A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 124 - Hundred And Twenty Four

Carcel gently pulled back from his wife’s embrace. He kept one hand resting warmly on her waist. He looked around the drawing room, his eyes searching.

"Where is my boy?" Carcel asked. His voice softened even more at the mention of his young son. "I have a wooden toy horse for him in my trunk."

Ines smiled, carefully closing the signed book and holding it to her chest.

"He’s sleeping," Ines replied softly. "He had a very busy morning. He had a large breakfast, played with Edith in the garden for two hours, chased a butterfly, and then finally slept. He was exhausted."

Carcel nodded in approval. A proud, fatherly smile touched his lips.

"As he should," Carcel said. "A growing boy needs his rest after a hard day of play."

Just as the words left his mouth, the heavy doors of the drawing room opened wider.

Rowan stepped into the room.

The Duke of Ford looked drastically different from the relaxed, happy man standing with his wife. Rowan was dressed in a dark, severe coat. His jaw was locked tight. His broad shoulders were stiff with tension. His bright brown eyes were sharp and completely alert.

He walked directly across the room toward his brother-in-law.

When Rowan reached them, he raised his hand and firmly clapped Carcel’s back. It was a heavy, solid slap of greeting between two strong men.

"Welcome back," Rowan said. His voice was deep, steady, but holding a tight edge of underlying urgency.

Carcel turned. He saw the serious expression on Rowan’s face. He instantly understood that playtime was over. The loving husband retreated, and the sharp Duke of Carleton took his place.

Carcel reached out and hugged Rowan. It was a brief, strong embrace.

"I tried to be early enough," Carcel said quietly as they pulled apart. His eyes met Rowan’s, carrying a silent, heavy message. I found what you asked for. I have the proof.

Rowan understood the look perfectly. He felt a massive surge of relief, followed immediately by a wave of cold determination.

"Indeed," Rowan replied simply.

He did not want to discuss the details here, in the open drawing room, where the servants or the women could hear the dangerous truth. He had decided to tell them after his meeting with Carcel.

Rowan turned to Ines. He offered her a stiff, apologetic bow.

"Forgive me, sister," Rowan said smoothly, though he was not really asking for permission. "But I will have to steal your husband for some minutes."

Ines frowned slightly. She pulled the book tighter to her chest. She had just gotten him back. "Rowan, he just arrived. He is covered in dust and needs a cup of tea."

"We have a lot to talk about," Rowan insisted. His voice left absolutely no room for argument.

He looked at Carcel. "Because it is urgent."

Carcel gave his wife a quick, apologetic look. He gently squeezed her waist one last time. "I will be back shortly, my love. Wait for me."

Before Ines could open her mouth to protest again, Rowan turned on his heel. He walked quickly toward the door. Carcel followed right behind him, his long strides matching Rowan’s.

The two Dukes walked out of the drawing room together, the heavy wooden doors shutting firmly behind them.

The room was suddenly very quiet. The warm, joyful energy that Carcel had brought into the room was completely gone, replaced by a lingering sense of mystery and serious tension.

Ines stood in the center of the rug, staring at the closed doors. She let out a small, frustrated sigh.

"Men," Ines muttered under her breath. "They always have some grand, secret business to discuss the moment they arrive. It’s not like I don’t know what you two want to discuss about."

From the sofa near the fireplace, Aunt Margery cleared her throat loudly.

The older woman had watched the entire scene with her usual sharp eyes. She had seen the way Rowan looked. She knew her nephew well enough to know that whatever he was discussing with Carcel was not simply about the weather or the price of wheat. It was something deeply important.

But Aunt Margery also knew that worrying would not solve anything.

She adjusted her silk turban and carefully placed Fifi the poodle onto the soft velvet cushion beside her.

"Well," Aunt Margery spoke, her loud, cheerful voice breaking the silence in the room. She turned to Ines. "Let them have their secret talks in the study. We do not need them to enjoy our afternoon."

Aunt Margery gestured toward the small, empty tables near the window.

"Perhaps," Aunt Margery suggested, "we should have some tea. A strong cup of Earl Grey is exactly what is needed right now."

Ines finally pulled her eyes away from the door. She looked down at the beautiful book in her hands. A small smile returned to her face.

"You are right, Aunt Margery," Ines agreed. "Tea sounds wonderful. I shall ring for Mr. Simmons."

Aunt Margery turned her head. She looked across the room at the quiet woman sitting in the velvet armchair.

"Join us, Miss Kingsley," Aunt Margery called out warmly. She offered a kind, encouraging smile. "You look as though you could use a cup of tea yourself. And I want to hear your thoughts on the new floral arrangements for the ball."

Delaney blinked, startled out of her own deep thoughts. She had been worrying about what Carcel had found in the city.

But looking at Aunt Margery’s welcoming face, and seeing Ines happily holding her new book, Delaney felt a sense of belonging that she rarely experienced. They were including her. They were treating her like family.

Delaney stood up slowly from her chair. She smoothed the front of her plain dress.

"Thank you, my lady," Delaney replied. Her voice was steady and polite. "I would be honored to join you."

She walked across the room to sit with the two noble women. While the men locked themselves away in the study to fight the monsters in the dark, the women gathered by the light of the window, pouring tea and discussing about the coming ball.