Mr. Cavendish, I Presume
Page 25

The dowager recoiled, stunned that he would speak to her in that manner, and over someone she considered beneath notice. “I am your grandmother,” she bit off.
Audley did not remove his eyes from her face. “That remains to be determined.”
“What?” Thomas burst out, before he had the chance to temper his reaction.
Audley looked at him with cool assessment.
“Are you now trying to tell me,” Thomas said disbelievingly, “that you don’t think you are the son of John Cavendish?”
The other man shrugged, suddenly looking more like the rogue he’d been playing earlier. “Frankly, I’m not so certain I wish to gain entry into this charming little club of yours.”
“You don’t have a choice,” the dowager said.
Audley glanced at her sideways. “So loving. So thoughtful. Truly, a grandmother for the ages.”
Grace let out the choked sound that Thomas would have made—in any other circumstances. No, he would have laughed aloud, truly. But not now. Not with a potential usurper standing in his godforsaken drawing room.
“Your grace,” Grace said hesitantly, but he just didn’t want to hear it right now. He didn’t want to hear anything—no one’s opinions, no one’s suggestions, nothing.
Good God, they were all looking at him, waiting for him to make a decision, as if he were in charge.
Oh, now, that was rich. He didn’t even know who the bloody hell he was any longer. No one, possibly. No one at all. Certainly not the head of the family.
“Wyndham—” his grandmother began.
“Shut up,” he snapped. He grit his teeth, trying not to show weakness. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He turned to Audley— Jack, he supposed he ought start thinking of him, since he couldn’t quite manage to think of him as Cavendish, or God help him, Wyndham. “You should remain,” he said, hating the weary sound in his voice. “We will need—” Good Lord, he could hardly believe he was saying this. “We will need to get this sorted out.”
Audley did not answer immediately, and when he did, he sounded every bit as exhausted as Thomas felt. “Could someone please explain . . . ” He paused, pressing his fingers into his temples. Thomas knew that motion well. His own head was pounding like the devil.
“Could someone explain the family tree?” Audley finally asked.
“I had three sons,” the dowager said crisply. “Charles was the eldest, John the middle, and Reginald the last. Your father left for Ireland just after Reginald married”—her face took on a visible expression of dis-taste, and Thomas almost rolled his eyes as she jerked her head in his direction—“his mother.”
“She was a cit,” Thomas said, because hell, it wasn’t a secret. “Her father owned factories. Piles and piles of them.” Ah, the irony. “We own them now.”
The dowager did not acknowledge him, instead keeping her attention firmly on Audley. “We were notified of your father’s death in July of 1790. One year after that, my husband and my eldest son died of a fever.
I did not contract the ailment. My youngest son was no longer living at Belgrave, so he, too, was spared.
Charles had not yet married, and we believed John to have died without issue. Thus Reginald became duke.”
There was a brief pause, followed by: “It was not expected.”
And then everyone turned and looked at him. Wonderful. Thomas said nothing, refusing to give any indication that she deserved a reply.
“I will remain,” Audley finally said, and although he sounded resigned, as if he hadn’t been offered a choice, Thomas was not fooled. The man was a thief, for God’s sake. A thief who had been given a chance to legally snatch one of the highest titles in the land. Not to mention the riches that accompanied it.
Riches that were unfathomable. Even, at times, to him.
“Most judicious of you,” the dowager said, clapping her hands together. “Now then, we—”
“But first,” Audley cut in, “I must return to the inn to collect my belongings.” He glanced around the drawing room, as if mocking the opulence. “Meager though they are.”
“Nonsense,” the dowager said briskly. “Your things will be replaced.” She looked down her nose at his traveling costume. “With items of far greater quality, I might add.”
“I wasn’t asking your permission,” Audley responded coolly.
“Nonethe—”
“Furthermore,” he cut in, “I must make explanations to my associates.”
Thomas started to intercede. He could not have Audley spreading rumors across the county. Within a week it would be all over Britain. It wouldn’t matter if the claims were proved baseless. No one would ever judge him in the same way again. There would always be whispers.
He might not really be the duke.
There was another claim, hadn’t you heard? His own grandmother supported it.
It would be a bloody nightmare.
“Nothing approaching the truth,” Audley added dryly, with a look in his direction. It made Thomas uncomfortable. He did not like that he could be read so easily. And by this man, most especially.
“Don’t disappear,” the dowager directed. “I assure you, you will regret it.”
“There’s no worry of that,” Thomas said, echoing what they all had to know. “Who would disappear with the promise of a dukedom?”
Audley seemed not amused. Thomas didn’t much care.
“I will accompany you,” Thomas told him. He needed to take this man’s measure. He needed to see how he conducted himself, how he behaved with no female audience to woo.