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“No, of course not.”

Grace waited in silence for him to say more. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, and he looked rather as if his head were aching. Trying to offer some sort of not unpleasant news, she said, “I’m quite sure that he did not reveal his…”

Oh, good heavens. How was she to put it?

“…identity to her,” she finished with a wince.

Thomas gave her a thoroughly awful look.

“It is not my fault, Thomas,” she retorted.

“I did not say that it was.” His voice was stiff, and he did not offer any more words before stalking off to the drawing room.

From the moment Grace rushed from the room, neither Jack nor Lady Amelia had uttered a word. It was as if they had reached an unspoken agreement; silence would prevail while they both tried to make out what was being said in the hall.

Jack had always considered himself better than average in the art of eavesdropping, but he was unable to catch even the sound of their whispers. Still, he had a fair idea of what was being said. Grace was warning Wyndham that the evil Mr. Audley had got his claws into the lovely and innocent Lady Amelia. And then Wyndham would curse—under his breath, of course, as he would never be so crass as to do so in front of a lady—and demand to know what had been said.

The whole thing would have been highly entertaining if not for her, and the morning. And the kiss.

Grace.

He wanted her back. He wanted the woman he’d held in his arms, not the one who’d stiffly walked the perimeter of the room with Lady Amelia, eyeing him as if he were going to steal the silver at any moment.

He supposed it was amusing. Somehow. And he supposed he ought to congratulate himself. Whatever she felt for him, it was not disinterest. Which would have been the cruelest response of all.

But for the first time, he was finding that his conquest of a lady was not a game to be played. He did not care about the thrill of the chase, about remaining one enjoyable and entertaining step ahead, about planning the seduction and then carrying it out with flair and flourish.

He simply wanted her.

Maybe even forever.

He glanced over at Lady Amelia. She was leaning forward, her head tilted ever so slightly to the side, as if to place her ear at the best possible angle.

“You won’t be able to hear them,” Jack said.

The look she gave him was priceless. And completely false.

“Oh, don’t pretend you weren’t trying,” he scolded. “I certainly was.”

“Very well.” Lady Amelia waited for a moment, then asked, “What do you suppose they are talking about?”

Ah, curiosity would always win out with this one. She was more intelligent than she let on at first acquaintance, he decided. He shrugged, feigning ignorance. “Difficult to say. I would never presume to understand the female mind, or that of our esteemed host.”

She turned sharply in surprise. “You do not like the duke?”

“I did not say that,” Jack replied. But of course they both knew that he had.

“How long do you stay at Belgrave?” she asked.

He smiled. “Eager to be rid of me, Lady Amelia?”

“Of course not. I saw the servants moving trunks about. I thought perhaps they were yours.”

He fought to keep his expression even. He did not know why he was surprised that the old biddy had already begun to pack. “I imagine they belong to the dowager,” he replied.

“Is she going somewhere?”

He almost laughed at the hopeful expression on her face. “Ireland,” he said absently, before it occurred to him that perhaps this woman of all people ought not to be let in on the plans.