Page 35 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
Matthews slid a look at the marquess, who smiled gamely in return. “I recommended the same thing to the marquess, but true to his Scots blood, he rebelled.”
“And it seems not to have affected him at all.” Finlay resisted the urge to fuss with his cravat or shift in his seat.
“Inverray is a phenomenon not likely to be replicated,” Matthews drawled, as if the marquess’s political savvy and success was a miracle. “Also his father, the Duke of Kilmorow, is not a haughty, manipulative snake like yours.”
Well,” Finlay said, drawing the sound out. He’d give free reign to his anger about the marriage decree in the privacy of his chambers at Rockhaven House. “So, find a proper, well-connected chit to make my future countess.”
The men spoke for several more minutes, before they exchanged goodbyes. As Finlay followed Inverray out of the room, Matthews called him back.
The earl looked stern when he said, “I know I don’t have to tell you this, but I will anyway. Keep your name out of the gossip pages. Everything you say and do will be commented upon, and if you’re serious about winning this seat, you need to prove you’re a serious candidate. I’ll rescind my support at the first hint of scandal.”
His mother’s diary and the horrible secret it contained floated through his mind like a poisonous cloud. It dissolved suddenly, revealing Charlotte’s pale face etched with fear.
Scandal could take many forms.
Chapter Thirteen
“Are you finally going to tell me why that fiend tried to abscond with you?”
Charlotte tore her focus from where Finlay had just departed out the door moments before and met Lady Flora’s implacable gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Your act of forgetfulness may have worked on the gentlemen, but we both know I’m too clever to fall for that Banbury tale.”
“Or too stubborn,” Charlotte mumbled under her breath. She’d known the woman would not placidly accept her excuses as Finlay and Lord Inverray had. Still, she couldn’t divulge the truth of the attack lest she lose her position at the home.
Folding her hands in her lap, she regarded the Scotswoman with a frown. “I really am at a loss for why he attempted to grab me.”
Lady Flora leaned back, crossing an arm across her waist and propping the opposite elbow on it. She fiddled with her lower lip. Charlotte had never seen her so unconcerned with decorum. Perhaps being at home encouraged her to relax in ways she did not indulge at Little Windmill House.
As if sensing the angle of her thoughts, Lady Flora dropped her hand and huffed. “I can almost hear the censure in your look.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Charlotte said, reaching for her cup of tea.
“Is that the only sentence you’ll utter for the rest of the day?” Flora sighed dramatically, snatching a lemon tart from the tray. “Come now, Charlotte—may I call you that?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but Lady Flora cut her off. “Please call me Flora. It’s deuced easier, especially considering how much time we’ll be spending together in the weeks to come.”
“If you insist, my—err, Flora.”
“I do insist.” She took another bite of her tart, closing her eyes briefly in relish. “Now, if you’re to be my companion, we should establish some rules.” She wrinkled her nose. “I despise the word ‘rules’. How about guidelines? Criteria?”
Charlotte dipped her head. “You may call them whatever you’d like, as not all of us are in a position to worry about a particular noun.”
Flora popped a finger in her mouth and removed it with apop. “My, I feel thoroughly chastised. No wonder your students are so well behaved.” She smiled. “When within Campbell House, please don’t remind me of what’s proper or what’s not. I’m not a ninny— I’ve been taught from the time I was a wee lass what behavior is expected of a duke’s daughter. But when I’m ensconced within these walls, I prefer to drop the trappings of my title and just be”—she paused, lifting a shoulder—“me.”
“I can appreciate that.” She darted a quick glance at the door before her voice dropped. “As soon as I get home, I take off my shoes and stockings. It’s some kind of mental signal I can finally relax.”
“Exactly,” Flora exclaimed, beaming her assent. “Because I genuinely respect and like you, I welcome your objections, but I’d ask that you not share them in front of others.” She pierced Charlotte with a firm stare. “I do not take kindly to being publicly scolded.”
“Understood,” Charlotte responded succinctly. “I doubt many people do.”
“Lastly, I expect you to tell me how I can help you.” Flora clasped her hands at her waist, a picture of pious modesty. “You will be assisting me in maintaining my reputation, and in turn, I am helping to keep you safe. At least I hope I am, but seeing as how you’re withholding information, I cannot be sure.”
Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek. The woman was like a dog with a bone, and she would not relinquish this line of questioning until she was given something in appeasement. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said, “I suspect a person from my past is searching for me.”
“Why?”
“I do not know,” she said honestly.
