Page 135 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
Chapter 33
“Cook has goneall out for us.” Charley dished up more meat and vegetables for Gracie’s plate. She’d push it around a bit before finally eating some of it, staring into space with visions of the nightmare in the garden. Gads, but he wished this night was over.
Kincaid had launched into what was for him a rambling discussion of the pluses and minuses of traveling to Southwark via Westminster Bridge or London Bridge, as though he were drawing this out, killing time.
When Farnsworth burst in, his hair damp, his neck cloth askew, Charley knew why Kincaid had stalled. Bink’s temporary ward, Thomas Beauverde, slid in behind him.
They were up to something, these wily old men.
Father saw Thomas also, and glanced at Bink, who looked up from his full plate and sent the boy a glare. Father signaled Thomas to take a seat.
Young Thomas was a cagey one, barely fourteen, and yet Charley would bet his next quarter’s allowance, Father had plans to groom the boy for the service.
Bink would not be happy about that.
“I don’t like it.” Farnsworth took a plate and filled it. “Men milling about in front of every inn on Borough High Street.”
Gracie sat up. “They’re laying an ambush.”
That’s my girl.Charley squeezed her shoulder. “Was he there?”
“He checked into the Talbot earlier and went out. No bags. We got a man in to search his room. Not a thing there.”
“So whereishe staying?” Charley asked.
They waited for Farnsworth to swallow.
“My guess? The White Hart.” He forked a piece of potato and chewed thoughtfully. “I also saw Payne-Elsdon in the public room there.”
“Who?” Gracie asked.
“A fellow club member,” Charley said. “An agent. For whom, we don’t know.”
“We’re likely to find out tonight,” Kincaid said.
“What do you mean?” Gracie asked.
“If Payne-Elsdon spotted one of our men,” Farnsworth said, “whichever villain is missing tonight might be the one he works for.”
“But who is there besides Llewellyn, Kingsley, and Carvelle?” she asked. “And you’ve said Carvelle is in Kent, and Kingsley left for his country estate.”
She’d forgotten to mention the Duque.
“Something else,” Farnsworth said. “A woman took a suite of rooms at the White Hart this morning. From the description, I’d say it could be Lady Kingsley.”
Utensils clattered as Gracie jumped up. “Lady Kingsley?”
“Well, well,” Kincaid said. “Our man said Kingsley left town today, and she wasn’t with him.”
“Dear God.” Charley pinched the bridge of his nose where a headache was starting. “The woman who visited him that day at his hotel. What the devil could be their connection?”
Gracie stood and began to pace. “And why match me up with Carvelle if she is in league with the Captain. Has Carvelle surfaced anywhere nearby?”
“No,” Kincaid said. “Mayhap Kingsley found another way to pay off that debt to Carvelle.”
A debt to be paid, the Duquesa had said. But perhaps not the Duque’s debt. Perhaps she had found a way to get the Duque to pay Kingsley’s debt to Carvelle.
“I don’t understand.” Graciela turned to him, eyes burning. “It can’t be her. Llewellyn is so far beneath her socially, she wouldn’t take him as a lover.” She fisted her hands. “Let’s go. Let’s go now.”
