The Lost Duke of Wyndham by Julia Quinn

see as he had any other choice. And maybe it wouldn’t hurt to learn a thing or two of his father. A man ought to know where he comes from. That was what his uncle had always said. Jack was beginning to wonder if he’d been offering forgiveness—in advance. Just in case he decided one day that he wished to be a Cavendish.
    Of course, Uncle William hadn’t met these Cavendishes. If he had, he might’ve revised that statement entirely.
    â€œMost judicious of you,” the dowager said, clapping her hands together. “Now then, we—”
    â€œBut first,” Jack cut in, “I must return to the inn to collect my belongings.” He glanced around the drawing room, almost laughing at the opulence. “Meager though they are.”
    â€œNonsense,” the dowager said briskly. “Your things will be replaced.” She looked down her nose at his traveling costume. “With items of far greater quality, I might add.”
    â€œI wasn’t asking your permission,” Jack said lightly. He did not like to allow his anger to reveal itself in his voice. It did put a man at a disadvantage.
    â€œNonethe—”
    â€œFurthermore,” Jack added, because really, he didn’t wish to hear her voice any more than he had to, “I must make explanations to my associates.” At that he looked over at Wyndham. “Nothing approaching the truth,” he added dryly, lest the duke assume that he intended to spread rumors throughout the county.
    â€œDon’t disappear,” the dowager directed. “I assure you, you will regret it.”
    â€œThere’s no worry of that,” Wyndham said blandly. “Who would disappear with the promise of a dukedom?”
    Jack’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to let it pass. The afternoon did not need another fistfight.
    And then—bloody hell—the duke abruptly added, “I will accompany you.”
    Oh, good God. That was the last thing he needed. Jack swung around to face him, lifting one dubious brow. “Need I worry for my safety?”
    Wyndham stiffened visibly, and Jack, who had beentrained to notice even the smallest of details, saw that both of his fists clenched at his sides. So he’d insulted the duke. At this point, and considering the bruises he was likely to find staining his throat, he didn’t care.
    He turned to Miss Eversleigh, offering her his most self-effacing smile. “I am a threat to his very identity. Surely any reasonable man would question his safety.”
    â€œNo, you’re wrong!” she cried out. “You misjudge him. The duke—”
    She shot a horrified look at Wyndham, and they all were forced to share her discomfort when she realized what she’d said. But she plowed on, determined girl that she was.
    â€œHe is as honorable a man as I have ever met,” she continued, her voice low and fervent. “You would never come to harm in his company.”
    Her cheeks had flushed with passion, and Jack was struck by the most acidic thought. Was there something between Miss Eversleigh and the duke? They resided in the same house, or castle, as it were, with only an embittered old lady for company. And while the dowager was anything but senile, Jack could not imagine that there was any lack of opportunity to engage in a dalliance under her nose.
    He watched Miss Eversleigh closely, his eyes falling to her lips. He’d surprised himself when he kissed her the night before. He hadn’t meant to, and he certainly had never done such a thing before whilst attempting to rob a coach. It had seemed the most natural thing in the world—to touch her chin, tilt her face up toward his, and brush his lips against hers.
    It had been soft, and fleeting, and it had taken him until this moment to realize just how deeply he wanted more.
    He looked at Wyndham, and his jealousy must have shown on his face because his newly discovered cousin looked