“Yes. In the drawing room.” And when Cecil did not move fast enough, Thomas practically barked, “Now!”

He felt a hand on his arm. “Thomas,” Grace said quietly, obviously trying to settle his nerves. “Please, allow me to explain.”

“Did you know about this?” he demanded, shaking her off.

“Yes,” she said, “but—”

He couldn’t believe it. Grace. The one person he had come to trust for complete honesty. “Last night,” he clarified, and he realized that he bloody well treasured last night. His life was sorely lacking in moments of pure, unadulterated friendship. The moment on the stairs, bizarre as it was, had been one of them. And that, he thought, had to explain the gut-punched feeling he got when he looked at her guilty face. “Did you know last night?”

“I did, but Thomas—”

“Enough,” he spat. “Into the drawing room. All of you.”

Grace tried to get his attention again, but he ignored her. Mr. Audley—his bloody cousin!—had his lips puckered together, as if he might whistle a happy tune at any moment. And his grandmother…well, the devil only knew what she was thinking. She looked dyspeptic, but then again, she always looked dyspeptic. But she was watching Audley with an intensity that was positively frightening. Audley, for his part, seemed not to notice her maniacal stare. He was too busy ogling Grace.

Who looked miserable. As well she should.

Thomas swore viciously under his breath and slammed the door to the drawing room shut once they were all out of the hall. Audley held up his hands and cocked his head to the side. “D’you think you might…?”

“For the love of Christ,” Thomas muttered, grabbing a letter opener off a nearby writing table. He grasped one of Audley’s hands and with one angry swipe sliced through the bindings.

“Thomas,” Grace said, situating herself in front of him. Her eyes were urgent as she said, “I really think you ought to let me speak with you for a moment before—”

“Before what?” he snapped. “Before I am informed of another long-lost cousin whose head may or may not be wanted by the Crown?”

“Not by the Crown, I think,” Audley said mildly, “but surely a few magistrates. And a vicar or two.” He turned to the dowager. “Highway robbery is not generally considered the most secure of all possible occupations.”

“Thomas.” Grace glanced nervously over at the dowager, who was glowering at her. “Your grace,” she corrected, “there is something you need to know.”

“Indeed,” he bit off. “The identities of my true friends and confidantes, for one thing.”

Grace flinched as if struck, but Thomas brushed aside the momentary pang of guilt that struck his chest. She’d had ample time to fill him in the night before. There was no reason he should have come into this situation completely unprepared.

“I suggest,” Audley said, his voice light but steady, “that you speak to Miss Eversleigh with greater respect.”