Lord Crowland laughed aloud at that. "He has you there, Augusta," he said jovially, and wandered off to the taproom.
"I shall take my supper in my room," the dowager announced. Her tone was defiant, as if she expected someone to protest, but of course, no one did. "Miss Eversleigh," she barked, "you may attend to me. "
Grace sighed wearily and started to follow.
"No," Thomas said.
The dowager froze. "No?" she echoed, all ice.
Grace turned and looked at Thomas. What could he mean? There had been nothing unusual about the dowager's order. Grace was her companion. This was exactly the sort of thing she had been hired to do.
But Thomas stared down his grandmother, a tiny, subversive smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Grace will dine with us. In the dining room. "
"She is my companion," the dowager hissed.
"Not anymore. "
Grace held her breath as she watched the exchange. Matters between Thomas and his grandmother were never cordial, but this seemed to go quite beyond the usual. Thomas almost appeared to be enjoying himself.
"As I have not yet been removed from my position," he said, speaking slowly, clearly savoring each word, "I took the liberty of making a few last minute provisions. "
"What the devil are you talking about?" the dowager demanded.
"Grace," Thomas said, turning to her with friendship and memories in his eyes, "you are officially relieved of your duties to my grandmother. When you return home, you will find a cottage deeded in your name, along with funds enough to provide an income for the rest of your life. "
"Are you mad?" the dowager sputtered.
Grace just stared at him in shock.
"I should have done it long ago," he said. "I was too selfish. I couldn't bear the thought of living with her" - he jerked his head toward his grandmother - "without you there to act as a buffer. "
"I don't know what to say," she whispered.
"Normally, I'd advise 'thank you,' but as I am the one thanking you, a mere 'You are a prince among men' would suffice. "
Grace managed a wobbly smile and whispered, "You are a prince among men. "
"It is always lovely to hear it," Thomas said. "Now, would you care to join the rest of us for supper?"
Grace turned toward the dowager, who was red-faced with rage.
"You grasping little whore," she spat. "Do you think I don't know what you are? Do you think I would allow you in my home again?"
Grace stared at her in calm shock, then said, "I was about to say that I would offer you my assistance for the rest of the journey, since I would never dream of leaving a post without giving proper and courteous notice, but I believe I have reconsidered. " She turned to Amelia, holding her hands carefully at her sides.
She was shaking. She was not sure if it was from shock or delight, but she was shaking. "May I share your room this evening?" she asked Amelia. Because certainly she was not going to remain with the dowager.
"Of course," Amelia replied promptly. She linked her arm through Grace's. "Let us have some supper. "
It was, Grace later decided, the finest shepherd's pie she'd ever tasted.
Several hours later, Grace was up in her room staring out the window while Amelia slept.
Grace had tried to go to sleep, but her mind was still all abuzz over Thomas's astounding act of generosity. Plus, she wondered where Jack had gone off to - he'd not been in the dining room when she and Thomas and Amelia arrived, and no one seemed to know what had happened to him.
Plus plus, Amelia snored.
Grace rather enjoyed the view of Dublin below. They were not in the city center, but the street was busy enough, with local folk going about their business, and plenty of travelers on their way into or out of the port.
It was strange, this newfound sense of freedom. She still could not believe that she was here, sharing a bed with Amelia and not curled up on an uncomfortable chair at the dowager's bedside.
Supper had been a merry affair. Thomas was in remarkably good spirits, all things considered. He had not said anything more of his generous gift, but Grace knew why he'd done it. If Jack was found to be the true duke - and Thomas was convinced this would be the case - then she could not remain at Belgrave.
To have her heart broken anew, every day for the rest of her life - that, she could not bear.
Thomas knew that she'd fallen in love with Jack. She had not s
aid so, not expressly, but he knew her well. He had to know. For him to act with such generosity, when she'd gone and fallen in love with the man who might very well be the cause of his downfall -
It brought tears to her eyes every time she thought of it.
And so now she was independent. An independent woman! She liked the sound of that. She would sleep until noon every day. She would read books. She would wallow in the sheer laziness of it all, at least for a few months, and then find something constructive to do with her time. A charity, perhaps. Or maybe she would learn to paint watercolors.
It sounded decadent. It sounded perfect.
And lonely.
No, she decided firmly, she would find friends. She had many friends in the district. She was glad she would not be leaving Lincolnshire, even if it did mean that she might occasionally cross paths with Jack.
Lincolnshire was home. She knew everyone, and they knew her, and her reputation would not be questioned, even if she did set up her own home. She would be able to live in peace and respectability.
It would be a good thing.
But lonely.
No. Not lonely. She would have funds. She could go visit Elizabeth, who would be married to her earl in the South. She could join one of those women's clubs her mother had so adored. They'd met every Tuesday afternoon, claiming they were there to discuss art and literature and the news of the day, but when the meetings were held at Sillsby, Grace had heard far too much laughter for those topics.
She would not be lonely.
She refused to be lonely.
She looked back at Amelia, snoring away on the bed. Poor thing. Grace had often envied the Willoughby girls their secure places in society. They were daughters of an earl, with impeccable bloodlines and generous dowries. It was odd, really, that her future should now be so well-defined while Amelia's was so murky.
But she had come to realize that Amelia was no more in control of her own fate than she herself had been. Her father had chosen her husband before she could even speak, before he knew who she was, what she was like. How could he know, looking upon an infant of less than one year, whether she would be suited for life as a duchess?
All of her life, Amelia had been stuck, waiting for Thomas to get around to marrying her. And even if she did not end up marrying either of the two Dukes of Wyndham, she'd still find herself obliged to follow her father's dictates.
Grace was turning back toward the window when she heard a noise in the hall. Footsteps, she decided.
Male. And because she could not help herself, she hurried to her door, opened it a crack, and peered out.
Jack.
He looked rumpled and tired and achingly heartsick. He was squinting in the dark, trying to figure out which room was his.
Grace-the-companion might have retreated back into her room, but Grace-the-woman-of-independent-means was somewhat more daring, and she stepped out, whispering his name.
He looked up. His eyes flared, and Grace belatedly remembered that she was still in her nightgown. It was nothing remotely risque; in fact, she was far more covered than she would have been in an evening dress. Still, she hugged her arms to her body as she moved forward.
"Where have you been?" she whispered.
He shrugged. "Out and about. Visiting old haunts. "
Something about his voice was unsettling. "Really?" she asked.
"No. " He looked at her, then rubbed his eyes. "I was across the street. Having my shepherd's pie. "
She smiled. "And your pint of ale?"
"Two, actually. " He smiled then, a sheepish, boyish thing that tried to banish the exhaustion from his face. "I missed it. "
"Irish ale?"
"The English stuff is pig swill by comparison. "
Grace felt herself warming inside. There was humor in his eyes, the first she'd seen in days. And it was strange - she'd thought it would be torture to be near him, to be with him and hear his voice and see his smile. But all she felt now was happiness. And relief.
She could not bear it when he was so unhappy. She needed for him to be him. Even if he could not be hers.
"You should not be out here like this," he said.
"No. " She shook her head but did not move.
He grimaced and looked down at his key. "I cannot find my room. "
Grace took the key from him and peered at it. "Fourteen," she said. She looked up. "The light is dim. "
He nodded.
"It is that way," she told him, pointing down the hall. "I passed it on the way in. "
"Is your room acceptable?" he asked. "Large enough for both you and the dowager?"
Grace gasped. He did not know. She'd completely forgotten. He had already left when Thomas gave her the cottage. "I'm not with the dowager," she said, unable to conceal all of her excitement. "I - "
"Someone's coming," he whispered harshly, and indeed, she heard voices and footsteps on the stairs. He started to steer her back to her room.
"No, I can't. " She dug in her heels. "Amelia is there. "
"Amelia? Why would she - " He muttered something under his breath and then yanked her along with him down the hall. Into Room 14.