Page 39 of What A Rogue Wants (Lords Of Deception #1)

Madelaine opened her eyes and rubbed her cheek, which throbbed as if just freshly hit.

She could see her parents standing before her as if time had not moved forward a single second, minute, hour or day.

Father grabbing Mother’s arm as she raised it to strike again, and Mother’s stricken face before she fled the room—those memories never faded.

Abby and her mother had scurried off to the kitchen when Father had commanded them to go.

Madelaine had crawled into bed early that night and prayed things would be better on the morrow, but the next day her parents barely spoke, and her mother made sure she knew it was all her fault.

Madelaine kneaded her fingers into her aching head. In her heart, she didn’t believe her father betrayed her mother, nor was she sure he had really loved her. What was he doing all those times he was gone? Was a glimmer of the truth here in this paper?

Her pulse raced as she read the next two lines written by the king’s hand.

“King George III’s personal spies and missions,” she muttered aloud.

Disbelief caused her to laugh nervously .

Head of circle of six– Fifth Duke of Ashdon– mission– deliver message to Nelson regarding the movement of Napoleon’s fleet across the Atlantic.

Dear God! Grey’s brother was a spy, or did this note refer to Grey’s father?

It must have been written before Grey’s father’s death.

Madelaine pressed a hand to her head as her thoughts spun.

The circle of six held no meaning for her, but if Grey’s father had been a spy that could explain why Grey had been held at arm’s length all his life.

She became excited thinking of how happy Grey would be to know his father really had loved him and had only tried to protect him, but then she remembered she had to avoid Grey, and even if she did see him at Court, it wasn’t as if she could tell him what she knew.

Unless —All the air in her lungs swooshed out in a rush. Did he already know? Was he a spy as well? The paper crumpled as she curled her fingers into a fist. Her blood rushed to her temples. Had Grey lied to her?

Flashes of his injuries skimmed through her thoughts.

Cuts, scrapes, and fresh scars that seemed too harsh for a mere equerry filled her with doubt.

She couldn’t consider that he might have lied.

Because if he was the king’s man, then did that mean he had used her to get to her father?

Ruthlessly, she shoved the doubt away and hugged herself.

Yet the doubt was relentless, like a driving rain that wouldn’t let up.

It bore into her, chilling her skin and froze her all the way through.

Gulping, she forced herself to look at the paper once again.

Her heart pounded as she read each line while holding her breath and praying she’d not see Grey’s name, yet praying she’d find answers.

Her hopes rose as she read through the names and the missions—Lord Gravenhurst and Grey’s brother were on the list with missions by their names, but Grey was not mentioned. The next name caused her to bite down hard on her lip, her stomach pitching.

She blinked, yet the name was still there. Her father was a spy for the king. Had he always been? It explained his long absences and why he could never tell Mother where he was or what he was doing. How horrible for Mother and him. Madelaine groaned.

Her parents had barely stood a chance at happiness with this secret between them.

Maybe her willful ways had been one thing too many between her parents.

She had to make amends for her part in driving her parents apart.

She had to do her Father’s bidding and trust him.

Didn’t she? Doubt warred within her. The king believed he could depend on her father, and her father was betraying the king.

Instinct made her want to know more, but what would she do if what she learned made her think her father was wrong?

Could she still do what he demanded? It was better to never know, to not have to decide.

A scratching noise behind her made her jump.

Whirling around, she grabbed the taper off the shelf.

Light flickered in front of her, illuminating the distance from her to the stairs.

There was no one there, yet her skin prickled.

How long before Grey caught up with her, or worse his brother or Lord Gravenhurst?

She might be able to convince Grey of her innocence, but his brother and Lord Gravenhurst wouldn’t listen to a word she said, especially since she’d wounded Grey’s brother.

And then another thought struck. Somewhere out there was a murderer and it wasn’t her father.

Fear stilled her breathing altogether. She listened to the silence.

A clanking, as if a bottle had been tipped over, resounded. Every instinct she possessed urged her to flee but first she needed the money her father had hidden. She snatched the bottle up, expecting to find money in it, but the bottle was empty.

Her hands flew from bottle to bottle in search of the money as her heart slammed painfully, making her chest ache.

She tried to calm herself, to order her thoughts, but it was impossible as fear clawed its way up her insides and choked her.

Her hands shook. She could hardly grasp the bottles.

In the blackness, she could have sworn she heard a man’s voice.

Wildly, she gazed around at the shadows, the walls, the hundreds of bottles. Were the walls closer, the shadows darker, the bottles multiplying? She jerked away from the shelf desperate to run upstairs to the open space and light.

Her shoulder bumped a bottle on the edge of the shelf as she turned.

The bottle teetered before toppling to the ground.

Shards flew and crackled on impact with the hard floor.

To her left, the distinct sound of feet shuffling pierced through her fear.

An icy chill coursed down her spine. Automatically, she lifted her boot to get the dagger she’d stolen.

She felt around for where she’d made a slit on the outside of her boot for it, and then froze.

Her heart plunged. Damnation. She’d left the dagger buried in Grey’s brother’s shoulder.