Page 118 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
Chapter 29
The Kingsley townhousewas located in an area of London rapidly becoming unfashionable, though their street had held up better than others, and Kingsley House, with recent improvements made possible by Graciela’s trust, was the handsomest building on the street.
A startled maid opened the door to Charley’s knock, and before she could find words, he stepped into the hall.
Trunks were piled in the entry way, with two footmen carrying down more. Lady Kingsley herself was directing the consignments.
Her shocked gaze greeted him, but she drew herself up. “Mr. Everly. We are not receiving visitors, as you see.”
“Good day, my lady. Luckily, this is not a social call. I’m here to speak to Lord Kingsley.”
“He is not at home.”
One footman glanced at the other, and he knew she was lying. “Where may I find him? It is imperative that I speak with him today, and may I add, in his best interests.”
“How dare you come calling. He is not—”
“Never mind.” The low growl came from the corridor that led to the back of the house. Lord Kingsley stepped out of the shadows, bringing the darkness with him. His complexion had gone a mottled shade of red and his thinning hair drooped. With a terse nod, he directed Charley to an open doorway.
He closed the door on his wife.
The drawing room curtains were shut tight and Holland cloths draped the furniture. Charley went to the window and pulled open the curtains. If Kingsley decided to seek revenge for his violent removal from Shaldon House, he’d best have some light to deal with the man.
“I’ve come for my wife’s things,” Charley said.
“Her things?” Kingsley asked.
“When you visited my father, he told you to send her things over.”
“I did.”
“You sent over the dresses she arrived with. She needs the rest of her wardrobe. The new things she purchased with her money from her trust.”
“You’ve come about her wardrobe? That’s imperative?”
“Yes, and whatever other personal items she may have left, brushes and combs, and she also mentioned two books that belonged to her mother.”
He waited for Kingsley’s reaction.
“Two books?” A shadow crossed Kingsley’s eyes and they narrowed. “Two? There was but one, some Spanish Papist twaddle.”
“There were two. And you did not find the other one, a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets?”
“There was only one.”
“Yes, well, I’ll have it then, along with her gowns. I’ll wait while you have a servant pack them.”
“You’ll have nothing. The gowns are gone. My lady has taken them—”
“A first season girl’s wardrobe?” Charley laughed. “On an elderly matron?”
“That girl was no young innocent, as you discovered.” An ugly smile twisted his lips. “My lady can use them for rags or give them to the servants, I care not.”
“I see.” Wouldn’t the scandal sheets like to have that piece of news? “And what of the other personal items?”
“Whatever she had was given to the servants.”
“And her jewelry?”
