Page 47 of Saving a Scoundrel
“Of course. Here sit.” She gestured to a chair and took a seat on the settee.
Aunt Diana was a handsome woman in her midforties. She was his mother’s sister and, after their mother died, had become a surrogate mother to him and Daniel. She had been the one to tuck them into bed at night. To soothe the nightmares he’d had for the first months after his mother passed. She had sent them care packages at school and always been there to listen to their adventures and plans for the future. He loved her dearly. How was he going to bring this topic up?
“Aunt Diana, did Charlotte ever tell you about the letters she and her friends found last year?”
Diana shook her head.
“They discovered several love letters tucked into the pages of books at the bookshop in Marbury.”
Diana’s eyes widened. “That’s interesting.”
“They have been attempting to find out the author of the letters. They’ve become quite enthralled with the romantic nature of the whole thing. And they were able to track down the origin of the crate of books to a bookseller here in London. Today Eleanor Spencer went to the Book Emporium and found out that these books that contained the letters were all donated by a private family fifteen years ago.” He kept a close eye on his aunt’s face. “A Lord Babson.”
Diana leaned back against the tufted silk of the settee. “They found my letters?”
Even though he had guessed as much, Miles still felt shocked at his aunt’s quiet words. “So, they are yours? I wasn’t sure if it was you or Mother.”
“No, Agatha was quite devoted to your father. They cared for each other deeply. The letters and the affair were mine.” She sighed. “I was so young and foolish. I hid all his beautiful words in my favorite books so that no one would know about our affair. But in the end, his words were all pretty lies. He ended things and broke my heart. I left the letters hidden so they wouldn’t cause me any more pain to remember the time we had together.”
“I’m so sorry, Diana,” Miles said.
His aunt straightened. “Yes, well, I’m not surprised to hear cousin Derek sold off my father’s library. He always was a philistine.”
“Do you want the letters back? I can speak with Eleanor and Susanna.”
“No. I don’t want the girls to know they belong to me. The ending is too sad a tale and not one I want to share. Leave them to their romantic notions.”
He nodded. “As you wish.”
“Thank you for stopping by, my dear. But if you will excuse me, I think I will retire to my room. I’ll see you at Ascot on Wednesday.”
He stood and gave a small bow. “Good day, aunt. See you on Wednesday.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lucius took adeep inhale from his cheroot. The smoke filled his lungs and calmed his nerves. He leaned back against the brick wall of the Termage and stared at the side door that led into the Birdcage. It was half five in the afternoon, and the alley was devoid of the usual bustle of carriages and delivery carts that came through on the weekdays. He took another drag with a shaky hand.
The meeting Castell had asked him to be a part of had been an ambush of Fischer the dice man, and his associate, a regular patron of the Termage. Both men had denied the charges that they were stealing from the table. And Castell had asked Lucius to explain how he knew money was being taken. After Lucius presented the evidence, Castell and Jenson had broken both men’s hands, smashed the bones with a hammer. No turning them into the magistrate. Just swift retribution.
The door across the way opened, and Viola sauntered out dressed as fine as any lady on Bond Street. She wore a hat with an oversized brim shading her face, its long feathers bouncing to and fro as she walked.
She spotted him and crossed the alley. “Hiya, handsome. I didn’t know you smoked.”
Lucius looked down at the cheroot in his hand. “Yes, well, I only smoke when I’m upset. My mother says it’s a filthy habit.”
“Share?” Viola held out her hand, and Lucius passed her the cigar. She took a long drag and passed it back. “Hard day?”
He shook his head. “A fucking peach of a day.”
“I heard from Mercer, they caught the sharper working with Fischer.”
“Yes, I just came from that meeting. Brutal.” He shook his head. What was he doing here, working for a man who went from charming to lethal in seconds? This wasn’t his world. Or he didn’t want it to be anyway.
Viola shrugged. “You have to be brutal to garner respect. Castell would become a target for his enemies if he didn’t hand out swift punishment for crossing him. Trust me; he has plenty in his business.”
“I guess.” He puffed the cheroot.
“Martin said you came to the door with a sweet, little lady in tow today. Is that part of why you’re standing here puffing away?”
