“I demand to know what is going on,” Crowland said.

“Of course,” Thomas said. “How rude of me. Where are my manners? We’ve had quite an exciting week at Belgrave. Quite beyond my wildest imaginings.”

“Your meaning?” Crowland said curtly.

Thomas gave him a bland look. “Ah, yes. You probably should know—this man right here”—he flicked a wrist toward Audley—“is my cousin. He might even be the duke.” Still looking at Lord Crowland, he shrugged insolently, almost enjoying himself. “We’re not sure.”

Chapter 14

Oh dear God.

Amelia stared at Thomas, and then at Mr. Audley, and then at Thomas, and then—

Everyone was looking at her now. Why was everyone looking at her? Had she spoken? Had she said it aloud?

“The trip to Ireland…” her father was saying.

“Is to determine his legitimacy,” Thomas said. “It’s going to be quite a party. Even my grandmother is going.”

Amelia stared at him in horror. He was not himself. This was wrong. This was all wrong.

It could not be happening. She shut her eyes. Tight.

Please, someone say that this was not happening.

And then came her father’s grim voice. “We will join you.”

Her eyes flew open. “Father?”

“Stay out of this, Amelia,” he said. He didn’t even look at her when he said it.

“But—”

“I assure you,” Thomas put in, and he wasn’t looking at her, either, “we will make our determinations with all possible haste and report back to you immediately.”

“My daughter’s future hangs in the balance,” her father returned hotly. “I will be there to examine the papers.”

Thomas’s voice turned to ice. “Do you think we try to deceive you?”

Amelia took a step toward them. Why wasn’t anyone acknowledging her? Did they think her invisible? Meaningless in this horrible tableau?

“I only look out for my daughter’s rights.”

“Father, please.” Amelia placed her hand on his arm. Someone had to talk to her. Someone had to listen. “Please, just a moment.”

“I said stay out of this!” her father roared, and he threw back his arm. Amelia had not expected this rejection and she stumbled back, crashing into an end table.

Thomas was immediately at her side, taking her arm and helping her back to her feet. “Apologize to your daughter,” he said, his tone deadly.

Her father looked stunned. “What the devil are you talking about?”

“Apologize to her!” Thomas roared.

“Your grace,” Amelia said quickly, “please, do not judge my father too harshly. These are exceptional circumstances.”

“No one knows that more clearly than I.” As Thomas said this to her, his eyes never left her father’s face. “Apologize to Amelia,” he said, “or I will have you removed from the estate.”

Amelia held her breath. They were all holding their breath, it seemed, except perhaps Thomas, who looked like an ancient warrior, demanding his due.

“I’m sorry,” her father said, blinking in confusion. “Amelia”—he turned, finally looking at her—“you know I—”