Page 104 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
The great bulky carriage stopped with a flurry of action. The man called Kincaid jumped out. Charley cupped some hidden away weapon, still clutching her hand.
“Let me out, Charley.” She nudged his unmoving bulk.
Only when Kincaid signaled that all was clear did Charley climb out and pull her into his arms.
“Put me down. I can walk.”
Grinning all the way to the entrance hall, he finally set her on her feet. “Lest you’ve forgotten it’s our wedding night."
Memories of the previous night’s pleasure flooded her, and she shook them off. She needed some time away from these men. She needed to think about what the Duque had said, about what her Papa had said, and the secrets he’d left in her care.
“I’m going to go see that Reina is alright.”
His hands stroked her arms. “You know she’s asleep now, else we would hear her.”
Lord Shaldon’s steps echoed, and he and his men moved down the hall towards the library.
Charley must have seen them with the spy’s eyes in the back of his head. “We must go and talk to Father first.”
She tried to pull away. “Yougo and talk to your father.”
“And what? Manage your life for you? Don’t you want to hear it for yourself when Father says the name of the traitor he’s after?”
One footman remained in the hall with them, pretending not to listen. She moved closer and whispered, “Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
His brown eyes glowed in the light of the entryway lamp, rich, dark, and enticing. Warmth touched her where his hands rested. Only warmth, no pressure.
“The spy isnotmy father.”
“I believe you. And I wasn’t sent to spy on you.” He screwed up his mouth. “As far as I know. But, howdidI wind up at your betrothal ball? I must ask Perry about that invitation. Very likely, Farnsworth knew that once I laid eyes upon you I’d be interested. That was true, and from the moment you shushed me in Kingsley’s garden, I was yours.”
Like molten honey, the words trickled in, soothing her.
But—he was a consummate liar. She had to toughen her heart and play at his game. But how?
She could counter that she had become his, but at what moment?
When she’d fainted into his arms? When she’d met him in the Kingsley kitchen the night she’d escaped? Or was it when his eyes had lit up at the sight of her little girl. Or…when he’d kissed Rigo’s brand...
She blinked and looked at his neck cloth, still perfectly creased. He had made her forget about the horrible times, had made her feel again. And she still didn’t altogether know what he had planned for her. It was too much. It had happened too quickly, and what could she do about it? If she were to escape this, she would have to leave part of her heart behind.
“It seems I am yours also, Charley, at least for this time.”
“Let it be for all time.” He bent and put his lips to her forehead.
She squeezed her eyes closed. She must not sink into these warm feelings. She must think.
And he was right, she needed to know what Shaldon would say, and then she could decide how to proceed.
“Yes. Of course. As you say. For all time.” She shook him off, slipped under his arm and headed down the corridor toward the library.
Charley caught up and she waited for his touch on her arm, her hand, her waist. It did not come. When she glanced at him, he was staring ahead.
A tiny piece of her heart ripped and she straightened her shoulders. Let him be angry. Should the secrets she carried require her to leave, it would be easier if he was setting the first little bit of distance.
Scattered candles brought light to the room. A lamp illuminated Lord Shaldon in an armchair and another man across the library table, his back to the door. Outside the circle of light, Mr. Kincaid stood resting his hands on a chair. Relaxed, but he was the sort of man who could, one second later, pick up that chair and swing it at a threat.
