A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 163 - Hundred And Sixty Three

Inside his study, Lord Hawksley paced the length of the carpet. His expensive leather boots made a heavy, angry sound against the floorboards. His hands shook slightly as he poured himself a glass of brandy. He drank it in one fast swallow, but the strong alcohol did nothing to calm his racing heart.

He had seen her.

Delaney Kingsley. The woman he has been looking for.

Lord Hawksley set the empty glass down hard on his desk. He walked over to his heavy wooden chair and sat down. He grabbed a piece of thick, white parchment and pulled his inkwell closer. He picked up a sharp quill.

If the Duke of Hamilton woke up, and if Delaney told the Duke about the Oakridge case and her father’s stolen money, Hawksley would hang. The Crown did not forgive treason, and the Duke of Ford had the power to reopen the twenty-year-old case.

Hawksley knew he had to remove Delaney from that house immediately. He could not walk in and drag her out himself; he had no legal right to her. But there was one man who did.

He dipped his quill into the dark black ink and began to write a letter to Delaney’s uncle, Cole Kingsley. Cole was a greedy, cruel man who had happily taken Hawksley’s money three years ago in exchange for his niece.

The quill scratched loudly against the paper.

To Mr. Cole Kingsley,

I write to you with urgent and serious news. The property you promised me three years ago has finally been found. I know where Delaney is. She is currently hiding in London, living under the roof of the Duke of Ford in Mayfair. As her uncle and her legal guardian, it is your duty to collect your runaway ward. You took my money, Kingsley. I expect you to deliver what I paid for. Come to London immediately. Bring your legal papers. Go to Hamilton House and claim your niece before she ruins both of our lives. Do not fail me.

Hawksley.

He signed his name with a sharp, violent stroke. He folded the parchment quickly, not caring that the ink was barely dry. He melted a large drop of dark red wax and pressed his heavy metal seal into it.

He rang a small silver bell on his desk. A servant entered the room a moment later.

"Take this to the fastest rider we have," Lord Hawksley ordered, shoving the letter into the servant’s hand. "Tell him to ride to the Kingsley estate without stopping. It must be delivered to Cole Kingsley by tomorrow morning."

The servant bowed and hurried away.

Hawksley leaned back in his chair, breathing heavily. He had set the trap. Now, he just had to wait for the uncle to arrive and drag the girl away into his arms.

Later that afternoon, the heavy front doors of Hamilton House opened.

Carcel stepped into the grand foyer. He wore a dark, heavy travel coat. His boots were dusty from riding through the city streets. He and his investigator, Vance, had spent the last four days turning London upside down, looking for any legal papers or hidden ledgers related to the Farrington and Kingsley families.

He handed his hat and gloves to a waiting footman.

Before he could even unbutton his heavy coat, Ines appeared at the top of the grand staircase.

When she saw her husband, the strong, brave mask she had worn all day completely slipped. She lifted the front of her silk dress and hurried down the stairs.

"Carcel," she breathed out.

Ines went straight to him. Carcel opened his arms, and she stepped right into them. He wrapped his strong arms securely around her waist, pulling her close. He hugged her tightly. He could feel the slight tremble in her shoulders. He knew she had been deeply terrified by the accident.

He rested his chin on the top of her head and gently patted her back. His large hand moved in a slow, soothing circle against her silk dress.

"How is Rowan now? I came as fast as I could after hearing the news." Carcel said, his deep voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

Ines rested her cheek against his coat. She took a deep breath, finding comfort in his steady presence.

Ines replied, "He is fine but still unconscious."

She pulled back just enough to look up into her husband’s face. Her eyes were tired. "The doctor cleaned his head wound and stitched it. He said there is no severe damage to the bone, but Rowan needs absolute rest. He has not opened his eyes yet."

Carcel pulled away from the hug slightly. He raised his hands and cupped her face. He leaned down and kissed her forehead with deep, quiet affection.

"He will be fine," Carcel promised her. His voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt. He looked directly into her eyes. "He has seen worse than that in war, and he still came back alive. He is a Hamilton, Ines. He is far too stubborn to let a broken carriage defeat him. Don’t worry."

Ines let out a slow, shaky breath. A small smile finally touched her lips. Carcel always knew exactly how to calm her fears.

Ines nodded. "I know. I am just anxious for him to wake."

Carcel dropped his hands from her face and took a step back, shrugging off his heavy travel coat and handing it to the butler. He rolled his broad shoulders to release the tension of the day.

Carcel asked, looking around the quiet foyer. "Where’s Miss Kingsley?"

Ines blinked, a little surprised by the sudden change in topic. "She should be in her room or Rowan’s room. She has barely left his side since they brought him home." Ines tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing. "Is something wrong?"

Carcel let out a quiet sigh. His eyes turned very serious.

Carcel replied, "Not really, but it is important. It is about her father’s case. Vance and I found something buried deep in the old magistrate records today. She needs to know before we proceed."

Ines instantly understood the gravity of his tone. If Carcel said it was important, it meant it could change the entire battle against Lord Hawksley.

Ines turned toward the hallway and called out clearly, "Mr. Simmons."

The elderly butler, who had been standing quietly near the drawing room doors, came immediately. He stopped a few feet away and bowed his head.

"Your Grace?" Simmons asked.

Ines replied, "Do you know where Delaney is?"

Simmons did not even need to think about it. "She’s in His Grace’s room," he replied smoothly. "She has been sitting by the bed since the doctor left this morning."

Ines nodded her head in thanks, and Mr. Simmons bowed again and left them alone.

She turned back to her husband. "She’s in Rowan’s room. You can talk to her there."

Carcel nodded. "Okay."

He stepped forward, kissed her forehead one more time for comfort, and turned toward the stairs. He walked up the grand staircase with slow, measured steps, his mind organizing the shocking legal documents he had just uncovered in the city.