but never on her.

“I doubt it will come to it, but should you see my mother, I beg of you not to contradict.”

“Of course not,” Grace said quickly. “You have my word.”

Amelia nodded, somewhat surprised at how easy that had been. She had not expected Grace to decline, but all the same, she thought she’d have to offer something more of an explanation. Grace hadn’t even asked
why
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