Page 87 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
“We will see if you feel the same in a bit,” Darington drawled. Showing the man his back, he approached Charlotte. She scrambled to rise, but he held out a hand to stop her. “Please don’t get up. You’ve been through an ordeal. But I am pleased to meet you. Firthwell has told Her Grace and me much about you.”
Charlotte offered a tremulous smile, a small dusting of color settling over her cheekbones. “The pleasure is mine, Your Grace.”
“Why exactly are you here, Firthwell?” Townsend planted his hands on his hips. “I understand Lord Inverray and Lady Flora’s presence in this place, as they are Mrs. Taylor’s employers, but I fail to understand why you are here.” He tapped his chin. “Unless this is your way of showing that she’s now under your…protection.”
Lady Flora’s sharp gasp punctuated the air, and Finlay clamped his jaw tight. If such an accusation were made publicly, he’d be sunk. He planted his feet. “I will not dignify your insulting innuendo with a response.” He pulled a roll of parchment from his coat. “I’m here because I have some information I thought you might like to know before you commit to persecuting Mrs. Taylor for a charge you know is false.”
“False? No, my lord, it is not false.” Mr. Townsend smirked. “She has all but admitted to selling the ring.”
“And the warden agreed the full case should be heard by a magistrate before a sentence is enacted,” Inverray said through his teeth.
“Be that as it may, I would prefer for Mrs. Taylor to remain here until that can happen.” The older man slicked his mustache with a finger. “I believe I’ve provided you with ample reason to agree with me.”
“And what reason would that be?”
With a muscle ticking in his jaw, the marquess dragged his gaze from Townsend to look at Finlay. “Townsend here has made it known he will tell others there is a thief employed at the foundling home, thus hindering our fundraising efforts.”
Finlay rocked back on his feet. “That is rather—”
“Callous? Cruel? Underhanded?” Lady Flora offered, ticking the words off her fingers.
“All of those things.” Finlay raised his brow. “However, his threat should not concern you.”
Townsend snorted. “I would not take me and my connections for granted, my lord. I may not possess a title, but I have plenty of power.”
“Oh, I know you do. But I’ve come here with enough information to guarantee you leave Mrs. Taylor alone for the rest of her life.”
“Wh–what do you mean, Fin?” Charlotte sounded breathless, as if she feared voicing the question.
He dropped to his haunches in front of her and grasped her hands. “They lied to you. While you were tending to Roderick as he fought that horrible illness, Townsend located his will and tossed it in the fire.” Finlay narrowed his eyes at the man over his shoulder. “Roderick’s valet told us he helped you locate the paper in your son’s belongings and watched as you cheerfully destroyed it.” He squeezed her hand. “The valet tried to find you to tell you what he saw, but you had already fled.”
She was silent for a moment, her eyes large. “They wouldn’t let me stay for Roderick’s funeral.”
A low growl filled the small space as he rose and advanced on Townsend. “She was his wife. Whether you agreed with their marriage or not, your son loved her. He provided handsomely for her in his will. But in your bitterness and spite, you eschewed the opportunity to welcome a daughter into the family. You turned out your son’s grieving widow in a foreign country without a farthing to her name.”
Townsend notched his chin up and looked away. But Mrs. Townsend seemed compelled to defend her husband. “Roderick had always been a dutiful, loving son until she came along. Then, he wanted nothing to do with us.”
“Perhaps because he realized what vile people you are.”
Mrs. Townsend’s face became a mask of indignation. Finlay expected her to fire an insult back at him, but she held her tongue. Apparently good breeding stayed her temper.
“Thankfully, my man was able to locate a copy of the true will from Roderick’s London solicitor, outlining how his entire estate would go to his beloved wife, Charlotte Townsend.” He returned to her side and leaned close. “He loved you, Char, and did everything he could to provide for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”
An odd silence ensued, as if the occupants of the room held their collective breaths. But Charlotte just sat there, expressionless… until he saw the tears filling her eyes.
…
A sob wrenched free from Charlotte’s throat, and she hunched over, burying her face in her hands. Deep, soul-cleansing cries tore from her chest, and tears singed their way down her cheeks. She tried desperately to contain her emotions, but now that she knew the truth, knew that Roderick had not abandoned her as she’d convinced herself he had, there was no controlling the relief flooding all her extremities. It overflowed her heart.
While she cried, Finlay held her hand, his finger sweeping across her knuckles in a comforting touch. Lady Flora sat close to her side, a warm and steady presence.
Finlay continued, “The one thing I couldn’t understand, Townsend, was why you and Mrs. Townsend were so determined to see Charlotte excluded from Roderick’s will. Why did you show up unexpectedly, and without invitation in India?” The moment was so ripe with apprehension that Charlotte lifted her head to peer at him. “And then I found the notes.”
“The notes?” she croaked.
“The gambling notes.” He looked steadily at Mr. Townsend, who returned his stare with dull eyes. “Isn’t that correct, Mrs. Townsend?”
She hiccupped in surprise. She shot her gaze to the older woman, whose visage had turned a florid color. “I don’t understand.”
