He gave her a curt nod. “I had Mr. Audley’s belongings sent up to the blue silk bedroom.”

“Excellent choice,” his grandmother replied. “But I must repeat. Do not refer to him as Mr. Audley in my presence. I don’t know these Audleys, and I don’t care to know them.”

“I don’t know that they would care to know you, either.” This, from Mr. Audley, who had entered the room on swift but silent feet.

Thomas looked to his grandmother. She merely lifted a brow, as if to point out her own magnificence.

“Mary Audley is my late mother’s sister,” Audley stated. “She and her husband, William Audley, took me in at my birth. They raised me as their own and, at my request, gave me their name. I don’t care to relinquish it.”

Thomas could not help it. He was enjoying this.

Audley then turned to Grace and bowed. “You may refer to me as Mr. Audley if you wish, Miss Eversleigh.”

Grace bobbed an idiotic little curtsy then looked over at Thomas. For what? Asking permission?

“She can’t sack you for using his legal name,” Thomas said impatiently. Good God, this was getting tedious. “And if she does, I shall retire you with a lifelong bequest and have her sent off to some far-flung property.”

“It’s tempting,” Audley murmured. “How far can she be flung?”

Thomas almost smiled. As irritating as Audley was, he did have his moments. “I am considering adding to our holdings,” Thomas murmured. “The Outer Hebrides are lovely this time of year.”

“You’re despicable,” his grandmother hissed.

“Why do I keep her on?” Thomas wondered aloud. And then, because it had been a bloody long day, and he’d lost whatever comfort he’d gleaned from his ale, he walked over to a cabinet and poured himself a drink.

And then Grace spoke up, as she frequently did when she thought she was required to defend the dowager. “She is your grandmother.”

“Ah yes, blood.” Thomas sighed. He was beginning to feel punchy. And he wasn’t even the least bit soused. “I’m told it’s thicker than water. Pity.” He looked over at Audley. “You’ll soon learn.”

Audley just shrugged. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe Thomas just imagined it. He needed to get out of here, away from these three people, away from anything that screamed Wyndham or Cavendish or Belgrave or any one of the other fifteen honorifics attached to his name.

He turned, looking squarely at his grandmother. “And now my work here is done. I have returned the prodigal son to your loving bosom, and all is right with the world. Not my world,” he could not resist adding, “but someone’s world, I’m sure.”

“Not mine,” Audley said with a slow, careless smile. “In case you were interested.”

Thomas just looked at him. “I wasn’t.”