A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 68 - Sixty Eight

Delaney looked around. The foyer was empty. Simmons was likely overseeing the kitchen. The footmen were outside.

She stepped away from the stairs. She moved silently, her silk shoe making no sound on the rugs. She crept toward the study corridor.

There was a large marble bust of a Roman senator on a pedestal near the study door.

Delaney slipped behind it, pressing herself into the shadows.

She strained her ears.

"You have the railway contract," Rowan said. He sounded irritated. "We signed it at Lord Sterling’s office. The land rights are yours. The price was agreed."

"The price for the land was agreed," the man replied. "But now we are discussing the price for the bride."

Delaney’s breath hitched.

"Lady Celine comes with a substantial dowry," the man continued. His voice was closer now. They were walking toward the door. "Sixty thousand pounds, to be exact."

Delaney felt a cold shiver go down her spine. Sixty thousand pounds. The exact amount she needed.

It was a cursed number.

"I am aware of the dowry," Rowan said coldly. "I do not need the money. The Hamilton estate is solvent."

"Every estate needs cash," the man chuckled. It was a dark, mirthless sound. "But my niece is a prize. And my family... we like to be sure. This new contract ties the railway shares to the marriage settlement. If you marry her, the shares are yours. If you do not... the railway deal is void. And the penalties for breach of contract will be... severe."

"You are threatening me," Rowan said.

"I am negotiating," the man corrected. "I am simply ensuring that the Duke of Ford does not get cold feet. You have a reputation, Your Grace. You are elusive. I want to make sure you stay caught."

Delaney frowned as she hid herself, listening to their conversations.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how gentlemen did business. This was coercion. It was a trap.

Rowan was speaking again.

"I have told you," Rowan said, his voice hard. "I intend to marry her. You do not need to hold a gun to my head."

"Then sign the paper," the man pressed. "Sign the addendum. "

"Give me time to review it."

"No. Sign it now."

"I never sign without reviewing," Rowan countered. "I will read it tonight. I will give you my answer in the morning."

"You are stalling," the man accused.

"I am being prudent," Rowan snapped.

The man’s voice kept haunting Delaney.

It wasn’t just the words. It was the cadence. It was the way he emphasized certain syllables. It scratched at a memory in the back of her mind—a memory of a dark study, of her father crying, of a man standing in the shadows. Another memory of three years ago flooded her mind.

It sounds too familiar, she thought. Too familiar.

The footsteps grew louder.

"Very well," the man said. "Review it. But know this, Hamilton. I do not like to wait. And I do not like to lose."

The study door handle turned.

Delaney’s heart stopped. They were coming out.

She looked for a place to run. The stairs were too far. If she moved now, they would see her.

She shrank back further into the alcove behind the statue. She pulled her skirts tight around her legs. She prayed to every god she knew that they wouldn’t look to the left.

The door opened.

Rowan stepped out first. He looked furious. His face was pale, his jaw set in a line of white-hot anger. He held a rolled-up document in his hand.

Then, the other man stepped out.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with hair that was graying at the temples. He wore a finely tailored black coat. He looked distinguished. He looked powerful.

They came in front of the drawing room, about to enter to join the ladies.

The man turned his head to say something to Rowan. The light from the foyer chandelier hit his face fully.

Delaney saw him.

She saw the scar above his left eyebrow. She saw the cold, shark-like grey eyes. She saw the cruel set of his mouth.

Her eyes widened with shock. The world seemed to tilt on its axis.

She let out a squeal of shock.

It was involuntary. A tiny, high-pitched gasp that escaped her throat before she could stop it.

Eep!

Rowan stopped. He looked around. "Did you hear that?"

Delaney clamped her mouth shut. She pressed her hand over her lips so hard it hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut, making herself as small as possible behind the marble Roman.

The man paused. He looked toward the shadows. His gaze swept over the pedestal.

"Probably a mouse," the man said dismissively. "Old houses are full of vermin."

"Let us go inside," Rowan said impatiently. "My family is waiting."

They walked past her. They didn’t see her. They walked into the drawing room and the doors closed behind them.

Delaney slumped against the wall. Her legs gave way. She slid down until she was crouching on the floor.

Her chest was heaving. She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

She knew that face. She knew that voice. She knew that scar.

That wasn’t just Lady Farrington’s brother. That wasn’t just a railway investor.

"Lady Celine’s uncle is Lord Hawksley?" she thought to herself in horror.

Lord Hawksley.

The name echoed in her mind like a funeral bell.

Lord Hawksley was the man who had ruined her father. He was the man who had tricked Baron Kingsley into the embezzlement scheme. He was the man who had testified against her father in court, sending him to prison while Hawksley walked away with the profits.

He was the reason her parents was dead. He was the reason her family was destitute. He was the reason she had to become a matchmaker.

And he was the man holding her debt. The man her uncle sold her off to for God knows how much. The man who tried to force himself on her three years ago on the balcony.

And now, Rowan was about to marry his niece. Rowan was about to sign a contract that would bind him to the monster who had destroyed her life.

Delaney felt a wave of nausea.

"He is here," she whispered to the empty hall. "He is in the drawing room."

She looked at her hands. They were shaking uncontrollably.

If Hawksley saw her... if he recognized her...

He would know she was a Kingsley. THE KINGSLEY who was involved in the "Royal Silk Scam" popularly known as "The Oakridge Case" because the Oakridge estate (Arthur’s largest estate and home of the Kingsley’s) was used for settlement.

He would know she was Arthur Kingsley’s daughter. He would know she was the daughter of the man he destroyed. And he would destroy her too. He would tell Rowan everything. He would reveal the scandal. He would ruin her reputation and ensure she never earned the money to pay him back so that she would marry him.

"I have to leave," she thought. "I have to run. I can’t let him see me."

She tried to stand up, but her knees were feeling like jelly.

"No," she corrected herself. "I cannot run. If I run, Rowan signs that contract. If I run, Rowan marries into that viper’s nest."

This is against everything she knows and believes in matchmaking but what could she do? She was just a matchmaker in a borrowed dress.

Inside the drawing room, the atmosphere shifted as the men entered.

"Brother!" Lady Farrington cried out. "Finally!"

She stood up and rushed over to the man.

"You are late," she said, beaming.

"Apologies, sister," Lord Hawksley said smoothly. He kissed her cheek. "Business with His Grace."

He turned to the room. He bowed perfectly.

"Lady Margery," he acknowledged. "Duchess."

He looked at Celine.

"And my favorite niece," he smiled. It was the smile of a wolf looking at a lamb.

"Hello, Uncle," Celine said, dipping a curtsy.

Rowan stood by the fireplace. He looked tense. He looked like he wanted to throw the man out of the window.

He looked around the room. He frowned.

"Where is Miss Kingsley?" Rowan asked.

Ines looked up from her tea. "She went upstairs. She said she forgot a list."

"Oh," Rowan said. He felt a pang of disappointment. He had wanted her here. He had wanted her sharp eyes to see this man. He had wanted her opinion.

"Kingsley?" Lord Hawksley asked, the name ringing a bell in his head.