The Rogue's Last Scandal

by Alina K. Field

  “Excellent. Wrap it up. Kincaid may have a use for it.”

  He had one more stop before returning home.

  Chapter 30

  When Graciela arrived in the nursery, Reina’s two new aunts were already there.

  The little girl flung out her arms and ran to Graciela, making her heart flip, making her laugh.

  “Miss Reina, you must say, ‘Good morning, Mama’,” Lady Sirena chided.

  Reina cocked her head and frowned.

  Graciela’s heart kicked up a fast patter. More truth-telling, and to the most vulnerable person in her life.

  She picked the girl up and squeezed her. “You are growing so much. How heavy you are.”

  Reina squirmed, then leaned back and pressed Graciela’s cheeks between both of her chubby hands.

  “Ow,” she said playfully, invoking a hail of giggles.

  Graciela set her down and crouched before her. “Lady Sirena is right. You must call me Mama now.” She took a deep breath. Charley had dashed out so quickly and disappeared, she didn’t know what to think. Yet she must plunge ahead. “And you must call Charley, Papa.”

  She pointed a finger at Lady Perry. “Y ellas?” And them.

  Her little girl must speak English in front of the inglesas. Graciela answered in English. “We are going to live with them for a while. And from now on, this is your Aunt Sirena and your Aunt Perry.”

  A frown twisted the plump lips.

  Lady Sirena bent over her. “And you have an Uncle James, an Uncle Bink, an Aunt Paulette, a baby cousin, and two more cousins on the way.” Lady Sirena patted the soft mound of her belly. “One of your cousins is growing right now inside my tummy.”

  Reina touched where Lady Sirena had patted.

  “We will all have to wait a few months to see, but, here...” She placed the small hand flat against her. “He is moving.”

  The brown eyes widened. She groped Lady Sirena with both hands.

  “In the stables here, we have a horse with a baby in her tummy.”

  “Here?” Graciela asked. “In town?”

  “Yes, of all things. James purchased her last week. ’Tis not ideal, but I’d rather not move her now.” She lifted Reina’s chin. “Do you want to see her?”

  Reina nodded.

  “Do you mind, Mama?” Lady Sirena asked.

  “You must be careful, Reina.” Graciela said. “You must listen to Aunt Sirena.”

  “This little mother is gentle, but, yes, you must be careful around horses. They are like people. Some of them are grumpy.”

  Lady Sirena took her hand and they left.

  “Let me take her around the garden after she sees the stables,” Lady Perry said. “The day is fine. We can have our tea there and spend the afternoon playing. Will you mind? She needs the fresh air after being cooped up so long, and it will wear her out so she sleeps better. I will bring a guard and the nursemaid.”

  She felt a weight lift from her heart and she gripped Lady Perry’s hand. “Yes. Thank you. I will join you there.”

  Downstairs, she was headed for the library when a footman stopped her.

  “There is a gentleman to see you, Miss—er, Mrs. Everly.”

  She took the card he handed her. Captain Llewellyn.

  “Just the one caller?”

  “Yes, madam, waiting in the parlor.”

  “Is my husband in the library?”

  “No, madam. He went out.”

  Tension threaded through her. “Out?” He had not mentioned going out. She eyed the footman. An ex-soldier he was, and shrewd. He might know where Charley went, but she would not stoop to ask.

  And, if Charley could go off without her, she could speak to Captain Llewellyn alone.

  When she entered the quiet parlor, he turned and smiled.

  So, it was the charming Captain visiting today. She curtsied.

  “My dear.” He took her hands in his clammy ones.

  She pulled away. “I am surprised that you would call.”

  “I hope I am not unwelcome. You look tired, Graciela. Are you well? I was worried after the spectacle you were put through last night.”

  “You are not unwelcome.” In truth she had many questions for him. “And the night was indeed eventful. The Duque’s conduct and my cousin’s were quite ungentlemanly.”

  His face colored. “I meant, how could Shaldon and his son expose you so?”

  A buzzing started in her ears. “You are referring to my child.”

  He bit his lips and paced. “It shall not serve. I am leaving sooner than expected, Graciela, returning to the West Indies. You must let me take you away from here. You must let me take you home.”

  “I am married, Captain. I have a husband now.”

  He stopped in front of her, unsmiling. “So it is true then?”

  “You thought it was not? You thought we would announce it, and it would not be true?”

  “How could you let yourself be pressured into marriage to such a rogue?” He swept a hand through his hair. “But it will not matter. I will take you under my protection.” He captured her hands again. “I shall arrange a house for us in Veracruz.”

  Her insides roiled. She looked at his hands, so tightly gripping hers. All pretense of gentility had fallen away. “And what of the money my father set aside for me? Shall I abandon that?”

  He frowned. “It’s probably lost to Shaldon’s swindling son. But no matter. I will set you up and keep you comfortable.”

  “As what? Your ward?”

  His eyes darkened and glittered, the sharpness skittering across her skin.

  Bile rose in her. “Your mistress.”

  “No one need know the truth.”

  “I would know.” She spoke softly. “I would know the truth. And I find that in great matters, the truth matters a great deal to me.” She pulled her hands away. “Before he left, my father shared the truth of how my mother died. He was looking for the man behind her murder. I believe Lord Shaldon and my husband can help me finish my father’s work.”

  His mouth contorted in a grimace. “Graciela.” He bit his lip, his gaze sliding away before returning. “You don’t know? It’s one of the reasons I am desperate to take you away from here. The man behind your mother’s murder was Lord Shaldon.”

  She lost her breath and the air around them darkened. “I shall take a chair and listen to this story.” His touch on her arm sent shivers through her. He guided her to a sofa.

  “No. I said a chair.”

  “You should lie down.”

  “No. I will take a chair, and you will take a separate one.”

  Gripping the chair arms, she asked him to explain.

  His jaw firmed. “Your father wouldn’t want me to upset you.”

  “And yet, here we are. You are saying to me that my father and Lord Shaldon were enemies?”

  “Let us say, they were at cross-purposes. Your father was spying for a Spanish duke who was under the French thumb.”

  “The Duque de San Sebastiano?”

  “Perhaps. Shaldon, as you probably know, was a leader of the English spies.”

  “And for this he would send a man from England to kill my mother? You make no sense. The war with Napoleon was over when Mama was killed.”

  “The war in the Spanish colonies is not over.”

  “But you believe Lord Shaldon meant to kill my mother.”

  “I do. His man would have known your father’s ship was not yet in the harbor.”

  “I see. Tell me what happened that day, Captain.”

  “I don’t want to upset you.”

  Or I don’t want to tell you. She watched him, her mind reeling. Lord Shaldon would not send a man to kill another man’s wife. She could not believe that about him.

  “You have said that already. You have made an allegation that makes no sense. The crime has no motive.”

  “I know what I know. What do you remember from that day?”

  “I was not lucid that day as you know. I remem
ber that you were there, but when I came fully to my senses, my father was with me. Tell me about the killer.”

  “Your father asked me, if I arrived first, to check on your mother and you. We had heard there was an outbreak of fever. When I arrived at the house, your mother was dead, and the killer was standing over your friend’s body, knife in hand. I drew my sword and killed him.”

  “Who was he?”

  He looked away and again bit his lip. “I don’t know. The clothing was English. We believe he was also. We traced him to an inn frequented by foreign merchants.”

  “And the connection to Lord Shaldon?”

  Captain Llewellyn shrugged. “Your father’s hunch. He was pursuing it.”

  “He shared those details?”

  His sharp gaze turned on her. He had heard the doubt in her voice.

  “I mean, please, you must tell me what he shared with you. It would help me to know what to do.”

  “The only thing for you to do is leave here.” He leaned across the space separating the chairs. “I’m staying tonight in Southwark at the Talbot Inn. I’ve had my ship brought up, and tomorrow I’m returning to it. I’ll send a carriage for you.”

  “That will be too obvious. I can hire my own carriage.”

  “Do you have access to money?”

  “Yes. I have enough, and Juan can find a hackney. My servants—”

  “May come also.” He pursed his lips. “And the child.”

  She gripped her hands tightly and held back her words, watching the Captain’s lips curl as if he had just sucked a lemon.

  “How will you get away?”

  Outside, a carriage rattled to a stop in front of the house.

  “You must leave it to me, and you must go now. I am not as helpless as you think.”

  He followed her to the door. She noticed the servant had left it ajar.

  He frowned at the open door, but in the hallway, no one lingered. A maid popped out from another room and showed the Captain the way. Graciela watched him go as far as the door.

  She all but groped her way to the back of the house and the garden exit, as if swimming through fog. She stopped, took a breath, and looked around her. Rare sunlight splashed into the corridor through the open ballroom door, lighting a few random dust motes. All was in order in this orderly house. The distant sounds of servants at work cleaning were hushed, but it was from contentment, not fear.

  Llewellyn wanted her to leave here, to cross the wide ocean on his ship, and set herself up in his bed. When would he want to have her?

  Tonight, probably, in his inn room. And once she put herself into his hands, what would become of Reina? Perhaps he would sit a distance off in a squall and watch her baby sink to the bottom of the ocean, just as he’d done with her father.

  Graciela hurried along. Her little girl’s smile, even her frown, was an anchor, and Reina was waiting for her.

  Charley exited his carriage just as a departing visitor reached the bottom steps in front of Shaldon House and turned to walk to a waiting hackney.

  He would recognize the hair, the gait, the clothing anywhere.

  His heart kicked up. Captain Llewellyn was leaving Shaldon House, alone. That cocky swagger might not signify anything. Gracie might have been ensconced in the nursery. Perry might have entertained the man. Or his father.

  The Scotsman watched Llewellyn silently.

  “Follow him,” Charley said.

  He took the bundled book and pulled a long rectangular box from the seat.

  Inside, a footman opened the library door for him. Kincaid, Farnsworth, and his father still wore the clothing from last night, neck cloths sharply tied, coats buttoned.

  Their work, however was put aside. They sat talking. Plotting.

  “Where is Gracie?” he asked.

  “We haven’t seen her," Farnsworth said.

  He dropped his packages upon the table and slid the bundle over to Kincaid. “Your man retrieved this from the fireplace.”

  Kincaid unwrapped it, his lips curving up.

  “Well?” Charley asked. “What did you find?”

  “Nothing conclusive,” Farnsworth said. “And you?”

  “Kingsley claimed he burned both books. He will be tearing the house down to find the book of sonnets.”

  Shaldon looked toward the window. “He will turn up his own guilt.”

  “Why was Llewellyn here?” Charley asked.

  Three heads came up. They hadn’t known about the visitor.

  His breakfast curdled in his stomach. “I saw him leaving as I arrived. Where is Gracie?”

  Kincaid pushed back his chair, went to the door, and spoke quietly to the footman.

  “He’ll fetch her,” Kincaid said. “She cannot leave without a servant knowing.”

  “She’s not a prisoner.” Except, she was, or she might think she was.

  “Sit down, my son.” Shaldon pointed to an empty chair at the table. “We shall solve this riddle.”

  He walked to the far window, the one that overlooked the garden. Sirena, Perry, Lady Jane, and a host of servants sat around a woman and child.

  The sight of her made his breath return and his heart slow to normal. Gracie was in the garden with Reina, well protected. He watched the footman bow before her and saw her glance up to the window.

  Frowning. Charley jerked the window sash up, leaned out, and waved.

  Her face settled. She kissed the little girl and followed the servant into the house.

  When Charley turned back, all three men were watching him.

  “I see I’ve lost one of my best operatives,” Farnsworth said. “Pensioned off to holy wedlock.”

  “The Duquesa was not a tiresome labor for a single man,” Kincaid said. “Was she now, Charley?”

  He walked to the table, the comment nudging a memory. “She told me last night, the Duque has ordered his yacht up to London. He has no plans to leave. Rather, he’s bringing someone in. Or taking someone out. A debt to pay, she overheard him say.”

  The door opened and Gracie walked in, striding purposefully toward the table, ignoring him completely. “What did you find?”

  Her gaze went to the burned book and she raised her hand up to her throat. She glared at Charley. “You went to Kingsley House without me?”

  “You entertained Captain Llewellyn without me?”

  Her lips pressed into a thin line.

  “You were not here. You left and did not tell me where you were going. Not that I expect you to live in my pocket, Charley, but you have no right to chastise me over this, especially not here, not in front of your father.”

  A laugh bubbled up in him. He’d been expecting a lie, not a tongue-lashing.

  He forced his face into a frown but could not speak.

  “You did indeed know that I wished to speak to the Captain. I told you that many times.”

  “And did you?” Charley asked.

  “You could have called us, Graciela,” his father said. “We would have joined you.”

  She leveled a gaze on Shaldon, her eyes narrowing, and slowly shook her head.

  “Did you get the truth from him?” Charley asked.

  Graciela glanced at him. That glint of humor had left his eyes. Having him laugh at her—even if it was inside, in his mind, in his heart, had pinched off her rising anger.

  Dios, but she loved him.

  Lord Shaldon sat in that strange stiffly erect way of his: unservile, commanding, oh-so-polite. He was cast bronze, from his smoothly cut hair to the long fingers resting on the table.

  Yet a pulse jumped in his temple. He was impatient for her to speak. They were all waiting for her, even Charley.

  She sat down in the empty chair, and the men seated themselves, all but Charley, who continued to hover.

  “Will you tell me the truth, my lord?” she asked Shaldon.

  He blinked and finally nodded. “If I am able to.”

  “Did you send a man to kill my mother?”

  Chapter 31r />
  Color rose in her new father-in-law’s cheeks, and she noticed how palpably white his complexion had been without it, as if he had long ago opened his own vein to drain off his feelings. The return of blood was upsetting him, she could see that.

  His fist hit the table. “Absolutely not. Never. Nor would any of my men.”

  “Did Llewellyn tell you that?” Charley asked.

  Moisture clogged her throat. She nodded.

  He flipped a chair around and sat, resting his forearms on the chair back. “That’s rather sloppy of him. Quite lacking in subtlety. I’d say the man is desperate, and it’s time he came in for that chat. I shall head over to Kirkham’s this afternoon.”

  “He won’t be there,” she said.

  A nerve ticked at the corner of Charley’s eye.

  “He is moving to an inn called the Talbot in Southwark.”

  “The Talbot.” Lord Farnsworth spit out the word.

  “Yes. He is sailing earlier than expected. I told you that.”

  “Much earlier than expected.” Farnsworth sat back thoughtfully.

  They were on the trail of something.

  “What have you discovered in my father’s cipher?”

  Lord Shaldon nodded at Kincaid. “Tell her.”

  Kincaid reviewed the system her father had used in the past. The numbers should refer to pages, lines, and words on the page. But that code hadn’t worked. They’d learned nothing.

  Shaldon nodded again and Kincaid shared that for the last years of the English war, her father had been tracing a ring with branches in Kingston, Cadiz, Calais, and Scarborough. They surmised that the group had access to a highly placed lord who knew the movement of both naval ships and merchant ships.

  “Lord Kingsley?” She held her breath at their answer while the question gnawed at her—if her father had suspected his cousin, why had he left her in his care?

  “Kingsley was not highly placed in the government,” Lord Shaldon said.

  “It could have been you then, Lord Shaldon.”