The Lost Duke of Wyndham (Two Dukes of Wyndham, #1)(20)

He half expected Miss Eversleigh to protest. Hell, any sane person would have run as far as possible from the upcoming confrontation. But she stood utterly still, her arms stick-straight at her sides, her only movement her throat as she swallowed.

"If you want me," he said quietly, "you will take her as well."

The dowager sucked a long, angry breath through her nose and jerked her head to the side. "Grace," she barked, "the crimson drawing room. Now."

Her name was Grace. He turned and looked at her. Her skin was pale and her eyes were wide and assessing.

Grace. He liked it. It fit her.

"Don't you want to know my name?" he called out to the dowager, who was already stalking down the hall.

She stopped and turned, as he knew she would.

"It's John," he announced, enjoying the way the blood drained from her face. "Jack to friends" - he looked at Grace with heavy-lidded seduction in his eyes - "and friends."

He could have sworn he felt her shiver, which delighted him.

"Are we?" he murmured.

Her lips parted a full second before she managed to make a sound. "Are we what?"

"Friends, of course."

"I - I - "

"Will you leave my companion alone!" the dowager barked.

He sighed and shook his head toward Miss Eversleigh. "She's so domineering, don't you think?"

Miss Eversleigh blushed. Truly, it was the prettiest pink he'd ever seen.

"Pity about these bindings," he continued. "We do seem to be caught in a romantic moment, your employer's acidic presence aside, and it would be far easier to drop one exquisite kiss on the back of your hand were I able to lift it with one of mine."

This time he was certain she shivered.

"Or your mouth," he whispered. "I might kiss your mouth."

There was a lovely silence, broken rather rudely by:

"What the devil?"

Miss Eversleigh jumped back a foot or three, and Jack turned to see an extremely angry man striding his way.

"Is this man bothering you, Grace?" he demanded.

She shook her head quickly. "No, no, he's not. But - "

The newcomer turned to Jack with furious blue eyes. Furious blue eyes that rather closely resembled those of the dowager, save for the bags and wrinkles. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" Jack countered, instantly disliking him.

"I am Wyndham," he shot back. "And you are in my home."

Jack blinked. A cousin. His new family was growing more charming by the second. "Ah. Well, in that case, I am Jack Audley. Formerly of His Majesty's esteemed army, more recently of the dusty road."

"Who are these Audleys?" the dowager demanded, crossing back over. "You are no Audley. It is there in your face. In your nose and chin and in every bloody feature save your eyes, which are quite the wrong color."

"The wrong color?" Jack responded, acting hurt. "Really?" He turned to Miss Eversleigh. "I was always told the ladies like green eyes. Was I misinformed?"

"You are a Cavendish!" the dowager roared. "You are a Cavendish, and I demand to know why I was not informed of your existence."

"What the devil is going on?" Wyndham demanded.

Jack thought it wasn't his duty to answer, so he happily kept quiet.

"Grace?" Wyndham asked, turning to Miss Eversleigh.

Jack watched the exchange with interest. They were friends, but were they friendly? He could not be sure.

Miss Eversleigh swallowed with noticeable discomfort. "Your grace," she said, "perhaps a word in private?"

"And spoil it for the rest of us?" Jack chimed in, because after what he'd been subjected to, he didn't much feel that anyone deserved a moment of privacy. And then, to achieve maximum irritation, he added, "After all I've been through..."

"He is your cousin," the dowager announced sharply.

"He is the highwayman," Miss Eversleigh said.

"Not," Jack added, turning to display his bound hands, "here of my own volition, I assure you."

"Your grandmother thought she recognized him last night," Miss Eversleigh told the duke.

"I knew I recognized him," the dowager snapped. Jack resisted the urge to duck as she flicked her hand at him. "Just look at him."

Jack turned to the duke. "I was wearing a mask." Because really, he shouldn't have to take the blame for this.

He smiled cheerfully, watching the duke with interest as he brought his hand to his forehead and pressed his temples with enough force to crush his skull. And then, just like that, his hand fell away and he yelled, "Cecil!"

Jack was about to make a quip about another lost cousin, but at that moment a footman - presumably named Cecil - came skidding down the hall.

"The portrait," Wyndham bit off. "Of my uncle."

"The one we just brought up to - "

"Yes. In the drawing room. Now! "

Even Jack's eyes widened at the furious energy in his voice.

And then - it was like acid in his belly - he saw Miss Eversleigh lay a hand on the duke's arm.

"Thomas," she said softly, surprising him with her use of his given name, "please allow me to explain."