Mr. Cavendish, I Presume

there was nothing to say. Nothing to ask.

And so he didn’t. For the rest of the journey he said nothing. Hours passed, and the air around him chilled with the night. They passed through charming little villages, through the larger, busier Cavan town, and then finally through Butlersbridge.

It ought to look sinister, Thomas thought. The shadows ought to be stretched and misshapen, and there should have been strange animal sounds, howling through the night.

This was where his life would be pulled out from beneath him. It did not seem right that it should appear so picturesque.

Jack was just a bit ahead, and he’d slowed down considerably. Thomas drew up alongside, then slowed his horse to keep an even pace. “Is this the road?” he asked quietly.

Jack nodded. “Just around the bend.”

“They are not expecting you, are they?”

“No.” Jack nudged his horse on into a trot, but Thomas held his to a walk, allowing Jack to go on ahead. There were some things a man needed to do alone.

At the very least, he could attempt to hold the dowager back while Jack made his homecoming.

He slowed as best as he could, positioning his mount so the carriage was forced to slow as well. At the end of the short drive he could see Jack dismount, climb the front steps, and knock on the door. A shaft of light streamed out when it was opened, but Thomas could not hear any words that were exchanged.

The carriage was parked to the side of the entry-way, and the dowager was helped down by one of the grooms. She started to charge forward, but Thomas quickly slid from his saddle and grabbed her arm to hold her back.

“Let go of me,” she snapped, attempting to break free.

“For the love of God, woman,” Thomas shot back, “give him a moment with his relatives.”

“We are his relatives.”

“Have you not a single ounce of sensibility?”

“There are far greater matters at stake than-”

“There is nothing that cannot wait two more minutes. Nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m certain you think so.”

Thomas swore, and not under his breath. “I have come this far, have I not? I have treated him with civility, and even lately with respect. I have listened to your vitriol and incessant complaining. I have ridden across two countries, slept in the bottom of a boat, and even-and this, I might add, was really the final insult-handed over my fiancee. I believe I have proven that I am prepared for whatever this place has to offer. But by all that is holy, I will not give up what shred of human decency I have managed to retain after growing up in a house with you.”

Over her shoulder he could see Grace and Amelia, both open-mouthed, both staring.

“The man,” he said through gritted teeth, “can have two bloody minutes with his family.”

His grandmother stared at him for one long, icy second, and then said, “Do not curse in my presence.”

Thomas was so dumbfounded by her complete lack of response to anything he’d said that he loosened his grip on her arm, and she wrenched away, hurrying over to the front steps, just behind Jack, who was embracing a woman Thomas imagined was his aunt.

“Ahem,” the dowager said, as only she could.

Thomas strode forward, ready to intercede if necessary.

“You must be the aunt,” the dowager said to the woman on the steps.

Mrs. Audley just stared at her. “Yes,” she finally replied. “And you are…?”

“Aunt Mary,” Jack cut in, “I am afraid I must introduce you to the dowager Duchess of Wyndham.”

Mrs. Audley let go of him and curtsied, stepping aside as the dowager swept past her. “The Duchess of Wyndham?” she echoed. “Good heavens, Jack, couldn’t you have sent notice?”

Jack’s smile was grim. “It is better this way, I assure you.” He turned to Thomas. “The Duke of Wyndham,” he said, motioning with his arm. “Your grace-my aunt, Mrs. Audley.”

Thomas bowed. “I am honored to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Audley.”

She stammered something in response, clearly nonplussed by the arrival of a duke.

Jack completed the introductions, and the ladies were making their curtsies when Mrs. Audley pulled him aside. She spoke in a whisper, but her tone held enough panic that Thomas could hear every word.

“Jack, I haven’t the rooms. We have nothing grand enough-”

“Please, Mrs. Audley,” Thomas said, dipping his head in a gesture of respect, “do not put yourself out on my accord. It was unforgivable for us to arrive without notice. I would not expect you to go to any great lengths. Although perhaps your finest room for my grandmother.” He tried not to sound too weary as he added, “It will be easier for everyone.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Audley said quickly. “Please, please, it’s chilly. You must all come inside. Jack, I do need to tell you-”

“Where is your church?” the dowager demanded.

Thomas nearly groaned. Could she not wait until they were even shown in?

“Our church?” Mrs. Audley asked, looking to Jack in complete confusion. “At this hour?”

“I do not intend to worship,” the dowager snapped. “I wish to inspect the records.”

“Does Vicar Beveridge still preside?” Jack asked, clearly trying to cut the dowager off.

“Yes,” his aunt replied, “but he will surely be abed. It’s half nine, I should think, and he is an early riser. Perhaps in the morning. I-”

“This is a matter of dynastic importance,” the dowager interrupted. “I don’t care if it’s after midnight. We-”

“I care,” Jack cut in. “You are not going to pull the vicar out of bed. You have waited this long. You can bloody well wait until morning.”

Thomas wanted to applaud.

“Jack!” Mrs. Audley gasped. She turned to the dowager. “I did not raise him to speak this way.”

“No, you didn’t,” Jack said, but he glared at the dowager.

“You were his mother’s sister, weren’t you?” the dowager said to Mrs. Audley.

Who looked rather startled by the sudden change of topic. “I am.”

“Were you present at her wedding?”

“I was not.”

Jack turned to her in surprise. “You weren’t?”

“No. I could not attend. I was in confinement. I never told you. It was a stillbirth.” Her face softened. “Just one of the reasons I was so happy to have you.”

“We shall make for the church in the morning,” the dowager declared. “First thing. We shall find the papers and be done with it.”

“The papers?” Mrs. Audley echoed.

“Proof of the marriage,” the dowager practically snarled. “Are you daft?”

That was too much. Thomas reached out and pulled her back, which was probably in her best interest, as Jack looked as if he might go for her throat.

“Louise was not married in the Butlersbridge church,” Mrs. Audley said. “She was married at Maguiresbridge. In County Fermanagh, where we grew up.”

“How far is that?” the dowager demanded, tugging at her arm.

Thomas held firm.

“Twenty miles, your grace,” Mrs. Audley replied before turning back to her nephew. “Jack? What is this all about? Why do you need proof of your mother’s marriage?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat and said, “My father was her son,” with a nod toward the dowager.

“Your father,” Mrs. Audley gasped. “John Cavendish, you mean…”

Thomas stepped forward, feeling strangely prepared to take charge of the rapidly deteriorating situation. “May I intercede?”