Page 61 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
Anger spiked in her until she remembered, he was acting, grandly, consummately, convincingly, and that sent her heart into a flurry. What should she believe of this man?
“You could not imagine,” Charley said in that same languorous tone. “Bets on the lady’s identity. Bets on the identity of her guardian. Bets on whether she was dead, and if so, where her body would be—”
“Enough, Charley,” Lord Bakeley said. “There are ladies present.”
Charley straightened, as if snapped back to reality. He bowed toward the ladies. “Oh, I do beg pardon.”
“Yes, well, this girl is alive, and I’m taking her home with me, with or without her things.”
“Tell us, my lord,” Mr. Gibson said, “What happened to the child who traveled with her?”
Kingsley’s glare bounced quickly off Mr. Gibson. His face blanched and colored again.
Ah. Here was the next rumor to be planted, that Lord Kingsley had done away with the child under Captain Kingsley’s care. “How should I know? Here now, Bakeley, I won’t be accused like this. Hand over the chit. She is coming with me.”
“I think we must have that answer,” Bakeley said.
“I’ve given it. She was there one moment, and the next, those two black servants had left and taken her with them. I don’t know where they went. Back to the West Indies, for all I know. Now, I’ll have the girl.”
He took a step toward her, and her blood rose, the threat transparent even with Lord Bakeley as an obstacle. Mr. Gibson drew nearer to her guardian, while Charley closed in behind him.
“Oh my,” Lady Sirena whispered. “A piece of work, he is that.”
The air in the room crackled like the lightning was coming. This would come to a fight, and Papa’s knife was upstairs in that pretty blue bedchamber.
But she had these three men as her weapon, and the two ladies as her fellow warriors.
“I think not,” Lord Bakeley said. “We are happy to have her as our guest until she wishes to leave.”
“Yes, well, I am not happy for her to be your guest, and I am her guardian. She is coming with me.”
“Oh, I say,” Charley said from behind, startling Kingsley. “Isn’t Father her guardian also?”
“He is,” Lord Bakeley said.
“He is not. Farnsworth is her guardian, and he is out of the country.”
“Well, I distinctly remember Father saying he was stepping up to replace Farnsworth in his absence.” Charley had moved to Lord Kingsley’s side and managed to make his bored tone sound threatening. “A damned bother, I’d say, all these beautiful young ladies to look after.”
Lord Kingsley looked at him then, for the first time, but all he would see was that bored, drunken, careless rogue. Charley’s eyes sparkled with an awareness that perhaps only she could see.
“I do wish to stay here with Lord and Lady Bakeley,” Graciela said, “and with Lord Shaldon. My father always spoke so highly of him and his accomplishments.” She was putting it on thickly, but surely Papa would have spoken thus, if they’d had more time together before he sailed.
“Shaldon is not here. You are coming with me.”
“I am not.”
“She is not.”
The voice boomed from the doorway and she turned to see a tall, elegant man, his hair laced with a few sprinklings of silver at his ears. He was dark like Lord Bakeley, but his strong jaw and straight nose were like those of all three of the Everly sons.
Or rather, theirs were like his.
“Th-thank you.” Her tongue stuck in her dry mouth. She swallowed and curtsied.
“Kingsley.” The gaze Charley’s father turned on Lord Kingsley was as hard and as cruel as the other man’s, and the sight of it rattled her.
“Here, now, Shaldon—”
