Page 60 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
Chapter 17
Graciela’s heart pounded, a great weight like an anchor thrashing inside her head.
“I will see him alone,” Lord Bakeley said.
“No,” Charley said and “No,” she said at the same time.
Charley came and smoothed his hands over her forearms. He opened his mouth, but seemed unable to speak. “You wish to confront him,” he said finally.
She nodded, words suddenly failing her also.
“We shall all go,” Lady Sirena said. “Miss Kingsley is under our protection. We shall put you between Perry and me and he will see that you have family.”
“Paulette will regret missing this.” Mr. Gibson had come to stand with them.
Charley chafed her hands. “We won’t mention family or marriage plans yet. We’ll tell him as little as possible, only that we’re keeping you safe, here, under our roof. What say you?”
“Yes.” Yes. She would accept their protection, for herself, and her servants and for Reina. For now.
Next to Charleyand his brothers, Lord Kingsley did not look so tall, so grand, or so powerful.
She glimpsed him through the door, the side of his face stiffened into the mask that hid angry rage.
In the hallway, Lady Sirena turned her around, taking both of Graciela’s hands. “Deep breaths. Head up. Shoulders back. You’re a lady among ladies, and no matter the power he thinks he has, you’re with us now, and you’ve nothing to fear.”
She shook her head. “I am not afraid. I am angry.”
“Anger is good,” Lady Perry said. “As long as it sharpens you. We shall outfox this fox.”
She wondered how many foxes this lady had dealt with.
When she entered the drawing room between the elegant Lady Sirena and the taller Lady Perry, Kingsley’s refined mask slipped revealing the beast within. His eyes bulged and a boiling red seeped from the knot of his neck cloth up to his forehead. His chest puffed under the fashionable waistcoat her father’s money had paid for.
A memory flashed—Papa’s tense face as they outran a pirate ship. Papa had not worried so much nor fought so hard to buy this fat lord new coats.
He took a step toward her, and was matched by Mr. Gibson and Charley. Lord Bakeley, the lord of this house until his father returned, stepped between Lord Kingsley and her. The threat was not idle, and even Lord Kingsley could see it. Their refined society was not so far advanced. The three Everly men could heft Kingsley’s great weight out the front door and onto the cobblestones of the square like her father’s men combating a boarding party.
Worse, for Kingsley, they could continue tying him up in scandal sheets and magistrates and gossip, for surely the gossip had started.
How strange these English lords were—aside from Shaldon’s sons, words and legal documents meant more to most of them than a fist. Perhaps that was why Papa had left this land.
Kingsley fixed his lips into a tight smile. “You have found her then, Bakeley. I am glad to see she is safe.”
Liar.
“She is,” Bakeley said.
“Very well, then. If you’ll have a servant gather her things, I’ll take her off your hands.”
Lord Bakeley drew himself even taller. “We’ve heard some unsettling stories.”
Kingsley’s eyes flashed again and quickly shuttered. “The scandal sheet, you mean. Lies and nonsense. Probably planted by her.” He jerked his head toward Graciela.
“How would I possibly know how to do such a thing?” she said. “I lived like a prisoner in your home.”
Kingsley’s gaze stayed fixed on Lord Bakeley. She glanced to Charley who gave his head one quick shake and turned away, plucking at some imaginary lint on his coat.
“It was likely a busybody neighbor, or one of their servants.” Charley had rocked back on his heels, looking careless, feckless, one would say, almost drunk. “Heard a scream in the night, or some such,” he drawled. “Sent a note over to some fellow for an extra quid. It did sell well, I believe. It’s all the fellows at White’s could blabber about. Had a full page of wagers in the betting book.” He laughed, like a fool, like he had nary a care in the world, like her life was not strung in the balance here.
