Page 143 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
Charley pulled out the book of sonnets and tossed it to Farnsworth. “Here, your ladyship. You may read it in jail while you wait for the hangman. Do not worry, it is naught but a copy from the library at Shaldon House.”
She laughed, the witch. “It was accidental. With all of you fighting, the gun went off. I will not be in jail, nor will I hang. I am the wife of a peer. But this man of hers, he may hang for stabbing me.”
“I think not, Blanche,” Father said. “Since clearly he was defending my son’s wife. But if you would like to talk, we will listen.”
“Yes, I will talk, Shaldon, and you will not like what I have to share in the scandal sheets about your precious son’s wife.”
Father sighed. “Ever the bully, Blanche.” He nodded to Farnsworth. “See that she’s chained. Charge her with treason, attempted child stealing for ransom, and, for now, attempted murder.”
“I am no traitor. It was Llewellyn and Kingsley.”
“And who else was involved, Blanche? Who were you sailing with tonight?”
“You would like information, and I might have it.”
Charley stood and pulled Gracie up with him, making room for the men seeing to Llewellyn. He moved her over to the narrow bed and sat down next to her.
“Is Francisca well?”
She nodded. “She’s tending to Juan now.”
“Let’s clean this blood off.” He slipped the dagger from her hand and wiped it on the bedcovers. The blade shimmered in the lamplight. He’d come upon Father examining it earlier, after he’d cleaned it. Her father’s gift. “It’s done you good service this day.”
She nodded and leaned into his shoulder.
She was unable to speak. All of the day’s bravery had caught up with her. He pulled her close while he studied the blade. From the hilt to the point was a series of lines and circles, expertly traced, in no particular arrangement that he could make sense of.
His mouth went dry, certainty creeping over him. He’d once studied a code that used these symbols.
Gracie’s hand covered his. “I must have that back,” she said. “I…I treasure it.”
“Of course.” He bit back a smile and slipped it into the sheath at her waist.
He’d married a woman who kept her promises.
“Let’s go home and check on Reina.” He drew her to her feet. “And tomorrow, I’ll buy her a roomful of dolls.”
They manageda quick change of clothes and a visit to the nursery before being summoned to the library where Bakeley and the ladies waited, demanding a report.
Charley obliged, in great detail, and was all but finished when Lord Shaldon returned with Mr. Gibson and Thomas in tow.
Charley’s father excused the ladies so politely, it was a wonder Lady Perry protested before leaving. Graciela got up to leave also, but he bade her stay.
Charley seated himself, his arm finding her, lending her his strength. She’d been very brave, they all said, but inside her heart hurt. She’d ended one man’s mortal existence. She’d confirmed another man’s grave betrayal. How did men bear this sort of burden?
“Where are Farnsworth and Kincaid?” Charley asked.
“Farnsworth is with Blanche.” Lord Shaldon’s lip curled and he threw back a whisky.
It was the most emotion she’d seen him display since she’d asked him if he’d killed her mother.
“Kincaid has Llewellyn in hand. He’ll last a few days. Bakeley, I would ask you and Bink to get some sleep and then set off after Lord Kingsley. We’ll need him back.”
Graciela found Charley’s hand and clutched it. Her guardian would face consequences, yet this was not over. “What of Carvelle?”
He looked away, frowning. “The coastal patrols are searching. They’re bringing in Llewellyn’s ship as well. The Duque’s yacht is another matter. He’ll claim diplomatic privileges, and the King won’t want to cause a stir so close to his coronation.”
“Did she confirm her plan to escape on that yacht?” Charley asked.
