A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 205 - Two Hundred And Five

" Right away, Your Grace." Mr. Simmons said as he bowed his head deeply, his crisp white hair catching the morning light as he backed away from the large desk. He turned smoothly on his heel and left the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

The moment the door was completely closed, the tense, serious atmosphere in the study shattered entirely.

Rowan stood up from his leather chair. He did not simply rise; he moved with a sudden, bursting energy that completely ignored the dull ache and the healing wound on his head. A bright, brilliant smile broke across his face, reaching all the way to his vivid brown eyes.

He walked around the edge of the desk and went straight toward his brother-in-law.

Before Carcel could even ask what was happening, Rowan wrapped his large arms around the Duke of a Carleton. He hugged Carcel with pure, unadulterated happiness, hitting his back with soft, rhythmic taps.

Carcel’s eyes widened in profound surprise but quickly understood the sheer magnitude of the relief coursing through Rowan’s veins.

Carcel smiled warmly and patted Rowan’s shoulder in return.

"Carcel," Rowan breathed out, pulling back from the embrace. His voice was thick with deep gratitude and a soaring sense of hope. "Fate is really on our side."

Carcel smoothed the lapels of his dark coat, his eyes shining with shared victory. "It appears so. Shall we go meet this mysterious woman?"

"Yes," Rowan nodded firmly, his demeanor shifting back to a commanding focus. "Immediately." 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Rowan turned and walked briskly out of the study. He went downstairs, his long legs taking the marble steps two at a time. Carcel followed closely behind him, keeping pace as they moved through the grand, quiet halls of Hamilton House.

They walked toward the drawing room at the front of the manor. As they turned the corner, Rowan slowed his steps.

He saw his sister, Ines, and his aunt, Lady Margery, standing together just outside the closed double doors of the drawing room. They were whispering to each other, their faces drawn tight with deep concern. Ines was wringing her hands in the folds of her silk day dress, a clear sign of her nervous agitation.

Rowan stopped in front of them. He looked at his family, his thick brows drawing together in a deep frown of confusion.

"What happened?" Rowan asked, keeping his voice low so the sound would not carry through the wooden doors. "Why are you standing out here?"

Aunt Margery leaned heavily on her silver-handled walking stick. She looked up at her tall nephew, letting out a soft, troubled sigh.

"The poor woman is terrified, Rowan," Aunt Margery replied, her voice filled with gentle pity. "When Simmons brought her into the house, she saw the grandeur of the room and nearly fainted from fright. Ines and I tried to offer her tea and comfort her, but she refuses to speak a single word to us."

Rowan frowned deeper. "Why?"

"She is looking for the young lady she met at her house," Aunt Margery explained quietly. "She says she will not trust anyone else. She wants to only speak to Delaney."

Rowan understood instantly. A week ago, Delaney had spoken to the young woman and offered her a safe address. To a working-class woman like Flora, the wealthy lords and ladies of the Ton were often dangerous, cruel people. Delaney was her only anchor of trust in this massive, intimidating house.

"I see," Rowan replied, his voice softening with understanding. He reached out and gently squeezed his sister’s shoulder to reassure her. "I will reason with her. Do not worry."

"Be gentle, brother," Ines whispered, her hazel eyes filled with warning. "She looks as though she might bolt out the front door at any moment."

Rowan nodded. He placed his large hand on the polished brass handle of the drawing room door. He turned it slowly and pushed the door open, stepping inside alone. He left Carcel, Ines, and Aunt Margery waiting in the quiet hallway.

He closed the door softly behind him.

The drawing room was a airy space filled with expensive velvet sofas, mirrors, and delicate porcelain vases. Sitting on the very edge of the largest sofa was Miss Flora.

She was wearing a faded gray wool cloak that had seen many years of harsh London weather. Her hair was tucked neatly beneath a plain bonnet. When she heard the door click shut, she jumped slightly.

Flora was nervously fiddling with the rough fabric of her skirt, twisting the gray wool tightly between her wrinkled fingers. Her eyes darted around the opulent room like a trapped bird.

When she saw Rowan come in, her breathing quickened. She saw a tall, incredibly imposing man wearing fine clothes, with a white medical bandage wrapped around his head. He looked exactly like the dangerous, powerful noblemen she had spent her life avoiding. The same man who was demanding answers from her.

Flora stood up quickly, her knees trembling.

"I... I want to only speak to the woman who gave me the address," Flora said, her voice shaking badly. She took a small step backward, putting the sofa between them. "The young lady with the dark hair. I will not speak to anyone else."

Rowan stopped moving. He did not walk any closer. He stood near the door, keeping his hands relaxed at his sides to show he meant no harm.

He could see the absolute, raw fear shining in her eyes. He knew that pushing her or demanding answers like he did before would only make her close up forever.

Rowan spoke softly. He deliberately lowered the deep, commanding tone of his voice, making it as gentle and comforting as he possibly could. He tried not to add more fear to the weary woman.

"She is not here," Rowan explained kindly, offering a warm, reassuring smile. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Miss Flora."

Flora’s face fell. Her grip on her skirt tightened. "Where is she? Did something happen to her?"

"No, no, she is perfectly well," Rowan assured her quickly, wanting to ease her worry. He chose his words with extreme care, protecting Delaney’s current mission at the Kingsley estate. "She had to go away to stay safe. She had family issues to settle in the country."

Flora blinked, studying the man before her. She looked at his kind brown eyes, searching for any sign of a lie.

"But you can tell me anything, if you want to," Rowan offered gently. He took one slow, non-threatening step forward. "My name is Rowan. Rowan Hamilton. I am the Duke of Ford. I am the man who lives in this house, and I am the man who intends to marry the young woman you met. I am sorry for my behavior the last time we met. If you trusted her, I swear upon my honor, you can trust me."