The Rogue's Last Scandal

by Alina K. Field

  It was quite the opposite of the reaction he was trying to engender. Yet…perhaps a good round of tears was needed to clear out the fog. She had been through so much.

  But her mouth firmed and small fists clenched, and when she lifted her eyes they were blazing.

  How could he be expected to keep his hands off her for another three minutes, much less three years?

  “Papa already trained me, but I am willing to learn more. And, Charley, I should like to see the Captain’s report as soon as you can arrange it.”

  He saluted, eliciting a grimace.

  “And I should like to be present when he is interviewed.”

  Upon their return, Lady Sirena swept Graciela away to meet with the modiste who had returned with more gowns, and in the flurry of measuring, and marking, and verdicts about colors, she had trouble keeping to her thoughts and her planning.

  The modiste herself was a great distraction. French, and darker than her own half-Spanish self, the beautiful Madame chattered as much as Lady Sirena. Except that where Lady Sirena’s chatter filled the atmosphere with comfort, Madame’s built great confidence.

  “Eh bien.” She wrote down a measurement. She had come without an assistant. “Que linda. You will shine, Miss Kingsley in the gown I am making you. And here,” she smoothed her hands along her side, “shall be a pocket or two. It shall not harm the lines. You will leave it to me.”

  “A pocket? For what?”

  Madame’s gaze was intense and intelligent. “Perhaps a small dagger or the tiniest of pistols. It is sometimes prudent.”

  “Even at a ball, a lady does not always have a gentleman at hand to protect her,” Lady Sirena said, nibbling on a meat pie from the tray that had been laid out for the ladies.

  It had been only chance that Charley was at hand at her betrothal ball. How lucky she had been to fall into that particular man’s arms. She felt her face grow warm. “I see. I thank you, though I do not expect to attend many balls in the future. I am, after all, a scandal.”

  Lady Sirena exchanged a look with Madame and almost stayed silent. Almost.

  “Well, you may change your mind, might you not? Always good to be prepared. And Miss Kingsley’s dress will be finished by tomorrow afternoon, Madame?”

  “Most certainly, my lady. My girls are already at work on it.”

  She opened her mouth to say that there was no rush, but Madame vanished as quickly and quietly as she had arrived.

  Charley delivered the Duquesa’s letter to his father’s study, and found him conferring with Kincaid.

  Shaldon turned the letter over and handed it to Kincaid. “What did you learn, my son?”

  “He’s recently widowed. Tried to snatch Gracie right out of the room, and would have done so had she seen him alone. He was as vague as hell about Captain Kingsley’s disappearance. Claimed they rescued some crew members who witnessed his death. Have you seen the report?”

  “We’ve sent a man for it,” Kincaid said.

  “We’ll need to bring him in for questioning,” Charley said, “along with the rest of the crew. And there’s another thing—he kept us waiting in the baggage room.”

  “He had a woman upstairs,” Kincaid said. “Came and went veiled.”

  “We stumbled across the Duquesa on the street.”

  “The Duquesa and Captain Llewellyn.” Kincaid broke the seal on the letter. “Now there’s an intriguing thought.”

  “He might well have been auditioning a new mistress.” Shaldon tapped the desk with his forefinger, staring into the cold fireplace. “Did the Duquesa speak with you?”

  “There’s a diplomatic ball tomorrow night, which I do not plan to attend. She asked for a dance.”

  “Perhaps we ought to show up and announce your engagement.”

  “I’m afraid it might be hard to persuade my future bride. What does the letter say?”

  Kincaid skimmed the swirling script. “He asks your father’s influence with the new king on behalf of the Spanish people to keep them out of the hands of the French. He fears the influence on your king of the Afrancesados attending the coronation, particularly one.” He glanced up. “Do you suppose the Duquesa wrote this herself in her father’s name? She does hate her husband.”

  Shaldon grunted. “No request for money or arms?”

  “Not yet. I would hate to give up this channel. Might we convince you Charley to—”

  “No.” He shook his head and stood, pacing the length of the small room. They could put whoever they wanted to it, it would not be him.

  The woman in Llewellyn’s chamber nagged at him. In all his many meetings with the Duquesa, they’d never frequented a hotel, and for her to meet with an insignificant sea captain didn’t seem likely.

  If Llewellyn’s guest was a lady bird, Charley had contacts on St. James Street who might know, or who might even have arranged the appointment.

  And if he and Gracie were to announce their engagement, he must pay a visit to Bond Street.

  He excused himself and headed downstairs.

  Perry stood in the hall taking a note from the footman’s salver. She sent the man off and glanced at the wafer seal, frowning.

  “Bad news?” Charley asked.

  She handed him the note. “It’s for you.”

  He turned it over, snapped the seal and scanned the writing, and made himself laugh at her glare. “It’s the rogue’s life, sister. I shall be off.”

  After the modiste left, Graciela checked on Reina, who was napping, and sought out Charley. Instead, she found Lady Perry and Lady Sirena in the morning room going over household matters.

  Charley had gone out, they said, and then both shared a glance.

  The hair on her neck rose. “What? You must tell me.”

  Lady Perry frowned. “Do you truly care for him?”

  “I...” I love him. She couldn’t say that. She couldn’t allow herself to feel that. “Our engagement was a ruse, to get the banker to talk.”

  “Yes, but do you truly care for him?”

  “Ach, Perry, why are you pressing her? Are you concerned about Charley’s heart?”

  “I’m concerned about hers, and yes, well, his also. I know my brother, Graciela, and I do think he’s smitten, however...” She took a breath. “He received a note a little while ago and went out.”

  “A note?”

  She nodded. “I passed it to him. And I recognized the handwriting and paper. And the perfume. It was from the Duquesa.”

  Chapter 20

  Graciela swallowed a watery lump that had sprung all at once into being. “I see. We ran into her on the street. She greeted him most familiarly.”

  Lady Perry’s face darkened. “I shall thrash him myself.”

  “And I shall help you.” Lady Sirena patted a chair. “Come, I’ll call for some tea. Or better, some sherry.”

  “No.” She shook her head. Had she not herself stressed to him in the carriage that she had no intentions of marrying him? “It is as it is. And as I said, our engagement is a ruse.”

  Those kisses, a ruse. His strong hands, available to any willing woman. The passion he stirred, a weapon. Why?

  Because he can. Because it was what men like him did.

  And perhaps, it was freeing. If she did in fact have to marry him as the only means to collect her inheritance, she could hold him to his promise to let her keep her money and go her own way.

  Rigo had wanted to own her. There was nothing of ownership in Charley Everly. He wanted freedom as much as she. And he made her feel again, even if there was no heart in it, even if it was just the carnal stirring of a dumb beast.

  But if she chose that path, a marriage for money, there would never be a chance at a true marriage, like her parents’. Charley said she was cynical, but she wasn’t, not entirely. Love must be possible, perhaps even for someone as damaged as herself. Had not Lady Sirena found it with Lord Bakeley? One could but look at them together and see their happiness.

  An arm came around her. �
��Perhaps you should not have told her, Perry,” Lady Sirena said.

  Lady Perry’s face was grim. “She should know everything.”

  Here was a true and honest ally.

  “And you could have softened the blow a bit. In fact, we do not know he is off bedding her, do we now? Graciela, we do not even know he’s gone to see her. He may have gone to the tailor, or off to the jeweler to buy you a bauble, or to the shops for some new toys. Let’s not jump into this donnybrook quite yet.”

  “It is quite all right, as I said. I am aware of his reputation. I have no aspiration to marry him. I merely wish to get control of my funds and go home. He is a means to an end, and we have that understanding between us.” She forced a smile. “I shall leave it to some other woman to tame him.”

  Lady Perry frowned. “You are using him.”

  “Yes, I am sorry. I was...desperate.” Perhaps thoughtless. “I don’t wish to hurt anyone. I…I should leave.” She must leave, and soon, or this great house would become another cage for her.

  The two pairs of eyes watched her, and their feelings had shifted. They were seeing her anew, and not liking what they saw.

  “You don’t know what it’s like to be a woman alone, Perry,” Lady Sirena said.

  Lady Perry sighed. “We have our squabbles, Charley and I, but he is always kind in his own way. I wish you could care for him, Graciela. And I do think he cares for you.”

  “Like many men, he cares for many women.” It had not been true of her Papa, but there it was. Living amongst men who went to sea, she knew this truth.

  Lady Perry shook her head. “I believe the Duquesa was just an assignment.”

  “An assignment?” More of Charley’s gossip gathering? Was that what he had meant?

  Yet the woman was so beautiful. No man would resist that golden beauty.

  “I shouldn’t talk of it. I don’t truly know anything, I only suspect. He visited quite often with Farnsworth before he left town.”

  “Lord Farnsworth? My guardian?”

  “Yes. He is Charley’s godfather, and Father’s great friend. And of course, a spymaster also.”

  Her head began to ache. “Their war is long over.”

  “There is always a war somewhere, or a threat of one. And with the coronation next month, well, the powers have gathered. It’s a perfect time to collect information. London is swarming with spies.” Lady Perry’s voice was wistful. “And good heavens, the Spanish colonies have all proclaimed their freedom. Is not your father there helping out with the cause?”

  Her father’s last instructions had been puzzling. In dire straits, she should go to Lord Shaldon, he trusted the spy lord with her safety. But only if Papa should die, should she hand on the information he’d left with her, and what did that mean? Did he not entirely trust Lord Shaldon?

  She wasn’t at all convinced of Papa’s death. And he had been quite cagey about this voyage. He’d talked only vaguely about his cargo and more certainly about the danger of his daughter and tiny ward sailing with him. With the demise of Spanish power, a pirate war had arisen in the West Indies. He had deposited her and Reina, and the servants at Lord Kingsley’s estate, and gone back to London to arrange his business affairs. And she knew he had not shared the details of those with even Lord Kingsley. Had he shared them with Lord Shaldon?

  Her nerves prickled. What had Shaldon said earlier? Her father had served England. He is a good man.

  “I should like to have a word with your father. Is he here?”

  “In the study, I think.” Lady Sirena said.

  “Come along,” Lady Perry said, “I’ll take you there.”

  As it turned out, Lord Shaldon had gone out also.

  Lady Perry gripped the door handle and rattled it. “I haven’t yet been able to pick this lock.”

  “I haven’t mastered that skill, either,” Graciela said.

  Lady Perry laughed. “Perhaps we’ll study it together some day.”

  With neither father nor son around, Graciela wandered up to the nursery. Francisca was nowhere around, and the nursemaid was happy for the chance to run downstairs for a cup of tea. She spent the rest of the afternoon with Reina, reading to her, cuddling her, playing with her, like they used to do before they’d settled into Lord Kingsley’s cold and formal world.

  “There you are.” Francisca entered the nursery room and settled a dinner tray onto a table. “I must speak with you, Graciela.”

  Unease threaded through her. “Yes of course.” She kissed Reina, turned her over to the nursery maid, and let Francisca pull her into the corridor.

  “After the modiste left, no one knew where you were,” Francisca said.

  “I was with the ladies, and then I was here.”

  “My heart almost stopped. I asked the housekeeper, and the maids. The footmen, too. This house is so big. You must be careful.”

  She touched the maid’s arm. “What has happened?”

  “The footmen were whispering. They thought I didn’t understand, but there are strangers lurking around the mews and the square.” She took Graciela’s hand. “You must be careful. I have spoken to Juan.”

  She peeked in the door at the child, who was happily gobbling her meal with the cheerful girl’s help. Reina was having fewer tantrums and seemed happier here, yet she would have to disrupt her again.

  “We must leave here, and soon.”

  Francisca shook her head. “And go where? I am afraid for you, Graciela. I am afraid for the little one. You must take great care.”

  The dinner bell gonged. Francisca hugged her. “There will be guests tonight, they said. Go, and I will be along in a moment to help you dress.”

  A fussy whine came from the nursery.

  “No. You stay with Reina. I’ll get one of the maids to help me.”

  When she walked through her bedchamber, door, she found Charley waiting there.

  The infernally long wait for Gracie to come dress for dinner had given Charley time to peruse her room. To search it actually.

  He loosened his neck cloth against the heat from the coals glowing in the grate, and looked around. Her jewelry was spare, family pieces no doubt, and she had enough money for a few nights on the road, though he doubted she would know that.

  The slim volume of Shakespeare’s sonnets was interesting. Well-thumbed, it sat beside her bed next to the dagger. The title page of the book made clear it was a gift from Captain Kingsley to his wife. Messages sprinkled the pages, in a lovers’ code.

  It vaguely depressed him.

  Their engagement might be a ruse, but he had found an engagement gift for one lady, and had spied out something else for the smaller one.

  It was the only spying that had gone well. If Llewellyn had been entertaining a member of the demimonde in his chambers, no one in that circle was talking about it.

  He slipped the dagger from its sheath and examined it. An irregular design had been etched through the hilt and the blade.

  He heard a rustle in the hall, and quickly set the blade back.

  Graciela spotted him immediately and left the door to the corridor open. He sent the maid who’d followed her away, closed the door, and lounged against it, crossing his arms.

  She crossed her arms, eyes flashing. “You should not be here.”

  “Yet here I am. No one will mind.”

  “I mind.”

  “Yes, well, Sirena greeted me upon my return home tonight. I did not spend the afternoon with the Duquesa.”

  She turned away. “You do not need a whole afternoon for the things you do with her.”

  His heart soared. She was jealous. “Except for that brief interlude on the street, I didn’t see her today.”

  “It is not my affair.”

  “And it is not my affair either. She is not my lover. Will you not believe me, you stubborn woman?”

  She turned, her hands on her hips. “Stubborn woman? We are a fraud, Charley. I want to take my child and my servants and leave. I don’t have to go with
Captain Llewellyn, I can find another ship. I can look for my father. I can go and see what truly happened to him.” She clenched her fists and bit her lip. “Your father must get my money for me.”

  “Gracie—”

  “I will not let anyone cage me.”

  Her chest rose and fell with each choking breath, and he began to sweat under his dinner coats.

  A bell sounded below, reverberating through the house.

  “I will leave you to dress,” he said. “And we will talk more later. I’ll send your maid.”

  “Tell her to go. I don’t care to join—”

  “I have news about Llewellyn’s visitor today.” He opened the door and beckoned the maid. “Which I will share—later.”

  “Tell me now, Charley.”

  “Later.” He bowed. “I shall see you downstairs.”

  He pulled the door closed and went to find Perry to kill her.

  For her first formal dinner at Shaldon House, Graciela found herself seated at Lord Shaldon’s right hand and across from Lady Jane Monthorpe, Sirena’s kind, older friend who had arrived from Bath while Graciela was busy with Reina. She was also to be a house guest, a permanent one from the way Sirena spoke.

  Mrs. Gibson had returned to London also and joined them, along with Thomas, their friend Lord Hackwell’s charming young brother, whose presence truly made the evening a family affair.

  They’d all greeted her warmly, with many congratulations for her and Charley, sending her head spinning. Charley’s smile had been fixed and determined—and false as could be. That she knew. He was angry with her, and she didn’t care.

  She needed to take charge of her own life.

  During such a dinner, even she knew not to question Charley about the Captain’s visitor, or push Lord Shaldon for the release of her money. A rude girl she might be, but she knew better than that.

  And her intended had arranged to be seated at the far end of the table, so he could not even whisper what he’d discovered that afternoon.

  She thrust her fork into a piece of meat, nodded politely at something Lord Shaldon said, and waited for the interminable meal to end.