Page 76 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
She wasn’t at all convinced of Papa’s death. And he had been quite cagey about this voyage. He’d talked only vaguely about his cargo and more certainly about the danger of his daughter and tiny ward sailing with him. With the demise of Spanish power, a pirate war had arisen in the West Indies. He had deposited her and Reina, and the servants at Lord Kingsley’s estate, and gone back to London to arrange his business affairs. And she knew he had not shared the details of those with even Lord Kingsley. Had he shared them with Lord Shaldon?
Her nerves prickled. What had Shaldon said earlier? Her father had served England. Heisa good man.
“I should like to have a word with your father. Is he here?”
“In the study, I think.” Lady Sirena said.
“Come along,” Lady Perry said, “I’ll take you there.”
As it turned out, Lord Shaldon had gone out also.
Lady Perry gripped the door handle and rattled it. “I haven’t yet been able to pick this lock.”
“I haven’t mastered that skill, either,” Graciela said.
Lady Perry laughed. “Perhaps we’ll study it together some day.”
With neither father nor son around, Graciela wandered up to the nursery. Francisca was nowhere around, and the nursemaid was happy for the chance to run downstairs for a cup of tea. She spent the rest of the afternoon with Reina, reading to her, cuddling her, playing with her, like they used to do before they’d settled into Lord Kingsley’s cold and formal world.
“There you are.” Francisca entered the nursery room and settled a dinner tray onto a table. “I must speak with you, Graciela.”
Unease threaded through her. “Yes of course.” She kissed Reina, turned her over to the nursery maid, and let Francisca pull her into the corridor.
“After the modiste left, no one knew where you were,” Francisca said.
“I was with the ladies, and then I was here.”
“My heart almost stopped. I asked the housekeeper, and the maids. The footmen, too. This house is so big. You must be careful.”
She touched the maid’s arm. “What has happened?”
“The footmen were whispering. They thought I didn’t understand, but there are strangers lurking around the mews and the square.” She took Graciela’s hand. “You must be careful. I have spoken to Juan.”
She peeked in the door at the child, who was happily gobbling her meal with the cheerful girl’s help. Reina was having fewer tantrums and seemed happier here, yet she would have to disrupt her again.
“We must leave here, and soon.”
Francisca shook her head. “And go where? I am afraid for you, Graciela. I am afraid for the little one. You must take great care.”
The dinner bell gonged. Francisca hugged her. “There will be guests tonight, they said. Go, and I will be along in a moment to help you dress.”
A fussy whine came from the nursery.
“No. You stay with Reina. I’ll get one of the maids to help me.”
When she walked through her bedchamber, door, she found Charley waiting there.
The infernally long wait forGracie to come dress for dinner had given Charley time to peruse her room. To search it actually.
He loosened his neck cloth against the heat from the coals glowing in the grate, and looked around. Her jewelry was spare, family pieces no doubt, and she had enough money for a few nights on the road, though he doubted she would know that.
The slim volume of Shakespeare’s sonnets was interesting. Well-thumbed, it sat beside her bed next to the dagger. The title page of the book made clear it was a gift from Captain Kingsley to his wife. Messages sprinkled the pages, in a lovers’ code.
It vaguely depressed him.
Their engagement might be a ruse, but he had found an engagement gift for one lady, and had spied out something else for the smaller one.
It was the only spying that had gone well. If Llewellyn had been entertaining a member of the demimonde in his chambers, no one in that circle was talking about it.
