Page 7 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
Chapter 3
Graciela pulledher thin dressing gown tighter around her and shivered.
The brush stroking through her hair stopped. “You tremble. It was less chilled in the nursery. Let us go and join Juan and Reina there.”
Her maid’s rapid Spanish touched her heart as the clipped English of her guardians never could.
“No wonder your papa left this country.There is not enough fuel in all of the universe to take the chill from this place.”
And we would not be allowed to burn it even if we could find some. She had thought the absence of coal was because of Lord Kingsley’s financial difficulties, but since her father’s disappearance several weeks earlier, money had started to flow into this house.
Her money. None of it had been spent to warm her bedchamber. Not even during the passage through the Straits of Magellan had she felt this cold.
“Where is your other guardian?” the servant asked. “Why does he not come to help you?”
She had asked only once about Lord Farnsworth, the other trustee designated by her father. The beatings had started after that.
“I am sorry Papa has put you and Juan through this, Francisca.”
The tortoiseshell brush clacked onto the scarred dressing table, the large vase of flowers there jumping and rattling. Wiry arms came around her and tugged her to a thin chest, Francisca’s thin bones pressed against her back. “Juan and I made a promise, and we would never leave you or Reina. We will not leave you to the mercy of this lord and his witch of a wife, thattlahuelpuchi. She will not gobble Reina for dinner when the moon is full. We will suffer through this together. You must leave their house soon, before she turns her stick on the little one. I know he is not a desirable man, but I have seen many girls survive bad spouses. We will be with you.”
“I will not marry him. And if I did, there is no guarantee he would not send you and Reina away.”
The older woman tensed. Francisca and her husband Juan had been with her since before she could remember. Uncertain of theinglésher mother was marrying, they had come along with the new bride, two proudmeztisoswho would never be servile enough for aristocrats of any country. Papa had always understood them and their loyalty. Papa was one of a kind.
“How will we get away, then, and where will we go?”
A distant murmur in the hallway raised an alarm within her.
Graciela gripped both of the maid’s hands. “Did you come down in time to see the man who carried me into the parlor?”
Francisca’s eyes narrowed. “Who is this man to you?”
The voices drew closer. Soon the key would click within the lock. “He will help us. Listen. His father is Lord Shaldon. Papa said we could trust him. Lord Shaldon who has a grand house near Berkeley Square. Remember. Say it.”
Francisca glanced to the door. “Lord Shaldon. Berkeley Square.”
“Papa said he will help us. Papa said go to him if ever I have need.”
Francisca’s eyes glinted and her mouth set in the fierce line of herYaquiwarrior forebears. “Shaldon. Berkley Square.”
“Tell the servants here that Lord Kingsley ordered you, Juan, and Reina away, tonight, and then leave with the clothes on your back. Wrap Reina in her shawl so she will be comforted and sleep, and go, before they realize you are escaping.”
She saw the maid’s hesitation.
“They will throw Reina into the street. You must save her.” The key slipped the lock and she rushed on. “Tell Juan he must get her away. The streets are not safe for a child alone. Do whatever it takes to make him go with you.”
The door flew open and Lord Kingsley’s bulk filled the doorway of her bedchamber.
He had come himself this time. Graciela shot to her feet. “How dare you.”
Her voice shook and she hated it. Papa would not be so weak. It was the fault of resorting to womanly devices, fainting when she should fight.
But no, hadn’t Papa outrun his enemies when his powder was low and the sickness was high? On several occasions he’d even run up a flag that was not his own.
But he had done it with strength, and a plan, and never with sniveling.
“How dare I?” Kingsley crossed the room in two strides. She saw his lady behind him, still in her green gown. They’d neither of them changed. And the lady held the dreaded cane.
