A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 129 - Hundred And Twenty Nine

Inside the drawing room, the atmosphere was bright, warm, and wonderfully peaceful. The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows. Ines was sitting on a velvet sofa, eagerly reading her newly signed romance novel. Aunt Margery was reclining in her armchair, sipping Earl Grey tea from a delicate china cup while softly stroking Fifi’s curly fur.

Delaney was sitting quietly near the window. She looked up immediately when Rowan entered. Her hazel eyes met his brown ones, offering a silent, steady look of encouragement.

Rowan drew in a deep breath. He walked to the center of the rug. Carcel walked over to sit beside his wife, placing a comforting hand on Ines’s shoulder.

"May I have your attention, please," Rowan spoke. His voice was loud, clear, and carried a heavy, formal weight.

Ines lowered her book, frowning at her brother’s serious tone. Aunt Margery stopped petting the dog. Delaney sat perfectly still, her hands folded tightly in her lap.

Rowan looked at the women staring back at him. He held up the folded parchment papers in his hand.

"I have a confession to make," Rowan began, his voice steady despite the nervous twisting in his stomach. "The courtship with Lady Celine Farrington is not what it appears to be. It is not a choice. It is a trap."

He took another breath and laid the papers down on the low tea table in the center of the room.

Rowan broke the news of the contract to everyone.

He explained everything in clear, simple terms. He told them about the Basingstoke marsh lands. He told them about the railway consortium meeting. He explained how Lord Hawksley had buried a terrible addendum deep within the legal documents. Finally, he revealed the crushing penalty clause.

"If I do not marry Lady Celine Farrington by the end of this month," Rowan finished, his voice dropping low with shame, "the Hamilton estate will forfeit one million pounds to the consortium. It would ruin us. I am legally bound to marry her."

Rowan stopped speaking. He stood tall, dropping his hands to his sides, fully preparing himself for the explosion.

He expected Ines to gasp in horror. He expected her to throw her book across the room and shout about the betrayal. He fully expected Aunt Margery to drop her teacup, clutch her pearls, and perhaps even faint onto the velvet cushions from the sheer scandal of it all.

He braced his broad shoulders, waiting for the storm of female panic and outrage.

He waited.

And he waited.

To his absolute surprise, there wasn’t any reaction.

The drawing room remained completely, utterly silent. The only sound was the soft ticking of the mantel clock and the gentle clinking of Aunt Margery’s silver spoon as she calmly stirred a lump of sugar into her tea.

Ines merely blinked, looking from the papers on the table to her brother’s tense face. She did not look horrified. She simply looked thoughtful.

Rowan frowned deeply, highly confused by the total lack of hysterics. He looked at Carcel, who shrugged his broad shoulders in equal confusion. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Delaney was also surprised. She looked at Aunt Margery, fully expecting the older woman to be furious that the grand Hamilton name had been caught in a merchant’s trap. But Aunt Margery looked perfectly serene.

She took a slow, elegant sip of her tea and set the delicate china cup down on its saucer. She reached out with her wrinkled hand, patting Fifi’s fur with slow, rhythmic strokes.

"I know," Aunt Margery spoke. Her loud, confident voice cut through the quiet room with absolute ease.

She did not look shocked. She looked incredibly pleased with herself.

"I have known for a while," Aunt Margery added smoothly, adjusting her spectacles on her nose.

Rowan froze completely. The breath stopped in his lungs. He stared at his elderly aunt as if she had just grown a second head.

"What?" Rowan choked out. His voice was a harsh, breathless rasp. He took a stunned step forward. "You knew? How could you possibly know? I signed the papers in secret. The solicitor only just sent the warning."

Aunt Margery let out a soft, highly amused chuckle. She looked at her nephew with a mixture of fond pity and sharp intelligence.

"Rowan, my dear boy," Aunt Margery replied, her tone matching a teacher speaking to a very slow student. "I may be old but I am not blind."

She gestured with her silver spoon toward the empty space where Lady Farrington had sat that very morning.

"With the way Lady Farrington was acting greedy," Aunt Margery explained calmly, "I had to suspect the truth."

"Greedy?" Rowan asked, his mind spinning.

"Oh, absolutely ravenous," Aunt Margery corrected, waving her hand in the air. "She demanded the Hamilton silk runners for the church aisle. She insisted on imported French fruits for the breakfast. She dictated the placement of the floral arrangements in our own ballroom. She walked through this house as if she already owned the very bricks!"

Aunt Margery leaned forward, her sharp eyes fixing directly on Rowan.

"A mother trying to secure a highly sought-after Duke for her daughter is usually polite, nervous, and accommodating," Aunt Margery noted wisely. "She tries to please the family. But Lady Farrington was none of those things. She was arrogant. She made demands."

She took another slow, deliberate sip of her tea.

"I had to ask myself," Aunt Margery continued, placing the cup down again, "what actually gave her the guts to make such bizarre requests concerning a wedding that hasn’t even had a formal engagement yet?"

Rowan swallowed hard. The logic was flawless, and he felt incredibly foolish for not seeing it himself.

"A woman only acts with that kind of bold arrogance when she holds a winning hand," Aunt Margery stated simply. "She knew you could not refuse her because you were trapped."

Aunt Margery sat back against the velvet cushions. She stroked Fifi’s head, looking at her large and utterly defeated nephew.

"I know how trapped you are, Rowan," Aunt Margery said softly.

Then, a slow, incredibly wicked, and highly triumphant smirk spread across the old woman’s wrinkled face. She was thoroughly enjoying the fact that she was ten steps ahead of him.

She lifted her finger and pointed it directly at him.

"You are in a way deeper pit than a rabbit hole," Aunt Margery declared.

She did not rush the words. To ensure maximum dramatic effect, and to thoroughly poke at his bruised pride, she said the final phrase very slowly, breaking it down piece by piece.

She said it syllable by syllable.

"A way. Deep-er. Pit. Than. A. Rab-bit. Hole."

The drawing room fell completely silent once again.

Rowan just stood there.

His broad shoulders were slumped. His hands hung loosely by his sides. His mouth was parted slightly in pure shock. He was entirely dumbfounded.

He had spent days carrying a terrible, secret burden, agonizing over how his failure would destroy his family. He had braced himself for tears and screaming.

Instead, he found out that his elderly aunt had deduced the entire blackmail plot simply by watching a woman plan an extravagant wedding.