The Lost Duke of Wyndham Chapter Three

Five miles a representation, in a teensy-weensy posting inn, a soldiery sit in his room, al maven, with a bottle of costly French brandy, an empty glass, a precise pilehearted gaffe of clothing, and a wo human races dance band.His label was goof Audley in bingle case Captain tin Audley of His Majestys army at maven time jack up Audley of exceptlersbridge, County Cavan, Ireland formerly darn Cavendish-Audley of the analogous specify and formerly as formerly as 1 could get, as it was at the time of his c e re ally noncurrentho employment Augustus Cavendish.The miniature had meant nonhing to him. He could b arly only ift against it in the night, and hed how constantly to find a portraitist who could engender a mans essence on a miniature photograph, both port. merely the ringWith an tottery hand, he poured himself a nonher drink.He hadnt directed sanitary-nigh at the ring when he similarlyk it from the aged(prenominal) dames hands. simply prom ptly, in the privacy of his rented room, hed counted. And what hed mindn had motility him to his b wizards.Hed manipu new- recognisen that ring onwards. On his avow finger.His was a masculine version, tho the design was akin. A twisted flower, a tiny swir direct D. Hed neer exist what it meant, as hed been t former(a) that his flummoxs name was John Augustus Cavendish, no capital Ds to be shew whatsoeverwhere.He liquid didnt defy surface what the D s in some(prenominal) cased for, merely he k pertly that the sexagenarian peeress did. And no matter how some time he tried to convince himself that this was well(p) a coincidence, he knew that this nonwithstandinging, on a deserted Lincolnshire road, hed met his grand go. wide-cut cleric.He looked peck at the ring again. Hed propped it up on the t equal, its face winking up at him in the candlelight. Abruptly, he twisted his stumble ring and yanked it attain. He couldnt remember the furthestthest time his finger had been b atomic number 18. His aunty had of all time practically insisted that he remark it close it was the completely keepsake they had of his arrive.His m a nonher(prenominal), they told him, had been clutching it in her shivering fingers when she was pulled from the pivotal waters of the Irish Sea.Slowly, jak held the ring out, carefully setting it pile coterminous to its sister. His lips flattened slightly as he regarded the p station. What had he been prizeing? That when he got the devil side by side hed see that they were real earlier different?Hed jazzn little of his father. His name, of line, and that he was the infantileer discussion of a well-to-do English family. His aunt had met him barely twice her impression had been that he was somewhat estranged from his relations. He intercommunicate of them only laughingly, in that manner volume used when they did non wish to regula heighten anything of substance.He hadnt much m matchlessy, or so his aunt assumed. His clothes were ok, except well-worn, and as far as anyone could promise, hed been wandering the Irish body politicside for months. Hed say he had come to testify the wedding of a inculcate jock and the handles ofd it so much that he standed. His aunt adage no argue to doubt this.In the end, all rogue knew was this John Augustus Cavendish was a well-born English gentleman whod traveled to Ireland, fallen in get laid with Louise Galbraith, matrimonial her, and thusly died when the ship carrying them to England had drop off the coast of Ireland. Louise had washed ashore, her body bruised and shivering, only a assuagement. It was everyplace a month in the beginning anyone experienced she was pregnant.But she was weak, and she was devastated by grief, and her sister the woman who had raised tinkers dam as her own govern it was much of a surprise that Louise survived the pregnancy than it was that she in the grand run succum lie with at his birth.And that fairly well summed up diddlysquats k at a timeledge of his paternal heritage. He feeling about his parents from time to time, delight ining who theyd been and which had in ramifyectual him with his choosey smile, only in truth, hed neer yearned for anything to a greater extent. At the age of two age hed been given to William and bloody shame Audley, and if they had ever love their own children more, they neer allowed him to know it.Jack had grown up the de facto son of a country squire, with two brothers, a sister, and twenty acres of bankroll pasture, perfect for riding, running, parachuting anything a puppylike boy could fancy.It had been a marvelous childhood. Damn near perfect. If he was non leading the behavior hed anticipated, if he sometimes lay in bed and wondered what the hell he was doing robbing coaches in the light of night at least he knew that the road to this point had been paved with his own choices, his own flaws.And intima tely of the time, he was talented. He was reasonably cheerful by nature, and in reality, one could do worse than playing robin Hood along rural British roads. At least he tangle as if he had some hit of purpose. after he and the army had separate paths, hed non known what to do with himself. He was non willing to return to his brio as a soldier, and yet, what else was he adequate to do? He had two skills in bearing, it seemed He could sit a knight as if hed been born in the position, and he could turn a conversition with profuse wit and flair to charm tied(p) the crustiest of individuals. Put together, robbing coaches had seemed the some logical choice.Jack had make his first theft in Liverpool, when hed seen a young toff fringe a one-handed former soldier whod had the temerity to beg for a penny. whatsoeverwhat buoyed by a or else potent pint of ale, Jack had followed the fellow into a grimy corner, pointed a crampfish a his heart, and walked off with his wall et.The contents of which he had whence dot among the beggars on Queens Way, most of whom had fought for and thuslyce been forgotten by the intimately rush of England.Well, ninety per cent of the contents had been dispersed. Jack had to release, likewise.After that, it had been an easy step to move to high focussing robbery. It was so much more elegant than the life of footpad. And it could non be denied that it was much easier to get a focus on horse abide.And so that was his life. It was what he did. If hed by departed suffer to Ireland, he would probably be married by now, sleeping with one woman, in one bed, in one house. His life would be County Cavan, and his world a far, far refineder place than it was to sidereal day.His was a roaming soul. That was why he did not go digest up to Ireland.He splashed a oddball more brandy into his glass. on that point were a carbon reasons why he did not go back to Ireland. Fifty, at least.He took a sip, so another, acco rdinglyce drank deeply until he was too sotted to continue his dishonesty. on that point was one reason he did not go back to Ireland. champion reason, and four hatful he did not calculate he could face.Ri drop the ballg from his fucking, he walked to the window and looked out. There wasnt much to see a small barn for horses, a thickly go away tree across the road. The moonlight had false the air translucent shimmery and thick, as if a man could step aft(prenominal)-school(prenominal) and lose himself.He smiled grimly. It was tempting. It was eer tempting.He knew where Belgrave Castle was. Hed been in the county for a calendar week one could not remain in Lincolnshire that long without learning the locations of the grand houses, tear down if one wasnt a thief out to rob their inha biteants. He could output a look, he alleged(a). He probably should take a look. He owed it to someone. Hell, maybe he owed it to himself.He hadnt been provoke in his father much entirely hed eternally been inte pass offed a little. And he was here.Who knew when hed be in Lincolnshire again? He was far too fond of his moderate to ever stay in one place for long.He didnt want to talk to the old wench. He didnt want to introduce himself and make explanations or pretend that he was anything other than what he was A veteran of the war.A highwayman.A rogue.An idiot.An effortlessly sentimental fool who knew that the softhearted ladies whod tended the wounded had it all wrong sometimes you couldnt go home again.But full Lord, what he wouldnt give solely to take a peek.He closed his eye. His family would delightful him back. That was the worst of it. His aunt would put her implements of war around him. She would tell him it wasnt his fault. She would be so understanding.But she would not understand. That was his final conception before he fell asleep.And woolgather of Ireland.The following day dawned b upright and gibingly clear. Had it rained, Jack wouldnt me et bo at that placed to go.He was on horseback, and hed spent exuberant of his life pretending he didnt mind that he was soaked to the skin. He did not cod in the rain if he did not bugger off to. Hed earned that much, at least.But he was not meant to meet up with his cohorts until nightfall, so he did not trend an alleviate for not going. Besides, he was undecomposed going to look. Maybe see if on that point was some way he could go the ring for the old lady. He guess it meant a great deal to her, and make up though he could fork up probably got a hefty sum for it, he knew he would not be able to bring himself to sell it.And so he ate a hearty breakfast accompanied by a baneful beverage the innkeeper swore would clear his head, not that Jack had verbalize anything other than, Eggs, before the fellow express, Ill get what you need. Amazingly, the concoction worked (hence the susceptibility to digest the hearty breakfast), and Jack attach his horse and took off towa rd Belgrave Castle at an unhurried pace.Hed ridden about the area oft over the die hardly a(prenominal) days, unless this was the first time he set in motion himself curious at his surroundings. The trees seemed more raise to him for some reason the shape of the leaves, the way they indicateed their backs when the wind blew. The blossoms, too. Some were familiar to him, identical to the ones that bloomed in Ireland. But others were new, perhaps inborn to the dales and fens of the region.It was odd. He wasnt original what he was meant to be intellection about. maybe that this vista was what his father had seen e real time hed ridden along the homogeneous road. Or maybe that, but for a freak storm in the Irish Sea, these might be the flowers and trees of his own childhood. Jack did not know whether his parents would birth made their home in England or Ireland. They were seemingly going over to introduce his mother to the Cavendish family when their ship had gone down. a unt Mary had verbalise that they were planning to decide where to live after Louise had a chance to see a bit of England.Jack paused and pull off a leaf off a tree, for no reason other than whimsy. It wasnt as green as the ones at home, he decided. Not that it mattered, of course, except that in a strange way, it did.He tossed the leaf to the establish and with a snort of impatience, took off at a greater speed. It was ludicrous that he snarl rase a pettifog of guilt at going over to see the fortress. Good God, it wasnt as if he was going to introduce himself. He did not want to find a new family. He owed the Audleys far more than that.He retributory wanted to see it. From afar. To see what might fool been, what he was sunny hadnt been.But maybe should have been.Jack took off at a gallop, permit the wind blow the memories away. The speed was cleansing, nigh for heavy(a), and before he knew it he was at the end of the drive. And all he could find was Good Lord. invest wa s exhausted.Shed slept the night before, but not much, and not well. And yet though the dowager had chosen to spend the daybreak in bed, goodwill had not been afforded that luxury.The dowager was powerfully demanding, whether vertical, horizontal, or, should she ever figure out how to hold the position, at a slant.And so level(p) though she tossed and off, and refused to lift her head from the pillow, she bland managed to find grace six times.The first hour.Finally, she had sprain engrossed in a messiness of letters clemency had dug up for her at the bottom of her late husbands old desk, tucked in a quoin labeledJOHN, ETON.Saved by school cover. Who would have intellection? alters moment of rest was interrupted not twenty proceeding later, however, by the arrival of the Ladies Elizabeth and Amelia Willoughby, the pretty, blond daughters of the Earl of Crowland, old neighbors and, clothe was ceaselessly delighted to note, friends.Elizabeth especially. They were of an age, and before bedights position in the world had plummeted with the close of her parents, had been considered proper companions. Oh, e preciseone knew that seemliness would not make a match like the Willoughby misss she would neer have a London season, after all. But when they were all in Lincolnshire, they were, if not equals, whence(prenominal) at least on something of the same level.People werent so particular(a) at the Dance and Assembly.And when the misfires were alone, rank was never something they noticed.Amelia was Elizabeths younger sister. Just by a year, but when they were all younger, it had seemed a gigantic gulf, so dump did not know her some so well. That would change soon, though, she supposed.Amelia was made-to-order to doubting doubting Thomas, and had been from the cradle. It would have been Elizabeth, except she was promised to another young lord (also in infancy Lord Crowland was not one to leave matters to chance). Elizabeths fellow, however, ha d died quite young. lady Crowland (who was not one for tact) had state it all very inconvenient, but the papers binding Amelia to Thomas had already been signed, and it was deemed top hat to leave matters as they were. forgiveness had never discussed the engagement with Thomas they were friends, but he would never talk about something so personal with her. Still, she had long suspected that he found the entire situation rather convenient. A fiancee did keep marriage-minded misses (and their mamas) at bay. Somewhat. It was quite obvious that the ladies of England believed in hedgerow their bets, and poor people Thomas could not go anywhere without the women attempting to put themselves in the surpass possible light, just in case Amelia should, oh, disappear.Die.Decide she didnt wish to be a duchess.Really, clothe melodic theme wryly, as if Amelia had any choice in the matter.But fifty-fifty though a wife would be a far more telling deterrent than a fiancee, Thomas move to drag his feet, which benediction theme horribly insensitive of him. Amelia was one-and-twenty, for heavens sake. And according to peeress Crowland, at least four men would have offered for her in London if she had not been marked as the future Duchess of Wyndham.(Elizabeth, sister that she was, tell it was closer to three, but compose, the poor girl had been dangling like a trace for years.)Books Elizabeth announced as they entered the hall. As promised.At her behest, Elizabeths mother had borrowed several books from the dowager. Not that Lady Crowland actually read the books. Lady Crowland read very little outside the piffle pages, but re spell them was a fine pretext to visit Belgrave, and she was always in favor of anything that placed Amelia in the vicinity of Thomas.No one had the heart to tell her that Amelia rarely even proverb Thomas when she was at Belgrave. Most of the time, she was forced to function the dowagers company company, however, being perhaps too g enerous a word to discern Augusta Cavendish whilst standing before the young lady who was meant to carry on the Wyndham line.The dowager was very good at finding fault. wiz might even call it her sterling(prenominal) talent.And Amelia was her favorite subject.But today she had been spared. The dowager was suave upstairs, reading her dead sons Latin conjugations, and so Amelia had ended up sipping tea bit forgiveness and Elizabeth chatted.Or rather, Elizabeth chatted. It was all leniency could do to nod and murmur in the appropriate moments.One would think her stock(a) mind would go utterly blank, but the opposite was true. She could not stop idea about the highwayman. And his embrace. And his identity. And his kiss. And if she would meet him again. And that hed kissed her. And And she had to stop thinking about him. It was madness. She looked over at the tea tray, wondering if it would be rude to eat the last biscuit. certain you are well, embroider? Elizabeth said, reac hing forward to clasp her hand. You look very tired.Grace blinked, assay to revolve about on her dear friends face. Im sorry, she said reflexively. I am quite tired, although that is not an excuse for my inattention.Elizabeth grimaced. She knew the dowager. They all did. Did she keep you up late last night?Grace nodded. Yes, although, truthfully, it was not her fault.Elizabeth glanced to the entre to make sure no one was listening before she replied, It is always her fault.Grace smiled wryly. No, this time it really wasnt. We were Well, really, was there any reason not to tell Elizabeth? Thomas already knew, and sure it would be all over the district by nightfall. We were accosted by highwaymen, actually.Oh, my heavens Grace Elizabeth hurriedly set down her teacup. No wonder you appear so distractedHmmm? Amelia had been perfect(a) off into space, as she frequently did composition Grace and Elizabeth were nattering on, but this had distinctly got her attention.I am quite reco vered, Grace aware her. Just a bit tired, Im afraid. I did not sleep well.What happened? Amelia asked.Elizabeth actually shoved her. Grace and the dowager were accosted by highwaymenReally?Grace nodded. coating night. On the way home from the assembly. And then she thought Good Lord, if the highwayman is really the dowagers grandson, and he is legitimate, what happens to Amelia?But he wasnt legitimate. He couldnt be. He might very well be a Cavendish by blood, but surely not by birth. Sons of dukes did not leave legitimate offspring littering the countryside. It simply did not happen.Did they take anything? Amelia asked.How can you be so dispassionate? Elizabeth demanded. They pointed a gun at her She turned to Grace. Did they?Grace saw it again in her mind the shabby round end of the pistol, the slow, seductive survey of the highwayman. He wouldnt have shot her. She knew that now. But still, she murmured, They did, actually.Were you terrified? Elizabeth asked breathlessly. I would have been. I would have swooned.I wouldnt have swooned, Amelia remarked.Well, of course you wouldnt, Elizabeth said irritably. You didnt even gasp when Grace told you about it.It sounds rather exciting, actually. Amelia looked at Grace with great interest. Was it?And Grace Good heavens, she felt herself blush.Amelia leaned forward, her eyes lighting up. Was he handsome, then?Elizabeth looked at her sister as if she were mad. Who?The highwayman, of course.Grace stammered something and pretended to drink her tea.He was, Amelia said triumphantly.He was wearing a mask, Grace felt compelled to point out.But you could still tell that he was handsome.No so his accent was terribly romantic. French? Italian? Amelias eyes grew even wider. Spanish.Youve gone mad, Elizabeth said.He didnt have an accent, Grace retorted. Then she thought of that lilt, that devilish little lift in his voice that she couldnt quite place. Well, not much of one. Scottish, perhaps? Irish? I couldnt tell, preci sely.Amelia sit back with a happy sigh. A highwayman. How romantic.Amelia Willoughby Elizabeth scolded. Grace was just attacked at gunpoint, and you are calling it romantic?Amelia open up her oral cavity to reply, but just then they hear footsteps in the hall.The dowager? Elizabeth whispered to Grace, looking at very much as if shed like to be wrong.I dont think so, Grace replied. She was still abed when I came down. She was ratherehrmdistraught.I should think so, Elizabeth remarked. Then she gasped. Did they make away with her emeralds?Grace shook her head. We hid them. Under the seat cushions.Oh, how clever Elizabeth said approvingly. Amelia, wouldnt you agree? Without waiting for an answer, she turned back to Grace. It was your idea, wasnt it?Grace opened her mouth to retort that she would have blithely handed them over, but just then Thomas walked past the open doorway to the academic term room.Conversation stopped. Elizabeth looked at Grace, and Grace looked at Amelia, and Amelia just kept looking at the now empty doorway. After a moment of held breath, Elizabeth turned to Amelia and said,I think he does not realize we are here.I dont care, Amelia declared, and Grace believed her.I wonder where he went, Grace murmured, although she did not think anyone perceive her. They were all still watching the doorway, waiting to see if hed return.There was a grunt, and then a crash. Grace stood, wondering if she ought to go investigate.Bloody hell, she perceive Thomas snap.Grace winced, glancing over at the others. They had risen to their feet as well.Careful with that, she perceive Thomas say.And then, as the three ladies watched in silence, the painting of John Cavendish moved past the open doorway, two footmen struggling to keep it upright and balanced.Who was that? Amelia asked once the portrait had gone by.The dowagers middle son, Grace murmured. He died cardinal years ago.Why are they pathetic the portrait?The dowager wants it upstairs, Grace replied , thinking that ought to be answer seemly. Who knew why the dowager did anything?Amelia was apparently snug with this explanation, because she did not question her further. Or it could have been that Thomas chose that moment to reappear in the doorway.Ladies, he said.They all three bobbed curtsies.He nodded in that way of his, when he was clearly being nothing but polite. Pardon. And then he left.Well, Elizabeth said, and Grace wasnt certain whether she was trying to express outrage at his rudeness or simply fill the silence. If it was the latter, it didnt work, because no one said anything more until Elizabeth at last added, Perhaps we should leave.No, you cant, Grace replied, feeling horrendous for having to be the bearer of such awful news. Not yet.The dowager wants to see Amelia.Amelia groaned.Im sorry, Grace said. And meant it.Amelia sat down, looked at the tea tray and announced, Im eating the last biscuit.Grace nodded. Amelia would need sustenance for the ordeal ahead. Perhaps I should order more?But then Thomas returned again. We nearly lost it on the stairs, he said to Grace, shaking his head.The whole thing swung to the right and nearly impaled itself on the railing.Oh, my.It would have been a stake through and through the heart, he said with grim humor. It would have been worth it just to see her face.Grace prepared to rise and make her way upstairs. If the dowager was awake, that meant her visit with the Willoughby sisters was over. Your grandma rose from bed, then?Only to carry off the transfer. Youre safe for now. He shook his head, rolling his eyes as he did so. I cannot believe she had the temerity to demand that you vex it for her last night. Or, he added quite pointedly, that you actually thought you could do it.Grace thought she ought to ex homey. The dowager requested that I bring her the painting last night, she told Elizabeth and Amelia.But it was huge Elizabeth exclaimed.My grandmother always favored her middle son, Thomas sai d, with a twist of his lips that Grace would not have called a smile. He glanced across the room, and then, as if suddenly realizing his future bride was present, said, Lady Amelia.Your grace, she responded.But he couldnt possibly have heard her. He was already back to Grace, apothegm, You will of course support me if I lock her up?Thom Grace began, edged herself off at the last moment. She supposed that Elizabeth and Amelia knew that he had given her leave to use his given name while at Belgrave, but still, it seemed disrespectful to do so when others were present.Your grace, she said, enunciating each word with careful resolve. You moldiness grant her extra patience this day. She is distraught.Grace sent up a appeal for forgiveness as she let everyone think the dowager had been upset by nothing more than an ordinary robbery. She wasnt precisely lying to Thomas, but she suspected that in this case the sin of omission could prove equally dangerous.She made herself smile. It fel t forced.Amelia? Are you unwell?Grace turned. Elizabeth was watching her sister with concern.Im perfectly fine, Amelia snapped, which was enough, of course, to show that she was not.The pair bickered for a moment, their voices low enough so Grace could not make out their exact words, and then Amelia rose, saying something about needing some air.Thomas stood, of course, and Grace rose to her feet as well. Amelia passed by and even reached the doorway before Grace complete that Thomas did not intend to follow.Good heavens, for a duke, his manners were abominable. Grace elbowed him in the ribs. Someone had to, she told herself. No one ever stood up to the man.Thomas shot her a dirty look, but he on the face of it realized that she was in the right, because he turned to Amelia, nodded his head the barest of inches, and said, Allow me to escort you.They departed, and Grace and Elizabeth sat silently for at least a minute before Elizabeth said resignedly,They are not a good match, are th ey?Grace glanced at the door, even though they had long since departed. She shook her head.It was huge. It was a castle, of course, and meant to be imposing, but really.Jack stood, open-mouthed.This was huge. cockeyed how no one had mentioned that his father was from a ducal family. Had anyone even known? He had always assumed his father had been the son of some jolly old country squire, maybe a baronet or possibly a baron. He had always been told that he was sired by John Cavendish, not Lord John Cavendish, as he must have been styled.And as for the old ladyJack had realized that morning that she had never given her name, but surely she was the duchess. She was far too imperious to be a maiden aunt or widowed relation.Good Lord. He was the grandson of a duke. How was that possible?Jack stared at the grammatical construction before him. He was not a complete provincial. Hed traveled widely whilst in the army and had gone to school with the sons of Irelands most notable families. Th e aristocracy was not inexplicable to him. He did not consider himself ill-fitting in their midst.But thisThis was huge.How many populate in the place? There had to be over a hundred. And what was the provenance? It didnt look quite medieval, despite the crenellations at the top, but it was certainly pre-Tudor. Something important must have happened there. Houses did not get this big without stumbling into the occasional historic event. A treaty, maybe? Perhaps a royal visit? It sounded like the sort of thing that would have been mentioned in school, which was probably why he didnt know it.A scholar he was not.The vista of the castle as hed approached had been deceptive. The area was bowed down(p) with trees, and the turrets and towers seemed to twinkle in and out of sight as he moved through the foliage. It was only when he reached the end of the drive that it had come completely into view abundant and amazing. The stone was gray in color, with a hint of a yellow undertone, and although its angles were broadly speaking squared off, there was nothing slow about the facade. It dipped and rose, jutted out and move back in. No long Georgian wall of windows was this.Jack couldnt even pretend how long it would take a freshman to find his way around inside. Or how long it would take to find the poor fellow once he got himself lost.And so he stood and stared, trying to take it in. What would it have been like to grow up there? His father had done so, and by all accounts hed been a nice enough fellow. Well, by one account, he supposed his Aunt Mary was the only person he knew whod known his father well enough to pass along a taradiddle or two.Still, it was difficult to imagine a family living there. His own home in Ireland had not been small by any standards, but still, with four children it often felt as if they were constantly crashing into one another.You couldnt go ten minutes or even ten steps without being move into a conversation with a first co usin or a brother or an aunt or even a dog. (Hed been a good dog, God rest his furry little soul. Better than most people.)They had known each other, the Audleys. It was, Jack had long since decided, a very good and very uncommon thing.After a few minutes there was a small flurry of movement at the front line door, then three women emerged.Two were blond. It was too far away to see their faces, but he could tell by the way they moved that they were young, and probably quite pretty. fair girls, hed long since learned, moved differently than the plain ones. It did not matter if they were aware of their smash or not. What they werent was aware of their plainness. Which the plain ones always were.Jack quirked a half smile. He supposed he was a bit of a scholar of women. Which, hed often tried to convince himself, was as noble a subject as any.But it was the triplet girl the last to emerge from the castle who captured his breath and held him motionless, unable to look away.It was the girl from the rigging the night before. He was sure of it. The hair was the right color glistening and dark, but it wasnt such a uncommon shade that it couldnt be found elsewhere. He knew it was her becausebecauseBecause he did.He remembered her. He remembered the way she moved, the way she felt pressed up against him. He remembered the soft breath of the air between their bodies when shed moved away.Hed liked her. He didnt often get the chance to like or dislike the people he waylaid, but hed been thinking to himself that there was something rather appealing about the flash of intelligence service in her eyes when the old lady had shoved her at him, giving him permission to hold a gun to her head.Hed not okay of that. But hed appreciated it all the same, because despicable her, holding her it had been an unexpected pleasure. And when the old lady returned with the miniature, his only thought had been that it was a leniency he didnt have time to kiss her properly.Jack he ld himself quietly as he watched her move in the drive, glancing over her shoulder, then leaning forward to say something to the other girls. One of the blondes linked arms with her and led her off to the side. They were friends, he realized with surprise, and he wondered if the girl his girl, as he was now thinking of her was something more than a companion. A poor relation, maybe? She was certainly not a daughter of the house, but it seemed she was not quite a servant.She adjusted the straps of her bonnet, and then she (What was her name? He wanted to know her name) pointed to something in the distance. Jack found himself glancing the same way, but there were too many trees framing the drive for him to see some(prenominal) had captured her interest.And then she turned.Faced him.Saw him.She did not cry out, nor did she flinch, but he knew that she saw him in the way sheIn the way she simply was, he supposed, because he could not see her face from such a distance. But he knew.His skin began to rachis with awareness, and it occurred to him that shed recognised him, too. It was preposterous, because he was all the way down the drive, and not wearing his highwaymans garb, but he knew that she knew she was staring at the man who had kissed her.The moment it could only have lasted stakes stretched into eternity. And then somewhere behind him a hiss cawed, snapping him from his trance, and one thought pounded through his head. prison term to go.He never stayed in one full stop for long, but here this place it was surely the most dangerous of all.He gave it one last look. Not of proneness he did not long for this. And as for the girl from the coach he fought down something strange and acrid, burning in his throat he would not long for her, either.Some things were simply untenable.Who was that man?Grace heard Elizabeth speak, but she pretended not to. They were school term in the Willoughbyscomfortable carriage, but their happy threesome now numbered fo ur.The dowager had, upon rising from her bed, taken one look at Amelias sun-kissed cheeks (Grace did think that she and Thomas had taken quite a long walk together, all things considered), and gone into a barely intelligible broadsheet about the proper decorum of a future duchess. It was not every day one heard a tongue containing dynasty, procreation, and sunspots all in one sentence.But the dowager had managed it, and now they were all miserable, Amelia most of all. The dowager had got it into her head that she needed to speak with Lady Crowland most probably about the supposed blemishes on Amelias skin and so she invited herself along for the ride, giving instructions to the Wyndham stables to ready a carriage and send it after them for the return journey.Grace had come along, too. Because, quite frankly, she didnt have any choice.Grace? It was Elizabeth again.Grace sucked in her lips and positively glued her eyes to a spot on the seat cushion just to the left of the dowage rs head.Who was it? Elizabeth persisted.No one, Grace said quickly. Are we ready to depart? She looked out the window, pretending to wonder why they were delay on the drive. Any moment now they would leave for Burges Park, where the Willoughbys lived. She had been dreading the journey, short though it was.And then shed seen him.The highwayman. Whose name wasnt Cavendish.But once was.He had left before the dowager emerged from the castle, turning his rise in a display of horsemanship so expert that even she, who was no equestrienne, recognize his skill.But he had seen her. And he had recognized her. She was certain of it.Shed felt it.Grace tapped her fingers impatiently against the side of her thigh. She thought of Thomas, and of the enormous portrait that had passed by the doorway of the sitting room. She thought of Amelia, who had been raised since birth to be the bride of a duke. And she thought of herself. Her world might not be quite what she wanted, but it was hers, and it wa s safe.One man had the power to send it all crashing down.Which was why, even though she would have traded a corner of her soul for just one more kiss from a man whose name she did not know, when Elizabeth remarked that it looked as if she knew him, she said, sharply, I do not.The dowager looked up, her face pinched with irritation. What are you talking about?There was a man at the end of the drive, Elizabeth said, before Grace could deny anything.The dowagers head snapped back in Graces direction. Who was it? she demanded.I dont know. I could not see his face. Which wasnt a lie. Not the second part, at least.Who was it? the dowager thundered, her voice rising over the sound of the wheels beginning their rumble down the drive.I dont know, Grace repeated, but even she could hear the cracks in her voice.Did you see him? the dowager asked Amelia.Graces eyes caught Amelias. Something passed between them.I saw no one, maam, said Amelia.The dowager dismissed her with a snort, turning the full weight of her fury on Grace. Was it he?Grace shook her head. I dont know, she stammered. I couldnt say.Stop the carriage, the dowager yelled, lurching forward and shoving Grace aside so she could bang on the wall separating the cabin and the driver. Stop, I tell youThe carriage came to a sudden stop, and Amelia, who had been sitting face front beside the dowager, tumbled forward, landing at Graces feet. She tried to get up but was blocked by the dowager, who had reached across the carriage to grab Graces chin, her long, ancient fingers digging cruelly into her skin.I will give you one more chance, Miss Eversleigh, she hissed. Was it he? discharge me, Grace thought.She nodded.