A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 135 - Hundred And Thirty Five

Carcel chuckled. It was a deep, confident sound that filled the breakfast room with a sense of absolute security. He picked up his coffee cup and took a relaxed sip.

"Vance has worked on much harder things than this," Carcel assured him. "Finding a dismissed maid who was accused of stealing? It would be a piece of cake. A woman like that leaves a trail, especially if she was paid off to disappear."

Carcel set his cup down and looked around the table. He became the commanding Duke Carleton once more.

"I am leaving for London after breakfast," Carcel announced, mapping out the plan. "I will go directly to Vance’s office. You will get the location by evening, Rowan. A fast rider will bring the message to Hamilton House."

Carcel looked directly at Rowan. "So, you will have to start preparing for your departure tomorrow morning. The moment you have the address, you must ride out and find her."

Rowan nodded firmly. "I will be ready."

Ines smoothed her napkin on her lap. She looked at the serious faces of the men and decided she needed to do her part as well.

"I will write to the Duchess of Hastings today," Ines spoke up, her voice clear and determined. "I will ask her very specific questions about Lady Celine’s first season three years ago. I will wait for her response."

Ines offered a small, wicked smile.

"In the meantime," Ines added, "I will start the preparations for the Hamilton ball. I will order the flowers and hire the musicians. We must keep up appearances. Lord Farrington must believe his trap is working perfectly, right up until the very second we spring ours."

Rowan looked at his clever sister, his resourceful aunt, and his loyal brother-in-law. He then looked at Delaney, who was watching them all with quiet, fierce support. He had a family of brilliant, dangerous fighters on his side. Lord Farrington did not stand a chance.

Rowan nodded in deep satisfaction. The dark weight that had ruined his appetite the day before was completely gone. He felt hungry for the first time in days.

He gestured with his large hand to the silver platters of food arranged in the center of the table.

"Let’s eat," Rowan commanded cheerfully.

The mood in the breakfast room instantly lifted. The heavy tension evaporated, replaced by the clatter of silverware against fine china and the comfortable energy of a family with a solid plan. They passed the eggs, the toasted bread, and the thick slices of ham. They ate with purpose.

They finished their breakfast, and as soon as the last drops of tea were gone, everyone went to do exactly what they were supposed to do.

Carcel stood up from the table. Before he left for the dangerous streets of London, he went to the nursery to greet little Harry goodbye.

The chubby toddler was sitting on the nursery floor, playing with a wooden block. Carcel scooped the boy up into his large arms. He hugged his son tightly to his chest, burying his face in the child’s soft, sweet-smelling hair. He kissed the boy’s cheek repeatedly until Harry let out a loud, happy squeal of laughter.

Carcel set the boy back down gently. He turned and walked out into the grand hallway.

Ines was waiting for him near the front doors.

Carcel did not say a word. He simply reached out, wrapped his strong arm around his wife’s narrow waist, and pulled her flush against his chest. He dipped his head and gave his wife a deep, passionate, completely scandalous kiss right there in the open foyer.

Ines sighed softly against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

When they finally broke apart, Carcel offered her a wicked grin, tapped his hat onto his head, and walked out the front doors to his waiting horse.

Aunt Margery watched the display with a highly amused smile. She adjusted the ruffled sleeves of her bright yellow dress, picked up Fifi the poodle, and went up the stairs to her room to begin drafting a very long, very clever letter to Lady Posie.

Rowan was heading for the stables.

He needed to inspect his fastest horse. He needed to make sure his riding gear was in perfect condition. If Carcel’s messenger arrived by evening, Rowan planned to ride out at the first light of dawn.

He walked out the heavy side doors of the manor. The morning air was crisp and fresh. He strode across the stone courtyard, his long legs eating up the distance quickly. His mind was entirely focused on the plan. He was calculating travel times, imagining the questions he would ask the dismissed maid, and planning exactly how he would destroy Lord Farrington.

Suddenly, he felt a warm, firm pressure on his right hand.

Delaney held his hand.

Her small, soft fingers wrapped tightly around his large, calloused ones. She pulled back slightly, causing him to stop abruptly in the middle of the courtyard.

Rowan blinked, startled out of his deep thoughts. He turned around.

Delaney was standing right behind him. The cool morning wind teased the loose strands of her dark hair, blowing them gently across her pale cheeks. She was not wearing her woolen shawl, and she looked small against the vast, gray stone of the Hamilton stables.

But her hazel eyes did not look small. They looked fierce and completely determined.

Rowan looked down at their joined hands. He did not pull away. He gently turned his hand over, tangling his fingers with hers, holding her hand securely in return. He loved the simple, bold way she reached for him.

"Del," Rowan said softly, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rumble. "You should be inside. It is cold out here."

Delaney looked down at their interwined hands and her eyes widened in panic, looking around to make sure no one saw them. She quickly let go of his hand, remembering where they are and took a step back, tilting her head up to meet his eyes squarely, trying to regain her composure.

She did not ask for permission. She did not phrase it as a polite suggestion.

"I want to go with you tomorrow," Delaney stated clearly.