Page 140 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
“No Spanish hole,” Lady Kingsley said. “It must be an English-speaking port.”
“English speaking ports will have visits from English warships, Blanche,” he said over his shoulder. His eyes bore into her, darkening. “Graciela shall teach you to get along with the Spanish.”
Graciela shall murder Blanche in her bed, and you also if you dare to come near me.
She wiped the back of her hand over her cheeks. “Give me my child, and you may go on your way.”
Lady Kingsley moved closer, hemming Francisca in. A low growl escaped the maid’s throat.
“Oh, no.Youmust go with us.”
“You took her to force me, didn’t you, Llewellyn. And why am I so important? Charley Everly has all my money. Do you expect him to pay a ransom for a wife who has left him?”
“A ransom? We’re not asking for ransom. You’re insurance, Graciela, for when your fa—”
“Quiet,” Llewellyn thundered.
Hope lit in her. “Insurance? Because you fear my father. Because he has friends and allies and contacts in every port in the world. Because he’ll find you and he’ll kill you, both of you.”
Llewellyn’s gaze flitted over her face, masking whatever emotion he felt.
“Did you lie to the Crown about his death, Llewellyn?”
“Oh, tell her,” the witch said. “He may be dead, he may not be dead. We shall need you until he we are sure he is. After that, Grace, well, you are young and pretty and experienced. It is fortunate the Captain likes you because slavery is still legal in some parts of your world. We won’t need a ransom from your husband to raise funds.”
A shiver went through her. She knew the chilling truth of that. There were men who would buy an unprotected woman, and good luck escaping. “You wouldsellme, Llewellyn? Your friend’s daughter?”
His lips rolled into a sneer. “He was no friend to me.”
Bile rose in her. Her father had asked Llewellyn to check on her mother and her, Llewellyn claimed. Or had he?
There had been a man, an Englishman, killed by Llewellyn. A man who had supposedly killed her mother.
The truth swept through her with icy certainty. “Youkilled my mother, and our friend, and that man, whoever he was.”
Dios. Mama had received news that made her desperate to leave Tampico, to meet up with Papa. The man was probably Shaldon’s agent, not sent to kill Mama, but to collect the evidence that drove her to Veracruz.
His eyes slitted, dark and narrow as stilettos.
She put a hand to her breast and sobbed. “Oh, God. You took my daughter and killed her also.”
Behind the screen, Charley held his breath.Spill your guts, Llewellyn.
He’d cut a hole in the ratty dark velvet big enough for his eyes and the barrel of his pistol, if Llewellyn would cooperate and move closer, and if thecowwasn’t waving her own pistol about.
Best not to rush his fences. He’d come up with this plan, and he’d promised to let Gracie lead the man into an admission of guilt.
“Stop this, Grace.” The bastard reached for her arm, and she stepped away.
“No denial? So youareguilty. You murdered my mother because she found out you were a traitor and a thief and she was going to unmask you. You murdered her friend because she was there. And the man there that day? He was not her killer but an agent who you killed. You kept me alive because you thought you would use me as your whore. Admit it.”
Sweat trickled down Charley’s back. Her voice was strong, but from this angle he could not see her face.
“What if I did,” Llewellyn said. “You are coming with us, whether you like it or not.”
Not a straight-out admission, but enough for him. He stood and slipped through the shadows past the screen.
“I have something else to show you,” Gracie said. “The lamp, Francisca.”
