Page 70 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
He would smooth things over with Kingsley and then drag her off to an altar himself.
She put her hand to her chest, teetered against Charley and inhaled sharply. “Please. I must get out of this room. Immediately.”
Charley’s heartclenched and he wrapped an arm around Gracie. “Move out of the way, Llewellyn.” She was about to fake another faint.
“Grace, you cannot think to go with this man. He is a rakehell, a despoiler of young women. Your reputation—what would your father have said?”
She choked for air, her face going pale. Real concern shot through Charley. He slid an arm under her knees and picked her up. “Out of the way. Now.”
Llewellyn gave way, glaring. The door opened and Charley marched past two curious gentlemen.
He nodded to them. “My father shall summon you,” he said over his shoulder. “And I shall keep the lady safe.” He heard Llewellyn behind him, cursing.
At the front door, Gracie wriggled. “Put me down.”
“No.”
She gripped the door frame. “I’m your male servant. Put me down.”
She was right of course. He settled her to her feet and straightened her coats. The lobby clerk was diverted dealing with Llewellyn. Charley’s neck rippled with a sense of danger. Llewellyn had not wanted them in his room for a reason. They had interrupted a visitor.
“Hurry, then.”
But as they reached the bottom step of the stairs he froze, and Gracie collided into him with anoof.
A woman had stopped in front of the carriage, eyes wide. He bowed. She dipped her chin. The dark-clad maid trailing her took a few steps back. Gracie moved up next to him and the lady’s eyes narrowed. Her lips trembled, but she quickly firmed them.
“Mr. Everly.” Again, the slight dip of the head.
“Duquesa. As lovely as ever.” It was true. Her blue gown and the hat that covered her fair hair matched her eyes perfectly. Her gaze traveled to the hotel behind them and returned to the servant next to him. The Duquesa would recognize the woman in a man’s coat. A rival—though theirs had never been that sort of arrangement.
And never mind how hard his heart pounded—he was having none of that nonsense. His pretended interlude with her was over. Father could find someone else to run messages.
“We have not seen you at any of the fêtes, Mr. Everly. Surely you will be at tomorrow night’s diplomatic ball. I would be bold and claim a dance with you.”
“It would be my great pleasure.” He bowed again. He heard voices behind them, and spotted two men approaching. He recognized them as the Duquesa’s men, paid to follow discreetly.
It was what lay behind in the hotel that worried him, and they needed to leave. “My father has returned from Bath, and I must hasten to meet with him. If you will excuse me, I shall wish you a good day. It has been a pleasure to see you again.”
He skirted around her, climbed into the carriage and yanked Gracie in behind him, settling her onto the seat across from him. “Were you planning another timely swoon?”
She glared back and pleasure sparked through him. She was jealous.
“Not an entirely false one. I cannot abide small spaces.”
“How ever did you survive the sea journey?”
“I had Reina to care for. And whenever I could, I went up on deck for the fresh air. So, it is true, Charley.”
“What is true?”
“That was one of your women, no less than the famous Duquesa. Youarea rakehell. A despoiler of women.”
“What if it were true, Gracie? Would you throw me over for another man? It appears Captain Llewellyn is eligible now.”
She looked out the window, clearly examining the idea.
He steeled himself and went on. “He is handsome, virile, your father’s friend. And money is not an issue, since you will bring plenty to any greedy husband’s coffers. And I do believe he wants you, as would any man with eyes in his head.”
