A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 60 - Sixty

Ines narrowed her eyes. She leaned forward.

"Simmons," she warned. "I have known you since I was in leading strings. You know everything. If Rowan sneezes in the library, you know about it in the pantry."

"I assure you, My Lady," Simmons said. "His Grace has been... very private recently."

Ines sighed. She bounced Harry, who was starting to get fussy.

"I’ll have to ask Aunt Margery myself," Ines decided. "If anyone knows the gossip in this house, it is her. Has she arrived?"

"Not yet, but soon," Simmons replied. "Her carriage is expected within the hour."

Ines nodded. "Fine. Then tell me about the house. Is everything prepared? Are the guest rooms ready?" 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"Yes, My Lady," Simmons said. "Though the Blue Suite in the West Wing is currently occupied."

Ines paused. "Occupied? By whom?"

Simmons hesitated. This was the delicate part.

"By Miss Kingsley," Simmons said.

Ines frowned. She looked at Carcel, who was busy showing Harry a statue of a Greek hero.

"Kingsley?" Ines repeated. "Do we have a relative Kingsley? Carcel, do we know a Kingsley?"

Carcel shrugged. "Your family tree is a forest, my love. I lose track after the second branch. Perhaps she is from the Scottish side?"

Ines turned back to Simmons. "Is she a cousin?"

Simmons cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable.

"No, My Lady," Simmons said quietly. "She is not a relation."

Ines blinked. "Not a relation? Then who is she? Why is she staying in the family wing, alone in this house with my brother?"

"She is... an employee," Simmons explained carefully. "She is the matchmaker."

Ines’s jaw dropped.

"The what?"

"The matchmaker," Simmons repeated. "Miss Delaney Kingsley. Madame Coeur. Lady Margery hired her to assist His Grace in finding a wife."

Ines stared at the butler. She looked at Carcel. Carcel looked equally confused.

"A matchmaker?" Ines whispered. "Rowan hates matchmakers more than he hates desperate mamas. He calls them ’flesh peddlers.’ He threw the last one out of the house because she suggested he wear lavender pantaloons."

"Indeed," Simmons agreed. "However, Miss Kingsley is... different. She has been residing here for almost a week."

"A week?" Ines cried. "He has a strange woman living in his house for a week? A matchmaker?"

"She is very... efficient," Simmons added diplomatically.

Ines was puzzled. This didn’t sound like Rowan. Rowan was private. Rowan was proud. Hiring a woman to live in his house and find him a wife was an act of desperation she hadn’t expected.

"Why?" Ines asked the air. "Why would he do that?"

Before Simmons could answer, the heavy front doors swung open again.

The sound of footsteps echoed on the marble.

Ines turned around.

Rowan walked in. He looked tired but handsome in his black business coat. He was carrying a leather portfolio.

And beside him walked a woman.

Ines’s eyes widened.

The woman was tall. She had dark hair piled high in an intricate style. She was wearing a dress of deep burgundy velvet that looked suspiciously like the one Ines’s mother used to wear. At her throat, rubies—no, garnets—glittered under the chandelier.

She looked regal. She looked imposing. She looked evey bit like a Duchess.

But she wasn’t wearing satin slippers. Beneath the velvet hem, Ines spotted a pair of sensible, black leather boots.

Rowan stopped. He saw the group in the foyer.

His face transformed. The fatigue vanished, replaced by genuine relief.

"Ines," Rowan said.

"Rowan," Ines replied. She didn’t move to hug him yet. Her eyes were fixed on the woman in red.

"And Carcel," Rowan added, nodding to his brother-in-law. "And my little terror."

Harry shrieked. "Unca Ro!"

Rowan smiled. He walked forward.

"You made good time," Rowan said. "I didn’t expect you until supper."

"We drove fast," Carcel said, grinning. "Ines threatened the driver."

Rowan laughed. He turned to the woman beside him.

"Ines," Rowan said, gesturing to the lady in red. "I don’t believe you have met..."

He paused.

Ines watched him. She saw the hesitation. She saw the way he glanced at the woman—not with the dismissal of an employer, but with a strange, guarded intensity.

"This is Miss Kingsley," Rowan introduced.

Delaney stepped forward. She bobbed a curtsy. It was graceful, but not subservient.

"Your Grace," Delaney said. Her voice was calm. "It is an honor."

Ines looked at her.

"Miss Kingsley," Ines said slowly. "Simmons tells me you are the matchmaker."

Delaney froze.

Rowan froze.

Delaney looked at Rowan. He told them?

Rowan looked at Simmons. Simmons looked at the ceiling, suddenly finding the plasterwork fascinating.

"Yes," Delaney said, recovering quickly. "I am... assisting His Grace."

"Assisting," Ines repeated. She looked at the velvet dress. She looked at the family jewels around Delaney’s neck. "You are wearing my mother’s garnets."

Delaney’s hand flew to her throat. "Oh. Yes. I... His Grace insisted. For the meeting."

"Meeting?" Ines asked. "Do matchmakers attend business meetings now?"

"It was a negotiation," Rowan interjected quickly. He stepped between them, shielding Delaney slightly. "I needed a female relative to look respectable. Miss Kingsley... graciously agreed to pose as my cousin."

"Pose as your cousin," Ines said flatly. "So you are a matchmaker, dressed as a Duchess, pretending to be a cousin, wearing my mother’s jewelry, and wearing... are those men’s walking boots?"

Ines pointed at Delaney’s feet.

Delaney looked down. She blushed.

"My shoes... broke," Delaney whispered.

"I bought her new ones," Rowan said defensively. "On the street."

Ines looked from Rowan to Delaney. She looked at the protective way Rowan stood. She looked at the flush on Delaney’s cheeks. She looked at the comfortable boots that no proper lady would wear but a caring man would buy.

A slow, mischievous smile spread across Ines’s face.

"I see," Ines said. "Well. This is going to be a very entertaining season."

She turned to Carcel.

"Give me the baby, my love," Ines said.

She took Harry from Carcel. She walked over to Rowan.

"Welcome back to the chaos, brother," Ines said. She kissed his cheek. Then she turned to Delaney.

"And welcome to the family... Miss Kingsley," Ines said, with a knowing glint in her eye. "Even if it is just pretend."

Delaney curtsied again. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Harry reached out a sticky hand toward Delaney.

"Pweety," Harry said, grabbing a fold of the velvet dress.

Delaney smiled. It was a real smile this time, soft and unguarded. She touched Harry’s tiny hand.

"Hello, little one," she whispered.

Rowan watched her. He watched her smile at his nephew.

And Ines, sharp-eyed Ines, watched Rowan watching her.

"Simmons," Ines called out over her shoulder. "Bring the tea. And make it very strong."