Page 21 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
“Go,” her husband said.
“If you’ve killed her…” She spluttered and threw up her hands, taking her rage with her. Blanche was afraid for her reputation among the other useless nobles.
Afraid was what she should be, questioning him about the chit she couldn’t manage.
Kingsley’s hand shook while he lit the lamp in his study, throwing glances back at Carvelle.
Carvelle lifted the shirt and gritted his teeth at the pain. He didn’t know the hour, but the blood’d had time to congeal.
His man, Kees, appeared.
“Cut this shirt off,” Carvelle said. “You’ll need to fish out the fibers. Where is that woman with the water?”
“That woman is my wife,” Kingsley said. “And what have you done to Miss Kingsley?”
“Bugger your wife, and bugger that whore.”
Even in the dim light he could see Kingsley’s face flush a dark shade of red. “Made a deal with the devil, haven’t you, Kingsley, and you’ll just have to walk with it. I’ll need a fresh shirt.”
Kingsley’s mouth firmed, but he left the room.
Kees finished ripping the shirt and stowed his knife.
“And you.” He turned on the man. “I can smell the gin on you. You let her walk right past, didn’t you?”
Kees frowned. “I did as you told. I tended to the horses. I ignored any noises from in the house.”
“You sat in the stables and drank.”
The man lifted his shoulder. “No one passed by. Coming or going. It was quiet as death outside.” He poked at the skin around the wound. “It is not so bad. I have had worse. I will need a...a something to pull on the thread. Wait here.”
As he left, Kingsley returned bearing a stack of white flannels. “The water is boiling. A servant will bring a shirt. Where is she?”
“You tell me. Where would she go?”
“Did you take her first?” Kingsley’s mouth twisted.
“We will say that I did. And you might search your garden. She may be splattered below. She went out the window.”
Kingsley’s eyes widened. “Three stories up?”
“Consider that she was probably allowed to run wild on her father’s ships.”
“I would have put bars on the windows had I thought of it.”
“You didn’t need bars until you let her child escape. Find the child, and you’ll find the mother.”
Kingsley swiped a hand over his face, went to a sideboard and poured two glasses.
“Here.” He handed Carvelle a snifter and took a healthy swallow from his own glass.
“Enjoying my brandy, Kingsley? If you want to keep yourself in brandy and your wife in frills, you had best bring that girl to the altar. It will be worse than a debtor’s cell for you, Kingsley. The new king may allow one more drawing and quartering.”
“You shall be right at my side on the gallows.”
Carvelle stood and threw the glass against the empty fireplace. “You dare to threaten me? You forget I have ships and men who serve me. I can be far away from English justice. Perhaps I’ll find a true Spanish aristocrat to wed, not your cast-off pirate spawn. Find her.”
Kees entered then, carrying a steaming bucket, the elderly manservant in attendance, and Kingsley stalked out
