Page 46 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
“You may remove your veil, my dear,” Mr. Gibson said quietly.
She gripped the lacy edge with shaking hands and tore it back, pulling the attached bonnet askew, trying to right it, and knocking out a hair pin. She took a deep breath. The room was brighter than she’d thought. A lamp stood lit behind the desk, dispelling London gloom and the chilly shadow of money.
And the banker’s eyes were a startled shade of blue.
“I apologize for my deception, sir.” She swallowed and tried to clear her throat. Her hands moved to the carved wooden chair arms and gripped them as she rushed on. “You see that I am not Mrs. Gibson, but someone else entirely. There have been...attempts. Upon my person. And I have found sanctuary at Shaldon House and the protection of these good men and their sister, Lady Perpetua. And I have recently learned that you are my banker.”
His mouth dropped open.
Mr. Gibson leaned forward in his seat. “This is—”
“Wait. Please, Mr. Gibson,” she said. “Mr. McCollum, may I have your assurance to protect my identity and location? It will sound dramatic but it is true that my very life may depend upon it.”
“Grace Kingsley.” McCollum’s throat constricted on her name.
She was that much of a scandal, she supposed. “Yes. It is I.” And if she could not trust him, her fate was entirely in Everly hands.
She took a deep breath. No. Her fate would always be in her own hands.
The banker’s face grew hard, judgmental, and his eyes began to glitter. It was Kingsley’s face before he used the cane. She felt a burning trickle down her back and fought the shiver that wanted to go with it.
She became aware of Charley’s large, strong hand upon her own, and breathed again.
“Miss Kingsley would like your agreement of confidentiality and to know the state of her funds,” Mr. Gibson said. They had agreed that he would start this negotiation.
The banker blanched. “I assure you, they are in good order.”
“She would like to know the details.” Charley gave her hand a squeeze and released her to reach into a pocket. “Perhaps you’ve read this?” He slid a newsprint across the desk. “The description of her plight? Anonymous, but accurate. Our housekeeper has left a sworn testament to the condition of Miss Kingsley’s back after her guardian’s floggings. It is all ready to be presented to the proper authorities.”
The banker’s entire face darkened as the blood rose into it, perhaps choking off his ability to speak.
Mr. Gibson leaned forward, like a bear she had seen once in the Alta California hills, ready to attack. The bear had moved more swiftly than his size gave credit for, and this man, big as he was, was all muscle. He could shoot across the desk in moments and fall upon his prey.
“Many a man might think such punishment appropriate for an uncooperative ward,” Mr. Gibson said. “If you be such, McCollum, I shall have a note for our funds today.”
“Here, now.” McCollum sucked in a great breath. “It is...that is...no, I do not countenance floggings, of course not. She should not have to suffer that sort of discipline. You should talk to Watelford, her solicitor.”
Her pulse pounded. He spoke as ifshewere not sitting here.
“Do you countenance abductions then?” Charley asked. “We did, in fact, escort Miss Kingsley to Watelford’s and found men lying in wait to abduct her.”
Taking those men had yielded naught as yet, the man Kincaid had reported. They were hired men from the docks who claimed to know nothing.
Her head was spinning in the currents around them.
The banker’s eyes narrowed.
“They did not succeed, of course.” Charley squeezed her hand again. “As Miss Kingsley said, she is under the protection of the Earl of Shaldon.”
“You knew of the attempt to take her?” Mr. Gibson’s voice was a cudgel.
“No.” The banker’s fingers rattled on the desk. “That is...I was told of it after the fact.”
By whom?She wanted to shout the words, but he rushed on in his nearly unfathomable accent.
“There are no men lying in wait at my bank. I would not allow such a thing.” He drew himself higher in the chair. “And Miss Kingsley’s account is a matter to be discussed with one of her guardians.” He drew a file from a stack on his desk and opened it. “Lord Kingsley of course. And Lord Farnsworth...or...” he shifted a paper, “his substitute.” He lifted his eyes and glanced at the two men. “The terms of the guardianship allowed for a substitution if one of the guardians was incapacitated or unavailable. Farnsworth has left the country and has duly substituted Lord Shaldon.”
Shock slammed her,whooshingthe air out of her. “Your father?” Farnsworth, who had never bothered to as much as introduce himself or visit her, had put her in the charge of a sick man and had told no one?
