What a Reckless Rogue Needs (The Sinful Scoundrels, #2)(57)

Everyone rose and started filing out, but Colin held back with Angeline. “I wish we could spend time alone, but I have a duty.”

“I’ll take the girls and Hercules for a walk. We might as well enjoy the sunshine while it lasts,” Angeline said.

Colin briefly touched her hand. “Perhaps we can ride this afternoon if you wish.”

“I would be delighted,” she said.

He hoped that they would not be shadowed by everyone else, but he resigned himself to the fact that their ride would likely be a group activity. They couldn’t even go off by themselves without raising suspicion about their relationship. He wanted to keep it as private as possible, but it was far more difficult now that they no longer had Sommerall as their refuge.

Fifteen minutes later, Colin walked into his father’s study and closed the door.

“Be seated,” the marquess said.

“I expect you wish to discuss who we should contact to gain support for Angeline.”

“Not at this time,” he said. “Faraday wishes to see Sommerall again. He has another prospect in mind, but he wants to look over Sommerall once more. I plan to meet him there in one hour, and I want you to attend.”

Colin gripped the arms of the chair. “I don’t see the point in my presence. I have nothing to add. My wishes haven’t changed, and I know yours have not changed, either.”

“I want you to see it from his perspective.”

“Why?”

“I have my reasons. I requested Ames to have the carriage ready. We will depart now.”

He almost refused, but his father had something up his sleeve. Colin nodded and followed his father to the carriage.



The marquess walked about the ground floor and headed into the anteroom. “It’s immaculate, but the carpet is faded badly.”

“The shutters were left open,” Colin said. “The ones in the breakfast parlor are also faded.”

“Otherwise, the room is immaculate.”

“Angeline directed Agnes to clean all the rooms.”

“I mentioned to Margaret that the scullery maid ought to be promoted.” He tramped into the breakfast parlor. “I see what you mean about the rugs.”

“I imagine the tenants might want them,” Colin said. “There are also crates of items that are of no use to us. They are stored properly in the attic. I imagine the servants and the tenants might make use of them.”

“I’m surprised you thought of it,” the marquess said.

“It was Angeline’s suggestion.”

The marquess wandered into the study. “Another faded rug.” He walked to the desk. “I forgot all about this inkstand. Clever design.”

“You should take it,” Colin said.

The marquess shook his head. “I think not.”

Colin supposed his father associated it with his first marriage.

“Do you want to survey the kitchen? It’s in good working order according to the maid, Agnes.”

“God, no. Why would I care about it?”

“Faraday might.”

“Hopefully he won’t think of it. Let’s have a look upstairs.”

Colin took him into the drawing room. “Angeline said it needs something. I think she called it paperings or some such.”

“Don’t look to me for help,” the marquess said. “The ceiling is in good order. The carpet is in decent shape here.”

“That’s because the shutters were closed in here,” Colin said.

“Let’s see the bedchambers,” the marquess said.

He walked into the second one. “My old shaving mirror. I used to put a dab of soap on your cheek when you watched the valet shave me. You would use your finger like a razor.”

Colin huffed. “I remember.”

The marquess sighed. “It was long ago.” He gazed about the room and walked to the connecting door. Then he paused. “Is it in good order?”

“Yes.” His father evidently did not want to walk into his mother’s room. “There is nothing of a personal nature in there—or in any of the other chambers.”

The marquess walked out into the corridor, and then he paused at the closed door of the nursery. He started to reach for the door and dropped his hand. “Did you go inside?”

He clenched his jaw. “Yes, but I do not advise it.”

The marquess inhaled. Then he opened the door, strode inside, and halted abruptly.

Colin swallowed hard. They’d forgotten to cover the cradle.

“Ah, hell.” His father took out a handkerchief and blotted his eyes.

Colin set his hand on his father’s shoulder. He could feel his father shaking.

The marquess blew his nose and exhaled. “After all these years, I didn’t expect it would still have the power to wound me.”

“I understand,” Colin said.

“I’ve seen enough. Faraday can explore on his own when he arrives.”

They went downstairs and waited more than an hour in the study.

“I expect he isn’t interested enough,” the marquess said. “We might as well depart.”

Colin pulled the drapes closed over the window. They walked out into the great hall just as the clatter of wheels and horse hooves sounded.