Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 156 - Hundred And Fifty Six

The moment the royal doors closed, the spell broke.

"Well," Lord Hudson said loudly. "I suppose the party is over. Too bad. I was enjoying it."

Immediately, guests started leaving one after the other. No one wanted to stay in a room where such a scandal had occurred. They wanted to go home and write letters about it. They wanted to rush to their clubs and recount every detail.

The room emptied quickly. The orchestra packed away their violins. Servants began to move around the edges of the room, snuffing out candles. The light dimmed, turning the grand hall into a cavern of shadows.

Ines stood still. Her hand was still clutching Carcel’s arm. Her heart was slowly returning to a normal rhythm.

She looked up at him.

Carcel was looking at the door. His jaw was tight. He looked exhausted, but relieved.

"Where were you?" Ines asked, whispering softly.

She didn’t ask it with anger. She asked it with curiosity. He was supposed to be there when Priscilla started reading. He was supposed to be the second half of the trap. He had been late.

Carcel looked down at her. A sheepish expression crossed his face, softening his sharp features.

"I was incompetent," Carcel admitted. He let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. "I was so focused on getting here, on making sure the carriage was ready... I forgot the letters at home."

Ines blinked. "You forgot the letters?"

"I realized it halfway here," Carcel explained, shaking his head. "I had to make the driver turn around. I had to rush back to get it. I thought I would be too late. I thought I had left you alone to face the wolves."

He reached out and touched her cheek, his thumb brushing away the memory of her fake tears.

"Forgive me," he whispered. "I promised to protect you, and I was late."

Ines smiled. It was a genuine, warm smile. She covered his hand with hers.

"It is alright," she said. "I took care of most of it. I think I improvised quite well."

Carcel chuckled. "You were magnificent. When you started crying... for a moment, even I believed you were heartbroken."

"I am a writer," Ines reminded him, her eyes twinkling. "I know how to create a scene."

"I knew you would," Carcel replied.

He pulled her closer. The room was nearly empty now. Only a few servants remained at the far end, sweeping the floor. They were alone in the center of the vast, silent space.

Ines let out a long sigh. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her feeling heavy and tired.

"Carcel," she said.

She turned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She buried her face in his chest, smelling the starch of his shirt and the familiar scent of him.

"Is it finally over?" she asked. Her voice was muffled against his coat.

She needed to hear him say it. She needed to know that there were no more blackmailers, no more spies, no more secrets.

Carcel wrapped his arms around her. He held her tight, resting his chin on the top of her head. He rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles.

"Yes, my love," Carcel whispered into her hair. "It’s finally over. Priscilla is ruined. The Queen has sided with us. The book is dismissed as the ravings of a madwoman."

He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes.

"Arthur Pendleton is safe. He’s still a mystery," he promised. "And Ines Hamilton is going to be a Duchess."

Ines closed her eyes, leaning into his warmth. "I like the sound of that."

They stood there for a moment, just breathing, enjoying the peace.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Heavy footsteps echoed on the wooden floor.

Ines and Carcel stiffened. They quickly broke the hug, stepping apart to a respectable distance.

They turned to see Rowan walking toward them.

Rowan was still holding a glass of wine. His mask was pushed up onto his forehead. He looked from Ines to Carcel, and then back to Ines. He didn’t look angry. He looked like a man who had missed a very interesting show because he was gambling in the back room.

Rowan cleared his throat loudly.

"Well," Rowan said. "That was... dramatic."

"Rowan," Ines said, smoothing her silver dress. "You missed the excitement."

"What is there to miss? I heard the shouting, I saw you crying," Rowan said. "And I saw Lady Alworth escorted like a criminal. I assume you two had something to do with that?"

"We handled it," Carcel said simply.

Rowan looked at Carcel. He looked at the way the Duke was standing close to his sister—protective, solid, and undeniably in love. Rowan nodded slowly.

"Good," Rowan said. "I never liked that woman anyway. Too much perfume."

He took a sip of his wine.

"It seems you two have a lot to talk about," Rowan observed. He gestured between them with his glass. "You have secrets. I can tell. You look like conspirators."

Ines smiled nervously. "We just... resolved a misunderstanding, brother."

"Right," Rowan said, though he didn’t sound convinced. He looked at Carcel. "Why don’t you come over tomorrow, Carcel? For dinner. We can celebrate the... resolution of this misunderstanding. And perhaps you can explain why my sister was crying earlier."

Carcel smiled. He bowed slightly to his future brother-in-law.

"I would love to," Carcel said. "I will be there at seven."

"Make it six," Rowan corrected. "I brought back some excellent brandy from the country."

Rowan turned to Ines. He held out his arm.

"Let’s go home, Ines," Rowan said gently. "The carriage is waiting. It has been a long night."

Ines nodded. She walked over to her brother and took his arm.

Before they walked away, she turned back. She looked at Carcel one last time.

He was standing alone in the center of the ballroom, under the dimming lights. He raised his hand in a small wave. His eyes were full of promise.

Ines smiled at him, a silent goodnight.

Then, she turned and followed her brother out into the cool London night.