“Ma’am,” Grace said, in that calm, soothing way of hers, “it is past seven. We are all tired and hungry, and the roads are dark and unknown to us.”
“Not to him,” the dowager snapped, jerking her head toward Jack.
“I am tired and hungry,” Jack snapped right back, “and thanks to you, I no longer travel the roads by moonlight.”
Thomas bit back a smile. He might actually grow to like this fellow.
“Don’t you wish to have this matter settled, once and for all?” the dowager demanded.
“Not really,” Jack answered. “Certainly not as much as I want a slice of shepherd’s pie and a tankard of ale.”
“Hear hear,” Thomas murmured, but only Amelia heard.
It was strange, but his mood had been improving the closer they got to their destination. He would have thought he’d grow more and more tortured; he was about to lose everything, after all, right down to his name. By his estimation, he ought to be snapping off heads by now.
But instead he felt almost cheerful.
Cheerful. It was the damnedest thing. He’d spent the entire morning on deck with Amelia, swapping tales and laughing uproariously. It had been enough to make his stomach forget to be seasick.
Thank the Lord, he thought, for very large favors. It had been a close thing, the night before-keeping the three bites he’d eaten of supper in his belly, where it belonged.
He wondered if his odd amiability was because he had already accepted that Jack was the rightful duke. Once he had stopped fighting that, he just wanted to get the whole bloody mess over and done with. The waiting, truly, was the hardest part.
He’d gotten his affairs in order. He’d done everything required for a smooth transition. All that was left was to get it done. And then he could go off and do whatever it was he would have done had he not been tied to Belgrave.
Somewhere in the midst of his ponderings he realized that Jack was leaving, presumably to get that slice of shepherd’s pie. “I do believe he has the right idea of it,” Thomas murmured. “Supper sounds infinitely more appealing than a night on the roads.”
His grandmother whipped her head around and glared at him.
“Not,” Thomas added, “that I am attempting to delay the inevitable. Even soon-to-be-dispossessed dukes get hungry.”
Lord Crowland laughed aloud at that. “He has you there, Augusta,” he said jovially, and he wandered off to the taproom.
“I shall take my supper in my room,” the dowager announced. Or really, it was more of a bark. “Miss Eversleigh, you may attend to me.”
Grace sighed wearily and started to follow.
“No,” Thomas said.
“No?” the dowager echoed.
Thomas allowed himself a small smile. He truly had got all of his affairs in order. “Grace will dine with us,” he told his grandmother. “In the dining room.”
“She is my companion,” the dowager hissed.
Oh, he was enjoying this. Far more than he’d thought. “Not anymore.” He smiled genially at Grace, who was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. “As I have not yet been removed from my position,” he said, “I took the liberty of making a few last minute provisions.”
“What the devil are you talking about?” the dowager demanded.
He ignored her. “Grace,” he said, “you are officially relieved of your duties to my grandmother. When you return home, you will find a cottage deeded in your name, along with funds enough to provide an income for the rest of your life.”
“Are you mad?” the dowager sputtered.
Grace just stared at him in shock.
“I should have done it long ago,” he said. “I was too selfish. I couldn’t bear the thought of living with her”-he jerked his head toward his grandmother-“without you there to act as a buffer.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Grace whispered.
He shrugged modestly. “Normally, I’d advise ‘Thank you,’ but as I am the one thanking you, a mere ‘You are a prince among men’ would suffice.”
Grace managed a wobbly smile and whispered, “You are a prince among men.”
“It is always lovely to hear it,” Thomas said. “Now, would you care to join the rest of us for supper?”
Grace turned toward the dowager, who was red-faced with rage.
“You grasping little whore,” she spat. “Do you think I don’t know what you are? Do you think I would allow you in my home again?”
Thomas was about to intercede, but then he realized that Grace was handling the situation with far more aplomb than he could ever have managed.
Her face calm and impassive, she said, “I was about to say that I would offer you my assistance for the rest of the journey, since I would never dream of leaving a post without giving proper and courteous notice, but I believe I have reconsidered.” She turned to Amelia. “May I share your room this evening?”
“Of course,” Amelia replied promptly. She linked her arm through Grace’s. “Let us have some supper.”
It was a magnificent exit, Thomas decided as he followed them, even if he could not see his grandmother’s face. But he could well imagine it, red and sputtering. A cooler clime would do her good. Truly. He would have to take it up with the new duke.
“That was magnificent!” Amelia gushed, once they’d entered the dining room. “Oh, my goodness, Grace, you must be so thrilled.”
Grace looked dazed. “I hardly know what to say.”
“You needn’t say anything,” Thomas told her. “Just enjoy your supper.”
“Oh, I shall.” She turned to Amelia, looking as if she might burst out laughing at any moment. “I suspect this shall be the finest shepherd’s pie I have ever tasted.”
And then she did burst out laughing. They all did. They had their supper, the three of them, and they laughed and laughed and laughed.
And as Thomas drifted off to sleep that night, his ribs still aching from the laughter, it occurred to him that he could not recall a finer evening.
Amelia had enjoyed herself at supper as well. So much so, in fact, that the tension of the following morning hit her like a slap. She thought she’d risen early; Grace was still sleeping soundly when she slipped from the room to find breakfast. But when she reached the inn’s private dining room, her father was already there, as was the dowager. There was no sneaking away; they had both seen her instantly, and besides, she was famished.
She supposed she could put up with her father’s lectures (they had been coming with increasing frequency) and the dowager’s venom (this had always been frequent) if it meant she could partake of whatever it was creating that heavenly, eggy aroma coming from the sideboard.
Eggs, probably.
She smiled. At least she could still amuse herself. That had to count for something.
“Good morning, Amelia,” her father said as she sat down with her plate.
She dipped her chin in polite greeting. “Father.” She then glanced over at the dowager. “Your grace.”
The dowager pursed her lips and made a noise, but other than that did not acknowledge her.
“Did you sleep well?” her father inquired.
“Very well, thank you,” she replied, though it was not quite true. She and Grace had shared a bed, and Grace moved around a lot.
“We depart in half an hour,” the dowager said crisply.
Amelia had managed to fork one bite of eggs into her mouth, and took advantage of the time it took to chew to glance over at the doorway, which remained empty. “I don’t think the others will be ready. Grace is still-”
“She is of no concern.”
“You can’t go anywhere without the two dukes,” Lord Crowland pointed out.
“Is that supposed to be funny?” the dowager demanded.
Lord Crowland shrugged. “How else am I meant to refer to them?”
Amelia knew she ought to have been outraged. It was a most cavalier statement, all things considered. But her father was so offhand, and the dowager so offended-she decided it made far more sense to be amused.