Page 51 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
He stared into the dark depths of his cup as he considered whether to reveal to Inverray what Charlotte had shared about her in-laws. If there was potential for them to cause trouble for her, and by extension the Little Windmill House, the marquess should be made aware of what he’d learned. But then, what had Finlay really learned? He didn’t know her in-laws’ names or her late husband’s surname. He was sorely lacking details that would make the story credible.
“Oh, there’s Sorringham. I have to talk to him about a committee meeting tomorrow.” Inverray took a drink of coffee and stood, adjusting his cravat. “I’ll return in a few minutes.”
With a nod, Finlay dropped his gaze to his pile of notes, determined to put Charlotte and her troubles out of his mind for the time being. He had meetings to prepare for, and he needed to focus.
He was refreshing his memory on details surrounding the formation of the Metropolitan Police Force when he was abruptly shoved forward from behind. He jerked his head around to see what the problem was when he met a familiar face.
“Lord Firthwell, please accept my apologies.” Guillermo Torres flashed a disgruntled look at the back of the gentleman who’d pushed him. “Despite the many titles floating about the room, it’s severely lacking in manners.”
The gentleman turned at Torres’s words, his face already scrunched in derision, when his eyes widened at the sight of the tall Spaniard. Torres raised his dark brows at the man, and he immediately scuttled away.
“Why don’t you sit and I’ll signal a server,” Finlay offered, gesturing to Inverray’s empty seat with his hand. He hoped the marquess didn’t mind.
“Gracias.” The man sank into the chair and crossed his legs, popping his bowler hat on his knee. “How have you been, my lord?”
“Well,” Finlay replied automatically. “Busy with the estates and keeping up with Allie’s investment ideas.”
“Her Grace has a keen mind when it comes to numbers and opportunities. She’s already made several recommendations that have aided West Indies Interest.”
Torres was an employee of Darington’s, although Finlay wasn’t exactly sure what the man did for his brother by marriage. He did know the Spaniard was instrumental in rescuing Alethea from men who’d sought to use her against their father, the scandalous incident that led to the Earl of Rockhaven’s exile. That Guillermo Torres could be trusted was not in doubt.
An idea took form in Finlay’s mind.
Bouncing his leg under the table, he held his silence as Torres ordered a cup of coffee and a hearty slice of pigeon pie. He’d just managed to stifle a flinch when the dark-haired man speared him with an intense look. “How is your campaign advancing for the Weobley seat?”
“How did you know about that?” Finlay dropped his spoon on the table with aclang. Several gentlemen at surrounding tables glanced their way but diverted their eyes elsewhere when confronted with Torres’s intimidating expression.
“I may have just returned, but it’s my job to know things.” He shrugged and nodded politely when his food was delivered. He speared a healthy piece of pie on his fork. “I know Abernathy is standing for it as well. The conservatives are struggling to unite behind him, because there’s concern about his suitability.” Torres leaned across the table as if sharing a great secret but didn’t drop the volume of his voice a decibel. “He was involved in a messy affair with a highborn lady several years back, if I remember correctly.”
Numerous heads nodded in acknowledgement around them, and Finlay realized Torres wanted others to hear him. He’d intended to remind the busybody patrons that Abernathy was not the moral paragon his supporters were attempting to portray him as.
Biting back a laugh, Finlay smoothed a hand over his mouth. He was tempted to follow up with a witty comment of his own but thought it best to let others make of Torres’s comment what they would. Instead, he asked, “Have you told Allie and Darington of my plans?”
“Of course not.” The Spaniard raised a dismissive brow. “That is your news to share. I merely informed them you were no longer in Herefordshire, but Her Grace said your last letter had been sent from London.”
“Yes, I’ve been here for several weeks now,” he murmured offhandedly, thoughts of how he felt about the man keeping abreast of his affairs tumbling through his head.
“While I’ve seen to His Grace’s affairs, I’ve also made it a point to keep an eye on his brother whenever my business brought me to London.” The man paused, a peculiar look flitting across his face. “I regret I was not here when the late duke needed me the most.”
Finlay swallowed and dropped his gaze to the tabletop. Men working for Finlay’s father murdered Albert, Darington’s late brother. That the duke and Alethea could overcome the horrible crimes Lord Rockhaven committed against Darington’s family was a testament to their love and respect for each other.
And apparently Finlay wasn’t the only one experiencing guilt over a tragic event he’d had no control of.
“So do not be alarmed if I know how you’ve kept busy in the year since Their Graces departed for St. Lucia,” Torres said, correctly divining Finlay’s thoughts. “You are important to them, and they are important to me.”
Finlay considered this for a moment and found he was relieved his sister and Darington had such loyal people surrounding them.
He hoped a little of that loyalty extended to him when he asked, “As such, would you be available to conduct a private investigation for me?”
“Is it for your campaign?”
“It’s not.” Finlay crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s personal.”
Torres narrowed his eyes. “Tell me.”
After explaining the crux of the situation in hushed tones, the man tapped his index finger on the table. “It’s going to be difficult without names.”
“Naturally.”
