Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 149 - Hundred And Forty Nine

Rowan led Ines up the steps and into the house. The warmth of the foyer wrapped around them. Simmons, the butler, was standing there with a silver tray, looking as pleased as his stiff face would allow.

"Welcome home, Your Grace," Simmons said.

"Thank you, Simmons," Rowan said, handing over his hat and gloves. "Tell the kitchen to prepare a feast. I want roast beef. No more pheasant. I have eaten enough birds to grow wings myself."

Simmons bowed low. "At once, sir."

Rowan turned back to Ines. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and they began to walk slowly toward the drawing room. The pace was leisurely, a stark contrast to the frantic energy Ines had felt earlier.

"How is everything going?" Ines asked him, looking up at his profile. "Did you manage to survive the Elders without challenging anyone to a duel?"

Rowan groaned dramatically. "Barely. They are stubborn, Ines. They have traditions for everything. They wanted us to have a ceremony that lasts four hours. I told them that Carcel would likely fall asleep standing up, and you would faint from hunger."

Ines laughed. "You are probably right. Carcel is not known for his patience with long speeches."

"Speaking of Carcel," Rowan said, glancing down at her. "Has he been behaving? Has he been visiting?"

Ines felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She thought of Carcel in her bedroom, shirtless and feverish. She thought of him kissing her knuckles.

"He has been... very attentive," Ines said carefully. "He visits often." 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

"Good," Rowan said firmly. "He better. If he neglects you, I will have to remind him that being a Duke does not exempt him from a beatdown from his best friend."

They reached the drawing room. The sun outside had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the floor. The room was bathed in a warm, amber glow.

Rowan led her to the sofa and sat down, pulling her to sit beside him. He didn’t let go of her hand. He looked at her, his expression turning serious for a moment. He searched her face, looking for any sign of unhappiness.

"Going very well," Rowan said, answering her earlier question about the trip. "We managed to finalize the guest list. The estate in the country is ready for the honeymoon. We just have a few weeks to the wedding."

He paused. He squeezed her hand gently.

"Are you happy?" he asked.

The question hung in the air. It was simple, but it carried so much weight. Rowan wasn’t asking about the dress or the flowers. He was asking about her heart. He was asking if she was ready to give her life to Carcel.

Ines looked at him. She saw the love in his eyes. He was her big brother, trying to protect her one last time before she belonged to someone else.

She thought about the threats. She thought about Priscilla. She thought about the fear that had gripped her for days.

But then, she thought about Carcel. She thought about the way he looked at her when she nursed him. She thought about how he had kept Gladys safe. She thought about the partnership they had built in the shadows.

Yes, she was scared of the ball. But was she happy?

Ines smiled. It was a soft, genuine smile that reached her eyes.

"I am," Ines said softly. "I am very happy, Rowan. I love him."

Rowan let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing. He patted her hand.

"That is all I needed to hear," he said. "If you are happy, then I can endure a thousand lectures from Uncle Silas."

He leaned back against the sofa cushions, stretching his long legs out.

"Now," Rowan said, his voice returning to its usual booming cheerfulness. "Let me tell you about the food. You will not believe what Aunt Margery wanted to serve as a dessert. A tower of jelly, Ines! A wobbling, purple tower!"

Ines giggled, the sound bubbling up from her chest. "Jelly? At a ducal wedding?"

"Exactly!" Rowan exclaimed, waving his hand. "I told her it was ridiculous. I told her we needed cake. Layers and layers of cake."

As the sun finally disappeared below the horizon, plunging the room into twilight, Ines sat there and listened to her brother talk about jelly and cake. For the first time in two week, she felt absolutely content.

~ ••••• ~

One Week Later...

Tonight, the Grand Hall of the Hamilton mansion was vibrating with the booming voice of its master.

"Ines!" Rowan bellowed from the bottom of the stairs. His voice echoed off the marble walls, making the crystal chandelier tremble slightly.

He stood in front of the large hallway mirror, looking furious. He was wrestling with his cravat, his large hands pulling at the starched white linen as if he were trying to strangle it. He was dressed in formal evening wear—a black tailcoat, a crisp white waistcoat, and trousers that were pressed to perfection. But the cravat was refusing to cooperate.

"We are going to be late," Rowan grumbled to his reflection. "And if we are late, we will be stuck in the receiving line behind the Smythe-Smiths, and I cannot endure another conversation about their musical quartet."

A servant, a young footman, stepped forward cautiously. He held a silver tray. On the tray sat a black velvet mask, simple and elegant.

"Your mask, Your Grace," The footman said softly.

Rowan sighed, finally abandoning his war with the cravat. It was slightly crooked, but it would have to do. He picked up the mask.

"Thank you," Rowan replied. He tapped the mask against his palm. "Ridiculous things. I don’t know why we have to hide our faces. Everyone knows who everyone is by the size of their nose or the shape of their chin."

He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out his gold pocket watch. He flipped the lid open with a sharp click.

The hands pointed straight up.

"It struck seven," Rowan announced, his voice rising again. He turned toward the staircase.

"Ines... what is keeping you? If you are trying to finish a Chapter of the book you’re reading, I will drag you out myself!"

He was joking, of course. He didn’t know about the books. He didn’t know about Arthur Pendleton. He just thought his sister was being a typical lady, fussing over ribbons.

Then, there was a rustle of fabric from the top of the stairs.

Rowan stopped talking. He looked up.

Ines was there.