He put his finger to his lips and shut the door behind them. “Were you expecting someone else?” he asked, since her surprise had seemed more to the who than the actual event.

“No, of course not,” she said quickly. But her skin colored all the same. She looked about the room, probably to discern if they were alone. “What is wrong?”

“I needed to speak with you before you see Lady Amelia.”

“Oh, then you know she is here?”

“I brought her,” he confirmed.

Grace silenced, her face showing her surprise. She glanced over at the mantel clock, which revealed the time to be still before noon.

“It is a long story,” he said preemptively. “But suffice it to say, Amelia will inform you that you were in Stamford this morning, and you invited her back to Belgrave.”

“Thomas, any number of people know quite well that I was not in Stamford this morning.”

“Yes, but her mother is not among that number.”

“Er, Thomas…” Grace began, sounding very much as if she was not certain how to proceed. “I feel I must tell you, given the number of delays thus far, I would imagine that Lady Crowland would be delighted to know—”

“Oh for God’s sake, it is nothing like that,” he muttered, half expecting her to cry out, “Despoiler of innocents!”

He ground his teeth together, not at all enjoying the singular experience of having to explain his actions to another human being. “She assisted me home when I was…impaired.”

“That was most charitable of her,” Grace said primly.

Thomas glared at her. She looked as if she were about to laugh.

Grace cleared her throat. “Have you, er, considered tidying up?”

“No,” he bit off, all sarcasm now, “I rather enjoy looking like a slovenly fool.”

She winced—audibly—at that.

“Now listen,” he continued, eager to bypass her embarrassment, “Amelia will repeat what I have told you, but it is imperative that you not tell her about Mr. Audley.” He nearly growled the last; it was difficult to utter his name without an accompanying wave of revulsion.

“I would never do that,” Grace replied. “It is not my place.”

“Good.” He’d known he could trust her.

“But she will want to know why you were, er…”

“You don’t know why,” he said firmly. “Just tell her that. Why would she suspect that you would know more?”

“She knows that I consider you a friend,” Grace said. “And furthermore, I live here. Servants always know everything. She knows that, too.”

“You’re not a servant,” he muttered.

“I am and you know it,” she replied, her lips twitching with amusement. “The only difference is that I am allowed to wear finer clothing and occasionally converse with the guests. But I assure you, I am privy to all of the household gossip.”