Page 133 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
“Finally sleeping.”
Francisca tugged Graciela’s skirt into place and turned to leave.
“Wait, Francisca,” he said.
“I go back to Reina.”
He shook his head. “No. Meet us in the library. Juan is there already.”
“But…you do not mean for her to go to him? That man tried to take Graciela. You would let her walk into danger again?”
“I have to go,” Gracie said. “Llewellyn must pay for what he did, for what he is planning to do. I am going to go.”
Charley’s frown told her he agreed with Francisca.
She took his hand. “You know I must do this.”
His mouth firmed. “If he’s expecting all of you, it would be best if you and Juan went also, Francisca. But if you wish to stay behind—”
“No.” Francisca’s eyes blazed. “Two times we left you and bad things happened. We will not have a third.”
When the doorclosed on the maid, Charley took her into his arms. “I can’t help thinking Francisca is right.”
“That man,” she said shakily. “Did he…is he…?”
He took in a breath, debating whether to lie. Taking a human life was a burden she shouldn’t have to bear.
Yet her mother had borne it to save her daughter, hadn’t she?
She leaned back and looked up at him, clear-eyed. “Tell me, Charley.”
“Yes.”
She bit her lip and nodded.
“You did what you must. You saved Reina’s life. Who knows what they had in mind for her.”
“For her?”
He took a deep breath. “The man I coshed is talking.” He gripped her hands, trying to quell the anger churning inside him. “They weren’t there for you. They were there to take Reina.”
She stepped away from him and went to her discarded gown, retrieving the small book and stowing it into her pocket. She straightened, then bent over the garment again.
When she turned she held the empty dagger’s sheath. “Where is my blade?”
“I handed it to Kincaid. We’ll get it back.”
“Very well, Charley. Let us go and find Captain Llewellyn.”
When she enteredthe library on Charley’s arm, Lord Shaldon came around the table. Lord Bakeley and Mr. Gibson hovered nearby, and Kincaid waited near the window. Juan and Francisca stood by a shelf bursting with books.
It had been a mere few nights ago that she’d stumbled into this room, planning how to run away and find Captain Llewellyn and wondering if they might have a volume of Cervantes to share with Francisca.
What a sea-change fate had wrought—she’d learned the truth of Captain Llewellyn and risked all of Papa’s secrets to marry into this spy lord’s family. Instead of sharing the plot of a book, she and Francisca were plotting with all of these men.
Or, not all. “Where is Lord Farnsworth?” she asked.
“He’s gone ahead to see to things,” Lord Shaldon said. “He’ll be back shortly.”
