Page 71 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
She turned to face him, her eyes shining. “He did not ask about Reina. He had dinner with Papa the night we departed. He knew she was aboard.”
Charley eased out a breath. Whoever’s child Reina had been, she was Gracie’s now. Only a man ignorant of Reina’s existence, or a fool, would forget to include her in his wooing. “Perhaps he thought you had delivered her to her grandparents.”
“He had to have known we’d had no response to our letters, else we would have diverted to the Peninsula. He had to have known she accompanied us to London. I’m sure Papa would have told him.”
“Perhaps he thought you found a place...a home... for her here.”
He spoke softly, watching for her reaction.
“I willneverabandon her, Charley.” She clenched her fists. “It is not her fault that she...exists.”
He stayed very still. Perhaps now she would tell him the truth of that little girl.
“And you have very nimbly changed the subject. That woman, is she your mistress?”
“I don’t have a mistress, Gracie.”
“Your occasional lover then? Or something else? Another spy?”
She was hurdling too close to the truth. “You are the only woman in my life now, Gracie.”
Her laugh was scoffing. She shook her head. “Why, Charley?”
“Because we are going to be married, and I would never be unfaithful to a wife.”
“Ay, Dios. She is beautiful, and probably powerful and rich. And likely has state secrets to share. If she snaps her fingers you will not turn away. You are too single minded. About this marriage scheme, about your duty to England, about your family. Single minded here, single minded there. I do not know which Charley you truly are.” She sighed. “But I do know the true Charley must feel trapped by my impetuous act this morning. The true Charley does not wish to marry, and if you do, it is not in the nature of any of your selves to be a faithful husband.”
A week ago, he would have agreed with her. But now, the sharp words cut.
He opened his mouth and she waved a hand at him. “No. You don’t want to marry. You won’t like it, not even to please your family. Your father—he was surprised, but pleased, I think. What did he say to you after I left the room?”
“You wound me, Gracie. You are far too cynical.”
She colored deeply under her frown. “What did your father say? Tell me.”
“Very well. He has sunk his teeth into this marriage scheme, yet he will not force either of us.”
He held her gaze until she turned away.
“At least he encouraged me to go out. He did not try to confine me in your elegant prison.”
Anger bristled through him. Gracie was no trained operative. “He ought not have. He hasn’t seen what that man did to you. He hasn’t seen your back.”
“Neither have you.”
“Mrs. Windle’s testimony is enough for me. That bruise on your cheek is enough for me.”
She leaned back against the squab. “It is healing well, I think. Still sore, but better. Her ointment is very effective. Were those men at the hotel door yours?”
“Yes.”
“What will they do with the Captain?”
Would that they’d keelhaul him into the Thames. “They’ll watch him and his visitors.”
“Do you suppose he had a visitor above stairs? Do you suppose that’s why he would not allow us into his rooms?” She reached for his hand and his heart lurched. “Would Kingsley have been there? Or Carvelle?”
At her mere touch, desire roared through him. “We shall learn very soon.” He swept a thumb over her cool, ungloved palm, then stripped off his own glove. “Come here.”
