A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 127 - Hundred And Twenty Seven

"What about Delaney?" Rowan asked.

The question left his lips before he could stop it. The name sounded entirely natural, slipping out with a rough, protective edge. He leaned forward in his large leather chair, his eyes fixed instantly on his brother-in-law.

Carcel raised a dark, perfectly shaped brow. He looked at Rowan with sharp, calculating eyes.

"Delaney?" Carcel repeated. The single word hung in the quiet air, heavy with unspoken questions. Dukes did not call their hired employees by their first names. They certainly did not speak those names with such raw, undisguised concern.

Rowan realized his mistake immediately. He felt a sudden, faint flush of heat rise to his neck. He quickly sat back in his chair and adjusted his collar.

He cleared his throat. The sound was stiff and formal.

"Miss Kingsley," Rowan corrected himself smoothly, forcing his face back into an emotionless, aristocratic mask. "What did your investigator find that concerns Miss Kingsley?"

Carcel did not push the issue of the name. He simply stared at Rowan for a moment longer before nodding slowly. He leaned back in his own chair, crossing one long leg over the other. The serious, dark mood returned to his handsome face.

"Lord Hawksley is related to the scandal of twenty years ago," Carcel replied. His voice was very low and very steady. "It was called the royal silk scam. Or, in the inner circles of the House of Lords, the Oakridge case as it is popularly known."

Rowan narrowed his eyes. He remembered hearing faint whispers of the Oakridge case when he was a very young man. It had been a massive disaster. A scheme involving forged ledgers, stolen shipments of expensive imported silk meant for the Crown, and a terrible carriage accident that had conveniently silenced the main suspect. It was a dark stain on the history of the nobility.

"He and Baron Kingsley were partners," Carcel continued, his voice completely devoid of any emotion. He delivered the facts coldly. "They invested in the silk trade together. The Queen chose to make them her main suppliers but something went wrong. The silks were compromised. They were produced with unhealthy dyes. They charged more for a product that could harm the Crown. When the Crown’s investigators closed in on the deception, all the forged documents pointed directly to the Baron. Some evidence suggested he committed embezzlement but that was ruled out later. Hawksley walked away clean, keeping his own fortune and his reputation entirely safe."

Carcel paused. He looked at Rowan, making sure the Duke understood the full weight of his next words.

"Baron Kingsley is Miss Kingsley’s father," Carcel said softly.

Rowan’s eyes widened in sheer, absolute shock. His breath caught in his throat. He stared blankly at the dark wooden panels of his desk, but he was not seeing the wood. His mind was racing, connecting a dozen different puzzle pieces that had confused him for weeks.

He remembered the day Lord Hawksley had come to Hamilton House. He remembered walking into the Delaney’s room and finding Delaney hiding in the corner of the room. He remembered how she had looked. She had been trembling violently, her face as pale as a ghost, her hazel eyes wide with a pure, unadulterated terror that had haunted him ever since. She had looked like a person staring directly at a monster.

Rowan’s hands slowly curled into tight fists on his lap. The puzzle was finally complete, and the picture it formed was incredibly ugly.

He murmured to himself, his voice a low, dangerous whisper that vibrated with barely contained fury.

"So that is why she’s afraid of Lord Hawksley," Rowan breathed out. He closed his eyes, a deep, painful ache blooming in his chest. "That devil of a man is connected to her parents’ death."

The carriage accident in the rain. The sudden, tragic death of Arthur and Genevieve Kingsley. The absolute ruin of their young daughter. Hawksley had not just been a business partner; he had been the architect of their destruction. He had framed the Baron and left a young Delaney to face the harsh, cruel world entirely alone.

Across the desk, Carcel was completely confused.

He had heard what Rowan uttered. He had sat quietly and searched Rowan’s face for any other reaction. He had expected shock. He had expected anger over the deception. He had fully expected the proud Duke of Ford to be furious that he had unknowingly hired a disgraced woman to live under his roof.

But there was none of that. There was only a deep, profound sorrow, mixed with a violent anger directed entirely at Lord Hawksley.

Carcel tilted his head to the side. He frowned slightly.

"Aren’t you surprised?" Carcel asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Rowan opened his eyes. The brown depths were completely cold, shining with a deadly, protective fire.

"I am," Rowan replied simply. He uncurled his fists and placed his large hands flat on the desk. "I never thought Lord Hawksley would be connected to her parents. It explains her fear. It explains why she tried to hide from him."

Carcel blinked. He stared at his brother-in-law, genuinely baffled.

"Aren’t you surprised your employee is a noblewoman whose family allegedly defrauded the Crown?" Carcel pressed, leaning forward. "Rowan, she kept you in the dark. She came into your home under the guise of a working-class matchmaker. She hid her true identity, and she carries a scandal that could ruin anyone associated with her."

Rowan looked at Carcel. The dark, protective fire in his eyes did not waver. In fact, a small, dismissive sigh escaped his lips.

"Oh, that," Rowan replied casually, waving a hand in the air as if a ruined barony was nothing more than a spilled cup of tea. "I’ve known for a while."

Carcel actually choked on his breath. He sat up completely straight, his dark eyes wide.

"What?" Carcel asked, his voice rising in sheer disbelief.

"I investigated her," Rowan explained smoothly. He leaned back in his leather chair, looking perfectly calm. "The moment I hired her, I sent my own men to look into her background. I knew she was Delaney Kingsley, the daughter of the late Baron Kingsley, within a week of her arrival." 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

Carcel stared at him. "And you said nothing?"

"There was no need," Rowan replied. "She was doing her job perfectly. Her past did not affect her ability to find me a wife. Besides, even Aunt Margery knows. She did her own investigation."

Carcel let out a bark of surprised laughter. He shook his head slowly.

"Of course Aunt Margery knows," Carcel muttered, rubbing his forehead. "That woman has more spies in London than the Crown itself. But Rowan, to keep a disgraced noblewoman in your house... the risk to your reputation is massive."

"I do not care about the risk," Rowan said. His voice was suddenly very quiet, and very heavy.

All the armor fell away from Rowan. The confident Duke vanished. He slumped slightly into his large leather seat. The broad, strong shoulders that carried the weight of the Hamilton estate bowed forward.

Rowan looked down at his own hands. He thought of Delaney. He thought of her wearing plain, grey dresses to hide her beauty. He thought of her strict rules, her careful manners, and the fierce, independent walls she had built around her heart just to survive the cruel streets of London after losing everything.

"She must have suffered a lot," Rowan muttered to himself.

The words were spoken so softly, filled with such deep, profound heartbreak, that the quiet study seemed to echo with the sound. He felt a terrible, sharp sting of guilt for ever treating her harshly, for not respecting her enough when she was carrying the weight of the world on her small shoulders.

Carcel heard the whispered words clearly.

The Duke of Carleton watched his brother-in-law’s face. He saw the naked vulnerability. He saw the deep, undeniable pain in Rowan’s eyes that only came when a man cared for someone far more than he cared for himself.

The confusion completely left Carcel’s face. A slow, knowing understanding washed over him.

Carcel chuckled. It was a warm, rich, brotherly sound that filled the dark corners of the study.

"You have feelings for her," He said.

It was not a question. It was a solid, undeniable statement of fact.

Rowan snapped his head up. He blinked rapidly, his mask trying desperately to fall back into place.

"Pardon?" Rowan asked, his voice stiffening slightly.

Carcel did not back down. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked directly into Rowan’s eyes, refusing to let the proud Duke hide behind his title or his duty any longer.

"You heard me perfectly well," Carcel said, a fond smile touching his lips. "You are sitting here, facing a blackmail contract that demands a million pounds and a forced marriage, and all you care about is the suffering of your hired matchmaker. You have fallen for her, haven’t you?"

The study went completely silent.

Rowan stared at Carcel. He thought about denying it. He thought about offering a polite excuse about an employer’s duty of care.

But then, he remembered the bedroom upstairs. He remembered the soft, willing taste of her mouth. He remembered the way she had looked at him, not as a title, but as a man. He remembered how right she felt in his arms, and how completely empty his life had been before she walked into his drawing room and told him his cravat was crooked.

The denial died on his tongue.

A slow, wicked, entirely confident smirk spread across Rowan’s face. The Golden Duke returned, but this time, he was not fighting for his estate. He was fighting for his heart.

"What do you think?" Rowan asked smoothly. His eyes sparkled with a bold, daring light.

Carcel was stunned. He sat back in his chair, his mouth parting slightly in surprise. He had expected Rowan to argue. He had expected Rowan to claim duty and honor above all else, just as he always did. To see the strict, rule-following Duke of Ford openly admit to a scandalous, impossible romance was a shock.

Carcel let out a long breath. "Rowan... the rules of society... her family’s ruin..."

"Hang society," Rowan interrupted. His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

Rowan sat up straight. He planted his hands firmly on the desk. He looked at the terrible marriage contract lying between them, and then he looked back at Carcel. There was absolutely no hesitation in his face, no fear, and no doubt.

Rowan continued, his voice ringing with the absolute, unbreakable authority of a man who had finally made up his mind.

"After I have sorted out this contract," He declared, his words echoing like a sacred vow in the quiet room, "I will look into her family scandal and find a way to marry her."