The Lost Duke of Wyndham Page 0,1

then stepped forward out of the shadows, and with a graceful motion swept his arm in an arc to usher them out. "The pleasure of your company, if you will," he murmured.

Grace felt her eyes dart back and forth - an exercise in futility, to be sure, as there was clearly no avenue of escape. She turned to the dowager, expecting to find her spitting with fury, but instead she had gone white. It was then that Grace realized she was shaking.

The dowager was shaking.

Both of them were.

The highwayman leaned in, one shoulder resting against the door frame. He smiled then - slow and lazy, and with the charm of a rogue. How Grace could see all of that when half of his face was covered with his mask, she did not know, but three things about him were abundantly clear: He was young.

He was strong.

And he was dangerously lethal.

"Ma'am," Grace said, giving the dowager a nudge. "I think we should do as he says."

"I do love a sensible woman," he said, and smiled again. Just a quirk this time - one devastating little lift at the corner of his mouth. But his gun remained high, and his charm did little to assuage Grace's fear.

And then he extended his other arm. He extended his arm. As if they were embarking at a house party.

As if he were a country gentleman, about to inquire about the weather.

"May I be of assistance?" he murmured.

Grace shook her head frantically. She could not touch him. She did not know why, precisely, but she knew in her bones that it would be utter disaster to put her hand in his.

"Very well," he said with a small sigh. "Ladies today are so very capable. It breaks my heart, really." He leaned in, almost as if sharing a secret. "No one likes to feel superfluous."

Grace just stared at him.

"Rendered mute by my grace and charm," he said, stepping back to allow them to exit. "It happens all the time. Really, I shouldn't be allowed near the ladies. I have such a vexing effect on you."

He was mad. That was the only explanation. Grace didn't care how pretty his manners were, he had to be mad. And he had a gun.

"Although," he mused, his weapon rock steady even as his words seemed to meander through the air,

"some would surely say that a mute woman is the least vexing of all."

Thomas would, Grace thought. The Duke of Wyndham - who had years ago insisted that she use his given name at Belgrave after a farcical chorus of your grace, Miss Grace, your grace - had no patience for chitchat of any sort.

"Ma'am," she whispered urgently, tugging on the dowager's arm.

The dowager did not say a word, nor did she nod, but she took Grace's hand and allowed herself to be helped down from the carriage.

"Ah, now that is much better," the highwayman said, grinning widely now. "What good fortune is mine to have stumbled upon two ladies so divine. Here I thought I'd be greeted by a crusty old gentleman."

Grace stepped to the side, keeping her eyes trained on his face. He did not look like a criminal, or rather, her idea of a criminal. His accent screamed education and breeding, and if he was not recently washed, well, she could not smell it.

"Or perhaps one of those dreadful young toads, stuffed into a waistcoat two sizes too small," he mused, rubbing his free hand thoughtfully against his chin. "You know the sort, don't you?" he asked Grace.

"Red face, drinks too much, thinks too little."

And to her great surprise, Grace found herself nodding.

"I thought you would," he replied. "They're rather thick on the ground, sadly."

Grace blinked and just stood there, watching his mouth. It was the only bit of him she could watch, with his mask covering the upper portion of his face. But his lips were so full of movement, so perfectly formed and expressive, that she almost felt she could see him. It was odd. And mesmerizing. And more than a little unsettling.

"Ah, well," he said, with the same deceptive sigh of ennui Grace had seen Thomas utilize when he wished to change the subject. "I'm sure you ladies realize that this isn't a social call." His eyes flicked toward Grace, and he let loose a devilish smile. "Not entirely."

Grace's lips parted.

His eyes - what she could see of them through the mask - grew heavy-lidded and seductive.

"I do enjoy mixing business and pleasure," he murmured. "It's