“Aside from the fact that I cannot imagine why the dowager would wish to go to Ireland—not,” she hastened to add, as she recalled that this was his birthplace, “that I wouldn’t like to see your beautiful country, but it does not seem in character for the dowager, whom I have heard speak disparagingly of Northumberland, the Lake District, and indeed, all of Scotland.” She paused, trying to imagine the dowager enjoying the rigors of travel. “Ireland seems a bit of a stretch for her.”

He nodded graciously.

“But really, it makes no sense that she would wish for Wyndham to accompany her. They do not care for each other’s company.”

“How politely said, Lady Amelia. Does anyone care for their company?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. This was an even clearer declaration that he disliked Thomas. And said in his own house! It was really remarkably impolite.

And curious.

Just then, Thomas strode back into the room. “Amelia,” he said rather briskly, “I am afraid I will not be able to see you home. I do apologize.”

“Of course,” she replied, shooting a look at Mr. Audley, although why she would do so, she wasn’t quite sure.

“I shall make every arrangement for your comfort. Perhaps you would like to select a book from the library?”

“Can you read in a coach?” Mr. Audley queried.

“Can you not?” Amelia returned.

“I can. I can do almost anything in a coach. Or with a coach,” he added with an odd smile.

Thomas took her arm with a rather surprising firmness and pulled her to her feet.

“It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Audley,” Amelia said.

“Yes,” he murmured, “it does seem that you are leaving.”

“Amelia,” Thomas said curtly, leading her away.

“Is something wrong?” she asked him once they had reached the hall. She looked about for Grace, but she had disappeared.

“Of course not,” he said. “Merely matters to which I must attend.”

Amelia was about to ask about the upcoming trip to Ireland, but for some reason she did not. She wasn’t sure why; it was not a conscious decision, more of a feeling than anything else. Thomas seemed so distracted. She did not wish to upset him further.

And aside from that, she rather doubted he would answer her honestly if she did ask. He would not lie; that would be entirely out of his character. But he would brush off the query with something vague and condescending, and she would lose all the lovely feelings she had gained that morning.

“Might I take with me one of the atlases?” she asked. The trip home would be less than an hour, but she had so enjoyed looking at the maps. It was something they had done together, their heads bowed over the books, their foreheads nearly touching.

The outline of a continent, the pale blue shading of an ocean on the page—these would forever make her think of him.