Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 82: Carcel’s POV

Carcel stood by the refreshment table, a glass of champagne in his hand that he had no intention of drinking. He had finished his obligatory rounds with the businessmen, a tedious dance of tariffs and shipping routes that usually engaged his mind. Tonight, however, his mind was a blank wall. Or rather, it was a wall covered in pictures of one woman.

He watched Rowan. His friend was leading Ines through the crowd, a proud, determined tugboat guiding a reluctant ship. He was leading her straight to Evans.

Carcel took a sip of the wine. It tasted sour.

"This is not enjoyable at all," he thought to himself, his gaze darkening. He set the glass down on the table with a sharp click that made a nearby dowager jump.

Is it because I know the purpose of this ball? he asked himself. Because I know it is a marketplace, and she is the ware?

He watched them meet. He saw Evans bow, a polite, terrified angle. He saw Ines curtsy.

And then, he saw them talk.

At first, it was stiff. Awkward. But then...

She is smiling.

Carcel felt a muscle in his jaw jump. Ines, who didn’t particularly like talking to strangers... Ines, who froze when Amelia spoke to her... is smiling.

It wasn’t a polite, social smile. It was a real one. Her eyes were bright. She leaned in.

He became annoyed. No, that was too mild. He became furious.

What were they talking about to make her ears turn so red? he wondered, his hands clenching at his sides. Is he charming her? Is Evans, the man who lives in books, actually capable of charm?

He looked away. He couldn’t watch it. It felt like a betrayal. It felt like she was giving away pieces of herself—the bright, happy, alive pieces that he thought belonged only to him—to a stranger.

"What are you thinking so hard about, Your Grace?"

The voice was slurred, overly familiar, and far too close.

Carcel turned. Lady Kensington.

Of course, he thought, suppressing a groan. Just what I need. Lady Kensington. She was a woman who collected gossip like other women collected ribbons, and she was notoriously difficult to escape once she had you in her sights.

She’s a troublesome woman to deal to, he thought, his eyes scanning for an exit. I need to avoid her.

He started walking away, his movement abrupt. "Nothing at all," he said, his voice cold and dismissive.

Lady Kensington, however, was not easily deterred. And she was, Carcel noticed with a distainful sniff, already quite drunk. She stumbled slightly as she followed him, her heavy perfume wafting around them.

"Duke Hamilton put in a lot of effort into this," she slurred, waving her fan vaguely at the room. "A lot of effort. I heard... I heard tonight he’s finally settling his sister’s affairs."

Carcel stopped in his tracks.

The world seemed to narrow down to the woman’s flushed, foolish face.

He turned slowly.

"What did you say?" he asked. His voice was low, but it had an edge that could cut glass.

Lady Kensington smiled, a sloppy, conspiring grin. "Lady Ines Hamilton," she whispered loudly. "She seems to be getting along very well with Earl Montclair. The one who recently moved here. Everyone is talking about it. I wonder... I wonder if a wedding will be held soon."

Carcel chuckled. It was a dry, humorless sound. "If everyone got married that quickly, based on one conversation," he said, his tone icy, "there wouldn’t be any single man or woman left in the country by midnight."

He had to get away from her as quickly as possible.

He decided to change the conversation, to distract her. "Is Lord Kensington here?" he asked, looking over her head. "I would like to meet him concerning business. The shipping contract..."

But Lady Kensington kept on going, ignoring his question entirely. She was on a roll.

"But that’s not all," she said, her steps wobbling as she leaned in closer, eager to share the real scandal. "I just saw the two of them... slipping out of the ballroom together."

Carcel went still.

"Are you saying," he asked, his voice dangerously quiet, "the two of them left the ballroom?"

Lady Kensington nodded vigorously, nearly losing her balance. "Just now! You should have seen Lady Hamilton’s face when she walked with the Earl. She looked... enraptured. Truly."

She tapped her chin with her fan, thinking. "What were they talking about? I was close enough to hear a snippet. Oh yes. Novels."

Novels.

Carcel’s hands clenched into fists so tight his nails dug into his palms.

"They seemed to be heading towards the library," Lady Kensington finished triumphantly.

Carcel’s mind exploded.

Novels... Library.

It hit him like a blow. The realization was sharp, bitter, and terrifying.

Now I understand, he thought, his heart pounding a furious rhythm against his ribs. Now I understand why the usually guarded Ines, the Icy Lady, made such a face. Why she smiled at him.

She is a woman who would do anything for her writing. Anything.

He remembered the list. The questions. The way she had looked at him over the paper.

She opened up her heart to me because of her writing, he thought, a wave of jealousy so intense it was nauseating washing over him. She let me in because I was... research. Because I was useful.

Perhaps... perhaps with him too...

Was she doing the same thing? Was she taking Evans to the library to... to interview him? To ask him about his desires? To... to show him the manuscript?

Or worse. Was she taking him there because she had found a kindred spirit? A man who loved books as she did?

Lady Kensington continued, oblivious to the murderous aura radiating from the Duke. She touched her cheeks, closing her eyes, blushing on behalf of the imaginary couple.

"We should stay away from the library," she giggled. "We mustn’t disturb the couple... young love needs its privacy, don’t you think?"

She opened her eyes, ready to share a knowing look with Carcel. "Don’t you agree?"

But she was talking to thin air.

Carcel wasn’t in the premises. It was like he had disappeared.

Lady Kensington looked around in shock, blinking rapidly. "Ehh... where did he go?"

Carcel didn’t walk to the library. He stalked.

He moved through the corridors like a storm cloud, his long strides eating up the distance. He didn’t care who saw him. He didn’t care about protocol. He cared about one thing.

The library.

The place where they had met in the dark. The place where he had kissed her. The place where he had marked her.

To think of another man in there with her... sitting in that chair... looking at her books... it was intolerable.

He reached the door. It was open.

He stopped.

He looked inside.

The room was bathed in the warm glow of the lamps. It looked cozy. Intimate.

Evans Montclair was sitting at the reading table. He looked relaxed. Happy.

And Ines... Ines was standing nearby. She was looking at Evans, and she was smiling. It was a soft, genuine smile. A smile of shared understanding.

Carcel felt a shard of ice pierce his heart.

She looked... comfortable. She didn’t look terrified. She didn’t look overwhelmed by passion. She just looked... happy.

And that, somehow, hurt more than anything else.

He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the sight of them together in their room.

He stepped forward. He didn’t knock. He didn’t announce himself. He simply walked in, his presence filling the doorway, sucking the air out of the room.

Ines turned. Evans looked up.

Carcel’s eyes swept over them, cold and assessing.

"May I come in?" he asked.

His voice was a low, dangerous rumble. It wasn’t a request. It was a challenge. He looked directly at Ines, his dark eyes burning into hers.

"I hope," he said, his voice dripping with a quiet, lethal sarcasm, "I’m not interrupting anything... private."