Page 144 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
“The Duque’s yacht?” Graciela asked. “She was connected to him?” She let out a breath. “They think my father took the Duque’s ship, one they’d invested in.”
“The night of the ball, the Duquesa told me he was bringing the yacht up to take someone important out,” Charley said.
“So that was the whispering in your ear.” She looked at their hands locked together.
Charley was wrong. The Duquesa was wrong. The Duque didn’t send the boat for someone important—he sent it for somethingimportant. He wanted the book.
He knew what the book contained.
The thought terrified her.
“Lady Kingsley did not mean to leave with Llewellyn,” she said.
“No,” Lord Shaldon said.
“She meant all along to shoot him.”
“That is likely.”
“Dios.”
Shaldon’s faraway gaze had not changed.
Graciela rose, went to him, and touched his shoulder. “Was it she who killed Lady Shaldon?”
The three brothers went still. Lord Shaldon rested a hand atop hers and sighed. “She is ruthless enough. Was she always so? She had relatives in the East Riding. I’d met her at a neighbor’s house party when I came back from Ireland to marry. Felicity loved the seacoast and the wild country.” He paused. “Bring over that bottle, Charles, and pour each of us a round.”
“Did she pursue you, my lord?” Gracie asked.
Charley’s mouth had dropped open. Lord Bakeley’s gaze sharpened.
“Blanche wanted a title, and my brother had just died, bequeathing me his. And I wonder if you might call me Father, unless you think Captain Kingsley will mind.”
“Oh.” She blinked and glanced round the room. Lord Bakeley had covered his mouth, Mr. Gibson was rolling his eyes, and Charley’s lips quivered.
The brothers did not mind.
Lord Shaldon’s gaze was so much like her Papa’s, discerning and wise. He was a man of secrets also, able to keep them, and perhaps able to allow others to keep their own.
She dropped a quick kiss on his cheek. “I call him Papa, so I know he will not mind if I call you Father.”
He poured a glass and raised it. “To a successful mission.”
She took the glass Charley handed her. “And to Lady Shaldon.”
Charley came and touched his glass to hers. “And to Señora Maria Esperanza Romero de Kingsley."
She smiled. “How did you know—oh, from the book of sonnets.”
She took a drink and let the liquor burn through her, getting up her nerve.
“My lord…Father. Do not forget to return me the book of sonnets.”
“As soon as repairs have been made,” he said.
“And the sheet of numbers?” She eased in a breath and held it through his long pause.
“Yes,” he said finally, and smiled. “Now let me show you the deed to your property.” He stood, all business again. “Come join me in my study.”
