“I know,” she said, cutting him off. It was enough. She knew her father, knew his normally benign ways.

“Who is this man?” her father asked, motioning to Mr. Audley.

“He is the son of my father’s elder brother.”

“Charles?” Amelia gasped in dismay. The man her mother was to have married?

“John.”

The one who’d died at sea. The dowager’s favorite.

Her father nodded, pale and shaken. “Are you certain of this?”

Thomas only shrugged. “You may look at the portrait yourself.”

“But his name—”

“Was Cavendish at birth,” Mr. Audley said. “I went by Cavendish-Audley at school. You may check the records, should you wish.”

“Here?” her father asked.

“In Enniskillen. I only came to England after serving in the army.”

Amelia’s father nodded approvingly. He’d always wanted to join the military, she remembered. He couldn’t, of course. He’d gained the earldom at the age of seventeen, with no male heirs behind him. Crowland could not risk losing the last earl before he’d had a chance to procreate. As it was, he’d had five daughters. Amelia wondered if he sometimes wished he’d just gone into the army. The outcome would have been the same, as far as the earldom was concerned.

“I am satisfied that he is a blood relation,” Thomas said quietly. “All that remains is to determine whether he is also one by law.”

“This is a disaster,” her father muttered, and he walked over to the window to look out.

All eyes followed him—what else were they meant to look at, in such a silent room?

“I signed the contract in good faith,” he said, still staring out over the lawn. “Twenty years ago, I signed the contract.”

Amelia’s eyes widened. She’d never heard her father speak this way. His voice was tense, barely controlled, like a string pulled taut and trembling, just waiting to snap.

Abruptly, he turned around. “Do you understand?” he demanded, and it was difficult to know just who he was yelling at until his eyes came to rest on Thomas’s face.

“Your father came to me with his plans, and I agreed to them, believing you to be the rightful heir to the dukedom. She was to be a duchess. A duchess! Do you think I would have signed away my daughter had I known you were nothing but…but…”

Her father’s face turned red and ugly as he tried to figure out just what Thomas was. Or would be, if Mr. Audley’s claim was authenticated. Amelia felt sick. For herself. For Thomas.

“You may call me Mr. Cavendish, if you so desire,” Thomas said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “If you think it might help you to accustom yourself to the idea.”

But her father was not finished. “I will not allow my daughter to be cheated. If you do not prove to be the right and lawful Duke of Wyndham, you may consider the betrothal null and void.”

No!