Page 95 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
“I can come with you when you visit your property,” Lady Perry said. “Shall we go soon? I know it is your honeymoon, but surely you will want to take Reina, and I can happily divert her and play nursemaid. You may put me in another wing of the house entirely.”
“Perry.” Charley’s voice held a warning.
“Or I can sleep in the nursery.”
Loud shouting erupted nearby, sending her nerves jumping. “Remind me now why we had to come,” she whispered to Charley.
He squeezed her hand, but his other was reaching into his coat, where she knew he had a weapon stored. “Father insisted,” he whispered back.
The carriage jerked ahead and the noise subsided. Whatever the trouble, it had been settled.
She clung to his hand, trying to be brave, but the night with so little sleep, the bustle of the morning and onslaught of family and friends, the fitting into this beautiful gown and the afternoon...
She pressed a hand to her throat and felt the jewels resting there. Charley’s engagement gift was a necklace of the palest rose quartz beads, polished like pearls and strung between silver spacers. It matched her pale pink gown and its overlay of silver gauze netting. The description of the gown had not sounded beautiful. She had thought to wear it out of obligation.
But then she had seen it, and when Madame slipped it over her head, she became like a princess.
The diamond on her finger dazzled also even in the dim lamp of the coach lights. That had been Charley’s mother’s. She would treasure it.
“Do not leave my side,” she said quietly. “I shall fill up my dance card with your relatives and friends. Your brothers and Penderbrook.” She ticked off the names on her fingers. “They can each dance with me twice. Does the Vicar dance, do you think?”
“Perhaps a country dance.”
“I will importune him for two. And you, Lord Shaldon—”
“Lame leg, my dear. That will be enough as we are not staying the whole night. Charles must do his duty for the rest of the evening.” He nodded at his son and another rare smile bloomed.
Next to her, Charley squirmed. She looked at him quickly and saw his embarrassed nod.
Oh. There had been a second meaning to Lord Shaldon’s comment.
It was clear, father and son cared for each other. There was a silent conversation in this moment, an exchange of emotion, a closeness, and no wonder—they were both in the same profession. Neither Lord Bakeley nor Mr. Gibson had followed their father into the spy business. Nor Lady Perry, though if ever a lady was prime for adventure, it was Perry. She was cloaked in a sense of restlessness that her father and brothers did not see.
The lights brightened as they approached the rooms rented for the occasion, and she straightened and closed her eyes for a moment. She must act a lady tonight, for Charley’s sake and for Papa’s. She must make him proud, even if it turned out that he was truly dead.
Charley exited first, his gaze sweeping the arrival area. Their guards were in place. The footmen hired for the ball were held at a distance. The lights of the assembly rooms beckoned. Now they had only to face the evening and the possibility, the very likely possibility he thought, of a confrontation with Kingsley, or Carvelle, or possibly the Duque himself.
He shook off the sense of impending doom. It wasn’t like him to look for the worst. He’d deal with whatever came up, with Father, and Bink, and Bakeley to back him up.
It was Gracie he worried about. Gracie, and the terrible portent that greeted him every time his eyes met his father’s.
He knew that look. Father was quite pleased with his choice of a bride, which meant…Gracie was the key to a spy. Perhaps not the spy Farnsworth had set him upon, the one mixed up in his mother’s death, but another one. For Father, the war would never be over. In his devious way, he had used Bink’s marriage to Paulette, and Bakeley’s marriage to Sirena, to lure old enemies.
Charley assisted both ladies down, and by the time his father was ready to exit, the ladies had moved to stand with the guards, and his brothers had joined him.
Bakeley glanced around. “Bink and I agree. Insisting you go to this ball on your wedding night? Father is up to something.”
“Do you know who we’re looking for, Charley?” Bink asked. “A bit of intelligence would help.”
“Someone related to a Spanish lady,” he said.
“The Duque,” Bakeley said.
“Or Kingsley.” Bink clamped a hand on Charley’s shoulder. “Never fear. We’ll all help you protect her. Even Kincaid here.”
Kincaid had arrived, dressed in Shaldon livery. He would keep track of the guards, the teams, and the coaches. They stepped back to let him assist Shaldon.
“Ten to one, whoever it is, he or she will be here tonight.” Bink grinned.
