Mr. Cavendish, I Presume

And she moaned again.

“We had better return,” he said roughly, stepping back. Then he realized he’d never done the last button of her frock. He swore under his breath, because it couldn’t possibly be a good idea to touch her again, but he couldn’t very well send her back to the house like that, so back to the buttons he went, moving with considerably more diligence this time.

“There you are,” he muttered.

She turned, eyeing him warily. It made him feel like a despoiler of innocents.

And oddly, he didn’t mind. He held out his arm. “Shall I escort you back?”

She nodded, and he had the strangest, most intense need in that moment-

To know what she was thinking.

Funny, that. He’d never cared to know what anyone had thought before.

But he didn’t ask. Because he didn’t do such things. And really, what was the need? They’d marry eventually, so it didn’t matter what either of them thought, did it?

Amelia hadn’t thought it was possible for a blush of embarrassment to stain one’s cheeks for a full hour, but clearly it was, because when the dowager intercepted her in the hall, at least sixty minutes after she had rejoined Grace and Elizabeth in the drawing room, the dowager took one look at her face and her own face went nearly purple with fury.

Now she was stuck, standing like a tree in the hall, forced to remain motionless as the dowager snapped away at her, her voice rising to an astonishing crescendo on, “Damn damn freckles!”

Amelia flinched. The dowager had berated her for her freckles before (not that they even numbered in the double digits), but this was the first time her anger had turned profane.

“I don’t have any new freckles,” she ground out, wondering how Wyndham had managed to escape this scene. He’d slipped away the moment he returned her, pink-cheeked, to the drawing room, a sitting duck for the dowager, who had always held the sun in about as much affection as did a vampire bat.

Which did hold a certain ironic justice, as she held the dowager in about as much affection as she did a vampire bat.

The dowager drew back at her comment. “What did you just say?”

As Amelia had never talked back to her before, she could not be surprised at her reaction. But she seemed to be turning over a new leaf these days, one of assertiveness and cheek, so she swallowed and said, “I don’t have any new freckles. I looked in the washroom mirror and counted.”

It was a lie, and a very satisfying one at that.

The dowager’s mouth pinched like a fish. She glared at Amelia for a good ten seconds, which was nine seconds longer than was required to make Amelia squirm, and then barked, “Miss Eversleigh!”

Grace practically leapt through the drawing room doorway and into the hall.

The dowager seemed not to notice her arrival and continued with her tirade. “Does no one care about our name? Our blood? Good God above, am I the only person in this damnable world who understands the importance of…the meaning of…”

Amelia stared at the dowager in horror. For a moment it looked as if she might cry. Which could not be possible. The woman was biologically incapable of tears. She was sure of it.

Grace stepped forward, stunning them all when she placed her arm around the dowager’s shoulders. “Ma’am,” she said soothingly, “it has been a difficult day.”

“It has not been difficult,” the dowager snapped, shaking her off. “It has been anything but difficult.”

“Ma’am,” Grace said again, and again Amelia marveled at the gentle calmness of her voice.

“Leave me alone!” the dowager roared. “I have a dynasty to worry about! You are nothing! Nothing!”

Grace lurched back. Amelia saw her throat work, and she could not tell if she was near tears or absolute fury.

“Grace?” she said carefully, and she wasn’t even sure what she was asking, just that she thought she should say something.

Grace responded with a quick little shake of her head that clearly meant don’t ask, leaving Amelia to wonder just what, exactly, had happened the night before. Because no one was acting normally. Not Grace, not the dowager, and certainly not Wyndham.

Apart from his disappearance from the scene. That, at least, was precisely as expected.

“We will accompany Lady Amelia and her sister back to Burges Park,” the dowager ordered. “Miss Eversleigh, have our carriage readied at once. We will ride with our guests and then return in our own conveyance.”

Grace’s lips parted with surprise, but she was accustomed to the dowager and her furious whims, and so she nodded and hurried toward the front of the castle.

“Elizabeth!” Amelia said desperately, spotting her sister in the doorway. The traitorous wretch had already turned on the ball of her foot and was attempting to slink away, leaving her to deal with the dowager by herself.

Amelia reached out and grabbed her elbow, reeling her in with a teeth-grinding, “Sister, dear.”

“My tea,” Elizabeth said feebly, motioning toward the drawing room.

“Is cold,” Amelia said firmly.

Elizabeth attempted a weak smile in the dowager’s direction, but the expression did not make it much beyond grimace.

“Sarah,” the dowager said.

Elizabeth didn’t bother to correct her.

“Or Jane,” the dowager snapped. “Which is it?”

“Elizabeth,” Elizabeth said.

The dowager’s eyes narrowed, as if she didn’t quite believe her, and her nostrils flared most unattractively as she said, “I see you accompanied your sister again.”

“She accompanied me,” Elizabeth said, in what Amelia was quite certain was the most controversial sentence she’d ever uttered in the dowager’s presence.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Er, I was returning the books my mother borrowed,” Elizabeth stammered.

“Bah! Your mother doesn’t read, and we all know it. It’s a silly and transparent excuse to send her”-at this she motioned to Amelia-“into our midst.”

Amelia’s lips parted with surprise, because she’d always thought that the dowager wanted her in her midst. Not that the dowager liked her, just that she wanted her to hurry up and marry her grandson so she might start growing little Wyndhams in her belly.

“It’s an acceptable excuse,” the dowager grumbled, “but it hardly seems to be working. Where is my grandson?”

“I do not know, your grace,” Amelia answered. Which was the absolute truth. He’d not given her any indication of his plans when he abandoned her earlier. He’d apparently kissed her so senseless he hadn’t thought any explanations were necessary.

“Stupid chit,” the dowager muttered. “I don’t have time for this. Does no one understand their duty? I’ve heirs dying off right and left, and you”-at this she shoved Amelia in the shoulder-“can’t even lift your skirts to-”

“Your grace!” Amelia exclaimed.

The dowager’s mouth clamped shut, and for a moment Amelia thought she might have realized she’d gone too far. All she did, however, was narrow her eyes to vicious little slits and stalk off.

“Amelia?” Elizabeth said, moving to her side.

Amelia blinked. Several times. Quickly. “I want to go home.”

Elizabeth nodded comfortingly.

Together the sisters walked toward the front door. Grace was giving instructions to a footman, so they walked outside and waited for her in the drive. The afternoon had grown a bit chilly, but Amelia would not have cared if the heavens had opened up and drenched them both. She just wanted to be out of that wretched house. “I’m not coming next time,” she said to Elizabeth, hugging her arms to her chest. If Wyndham wished to finally court her, he