Page 139 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
“Not the prayer book. Kingsley burned that, the fool. And do not play dumb with me.”
“Your mother’s little book of sonnets.” Llewellyn clipped every quiet word.
A roaring started in her ears, and the crowded room shrank to just her and Llewellyn and the cow. Her hand twitched with the need to drive the dagger through both of them.
She blinked back angry tears, and reminded herself, she was after more than revenge. She wanted a confession first.
“You left it behind at Shaldon House?” he asked.
“What if I did?”
His gaze narrowed on her.
She glared back.
The room went still and a darkness came over him, the look of a captain ready to bring out the whip. No wonder he’d taken up with Lady Kingsley.
And she would die before she let the woman beat her again.
“The book, Grace,” he said.
“How do you know about that book, Llewellyn?”
“Your mother told me about it, and I know you took it with you when you left Kingsley House. You treasure it too much to leave it behind when you leave England. I’ll keep it safe for you. The time for games is over.”
“Indeed. I am also finished with games.” She freed a hand, reaching through the slit in her cloak, and slid out a small volume. “Is this what you want?”
Llewellyn’s face lit and her jaw ached. She must hold her tongue. She must play this out.
“Give it to me.” Lady Kingsley reached out a hand.
“My mother treasured her book. You may get one of these in any book shop.”
Llewellyn pried the book from her hand, his face grim. “Ah, butthisbook is the one we want.”
She let out a breath and watched him page through it, tracing a fingertip along the bindings.
A weary smile lit his face. “I’m sorry, Grace, but this one we must have. I shall buy you a new one my dear. I shall buy you a whole collection of Shakespeare.”
There was kindness in the smile, and something like relief. It almost brought back the man she thought she knew. But the book...Lady Kingsley...Reina…
She must push him to reveal more, to admit his guilt.
Lady Kingsley tried to snatch the small volume from him, but he tucked it into a pocket and said, “Later.”
He reached for Graciela’s hand. “Come then. I’ll take you, and your servants may stay here.”
She stepped away. “Where is my daughter?” she asked, in the shakiest voice she could conjure.
“Enough foolishness. I’ve told you she’s safe.”
“But she is not here.” She gave in to the urge to sob and squeezed out a tear. “I should not have come. This was a terrible mistake.”
Lady Kingsley laughed. “Why don’t you faint, Grace.”
Blood pounded in her ear. She still clutched the dagger under her heavy shawl, but Lady Kingsley had picked up her pistol.
“It’s not a mistake,” Llewellyn said soothingly. His hand stroked her cheek, smearing her tears, sending a shiver of revulsion through her. “You’ll be happy at home. Though we will not go to Veracruz. Perhaps we shall settle in Maracaibo.”
