Page 88 of Scandalous: Family Ties and Spies

“Jamie.” Ginny Rockwood’s firm, almost steely voice said her cousin’s name not as a question, but a demand. He’d never heard her speak with such strident authority before. Behind him, Jamie staggered to his feet.

“Ginny?” his friend’s voice wasn’t more than a whisper.

“Thank God,” the young woman breathed before she rushed past Valeran to wrap her arms around her cousin.

Grief and despair hung silently in the air, and Valeran turned toward the open study door. Where the hell was Amalie? Any other time, his wife would be standing outside his office door demanding to know what was wrong. Valeran stepped out into the hall and saw Boswell’s portly shadow standing in the center of the foyer. The butler was turning his head left and right as if completely befuddled by the people pounding and shouting their way into Somerville House.

“Boswell, where is the countess?” he asked tersely.

“She went out almost an hour ago, my lord. Her ladyship didn’t tell anyone where she was going,” the butler’s voice was strained with confusion and concern. “Lady Sommerville simply informed Mrs. Clancy and Mrs. Stubbins they were to take charge of the menu for next week’s dinner party, then she left.”

“Did you call a hack for her?” he demanded in a strident voice, panic holding him rigid where he stood.

“No, my lord. Her ladyship walked out of the house before I could even offer to do so.”

God almighty, she’d gone out alone.

No escort. No hack. For all they knew, the bastard who’d killed Peter might have already connected Amalie’s cousin to the family. Stunned, he stumbled backward and away from the butler. His wife was alone, and there was a foreign agent roaming the city who killed without hesitation or remorse. The touch of a firm hand on his elbow made him jerk around.

“Amalie.” Relief surged through him for a moment, before fear snaked through him.

“No, Val. It’s Ginny,” the younger woman said with a gentle squeeze to his arm. “Come along now, there are matters to be discussed.”

“Amalie’s missing.”

“It will be all right,” Ginny said soothingly.

Although the young woman didn’t hide the pain, worry, or fear threading through her words, she displayed the same steely control his wife possessed. His limbs became loose, almost lifeless as he stumbled forward. Ginny muttered a soft oath, and he heard her quietly order Boswell to send word to Amalie’s parents that Val didn’t know where his wife was.

The young woman’s words barely registered with Valeran as an image of Amalie filled his head. Where the hell had she gone and why? When she’d left his study, she’d said she was going to plan a dinner party. But she hadn’t done that, she’d gone out.

Why? What had made her leave? Desperation sliced through him when the question didn’t receive an answer. Valeran hadn’t realized Ginny had guided him back into the study until she pushed him down into the chair he’d been seated in moments ago.

“Sit back down, James Percival Athelson.”

The command made Valeran jerk, and he saw his friend, who’d only just begun to stand, slowly sink down into his chair once more. Ginny turned back to Valeran, and with a quick step forward, she gently touched his hand.

“I’m certain Amalie’s fine, Val, but when Aunt Patience and Uncle Julian receive the message I instructed Boswell to send, they’ll find her and make sure she comes home safely. By now, my…my parents, the entire family, should know… about Peter.”

Ginny’s voice broke slightly as she mentioned Peter, but her strength reminded Valeran of Amalie’s fearless determination to face the world and dare it to do its worst. Any fear Ginny was feeling was almost completely shrouded beneath her assured manner. Patting his hand in another comforting gesture, Ginny moved to kneel in front of Jamie. The dimming light of the day made it difficult to define where shapes ended and began, but he could tell Ginny had taken Jamie’s hand into hers.

“Now then, Jamie, you’re not to worry about Uncle Percy or Aunt Rhea, dearest. I reached Wills and Harry in time to pass on C’s instructions. We’re to say Peter was killed in a robbery while trying to save Knowles.”

Valeran jerked almost as hard as Jamie as he heard the nickname for the head of the Secret Intelligence Service’s foreign division roll off the young woman’s lips. A quiet laugh of amusement disturbed the air. Ginny gently cupped Jamie’s cheek, then shook her head slightly before cocking it to one side.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out what you and my brothers were up to, dear cousin, let alone not demand that C take me on?” Ginny expelled a sigh of exasperation as Jamie’s head slowly moved in a gesture of denial. “Never mind that. Right now, I want you to repeat after me, I am not responsible for Peter’s death.”

“Wh…what?” Jamie stammered. Ginny tugged on his hands as she bent her head closer to Valeran’s friend.

“I said, repeat after me. I am not responsible for Peter’s death.” She tugged on Jamie’s hands again, and Valeran could tell it was a hard, almost punishing move. “Say it, Lord Westbury.”

“I am…I can’t, Ginny. I just can’t do it.” Jamie objected with a sharp shake of his head. “It’s my fault that I encouraged him to join the service. He wouldn’t be dead—”

“I knew that’s what you would think. It’s why I came. It isn’t your fault, dearest.”

“He’d be alive now if I’d—”

“You don’t know that. You’re not God, Jamie. You don’t have the power to give yourself that much credit, so don’t even try,” Ginny sneered fiercely. “Now say it. If you don’t, you won’t be able to face my parents, let alone the rest of the family. And you cannot let that happen. It will raise questions. Questions that cannot be answered. God knows how we’re to explain why Peter was in Whitechapel to begin with even if he died trying to save someone else. Now say it, damn you. Make me believe you. Say it loud and with conviction. I am not responsible for Peter’s death.”