Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 147 - Hundred And Forty Seven

Ines was sitting on the edge of the bed, carefully unwrapping the linen strips from Carcel’s hand, when the silence was broken.

"My lady, are you awake?" Edith’s voice came from the other side of the door. It was soft, hesitant, but persistent.

Ines froze. She looked at Carcel. He was sitting up, his back against the headboard, still gloriously, improperly shirtless. The bruises on his chest were darkening to a mix of purple and yellow.

"Come in, Edith," Ines called out. Edith was already part of the conspiracy.

The door handle turned, and Edith slipped inside. She was carrying a fresh ceramic bowl of steaming water and a roll of clean cotton strips.

"I brought fresh water for the—" Edith began, her eyes focused on the bowl in her hands to keep it steady.

Then, she looked up.

She saw Ines peeling the bloody bandage away from the Duke’s knuckles. She saw the Duke of Carleton sitting in Lady Hamilton’s bed, his chest bare, his hair tousled, looking like a Greek statue that had been in a prize fight.

Edith gasped. The water in the bowl sloshed dangerously. She spun around so fast her skirts whipped against her ankles, presenting her back to them.

"I’m sorry, My Lady!" Edith squeaked, her face turning as red as a strawberry. "I’m sorry, Your Grace! I didn’t know... I mean, I knew he was here, but I didn’t know he was... unclothed!"

Carcel let out a low, amused chuckle, though it turned into a wince as his bruised ribs protested.

Ines smiled, continuing her work on Carcel’s hand. "It’s okay, Edith. You are also a nurse, remember? Nurses see a lot of things."

Edith kept her back turned, staring fixedly at the doorframe. "I am not sure I am qualified for this sort of nursing, My Lady."

"You are doing fine," Ines reassured her. "But I need you to do something else for me. It is urgent."

Edith straightened her spine, grateful for a task that didn’t involve looking at a half-naked Duke. "Anything, My Lady."

"Help me go and ask Mr. Simmons if he has received a package yet," Ines instructed.

Edith glanced over her shoulder, then quickly looked away again. "A package? At this hour?"

Ines nodded, though Edith couldn’t see her. "Yes. Before I fell asleep, I sent a letter to Carcel’s aide. I told him to send a new pair of clothing as a parcel to me. It should be arriving by private courier any moment now."

It was a lie, of course. Carcel’s "aide" was actually Mr. Vance, and the message had been sent via a signal Carcel had left on the balcony railing before he collapsed. But Edith didn’t need to know about spy craft.

"Help me collect it," Ines continued. "And bring it here immediately. We cannot have the Duke leaving my house in muddy trousers and a torn shirt."

"Of course," Edith said.

"And Edith?" Ines added.

"Yes, My Lady?"

"Tell the kitchen to prepare a light breakfast for two," Ines said casually. "Tell them I’m really hungry. Tell them I have a ravenous appetite this morning and I want double portions of everything. Eggs, toast, ham, fruit."

Edith paused. Asking for two breakfasts was suspicious, but claiming a sudden hunger was a clever cover.

"I will tell them you are famished," Edith agreed. "I will be back shortly."

Edith hurried out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

Ines turned back to Carcel.

"Ravenous?" Carcel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You need to eat," Ines said simply. "You lost your strength last night. If you pass out on me again, I am leaving you on the floor."

Carcel smiled. "You are cruel, Lady Hamilton."

"I am practical," she corrected.

She dipped a clean cloth into the water Edith had brought. She gently wiped his knuckles, cleaning away the last of the dried blood. The skin was angry and red, but the swelling had gone down slightly.

"This will sting," she warned.

She applied a fresh layer of the herbal ointment. Carcel didn’t flinch this time. He just watched her face. He watched the way her brow furrowed in concentration. He watched the way her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks.

"You are very good at this," he murmured. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

"I had a good teacher," Ines replied, wrapping the clean cotton strips around his hand. She tied it off neatly. "Edith gave excellent instructions."

She moved to his ribs. She checked the bruises again, her fingers light as a feather.

"Nothing feels broken," she diagnosed. "Just battered."

"I have had worse," Carcel dismissed.

"Not for me, you haven’t," Ines said softly. She looked at his chest, at the physical proof of his devotion. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, right above the bandage. "Thank you."

Carcel’s breath hitched. He reached out with his good hand and cupped her cheek.

"For you," he whispered, "I would take a thousand hits."

The door opened again.

Ines pulled back quickly. Edith bustled in, carrying a large brown parcel under one arm and a tray of food in the other.

"The package arrived, My Lady," Edith announced, looking relieved that Carcel was at least partially covered by the bedsheets now. "Mr. Simmons was confused, but I told him it was fabric samples for your wedding dress."

"Brilliant," Ines said, standing up. "Put the food on the table, Edith. And give me the parcel."

Edith set the tray down—the smell of bacon and fresh bread filled the room—and handed the package to Ines.

"Thank you, Edith. That will be all."

Edith curtsied and left.

Ines tore open the paper. Inside was a fresh white shirt, a crisp cravat, a dark waistcoat, and a clean black coat. Mr. Vance was efficient.

"Up you get," Ines ordered.

Carcel slid out of bed. He stood up, stretching his stiff limbs. He towered over her, broad and imposing even with his bandages.

Ines picked up the shirt. She held it open for him.

Carcel slipped his arms into the sleeves. He hissed slightly as the fabric pulled against his sore shoulder.

"Careful," Ines murmured.

Carcel nodded.

"Priscilla is going to expose me at the Masquerade Ball," Ines said suddenly. The thought had been nagging at her all morning.

She moved around to his front. She began to do up the buttons. Her fingers worked from his waist up to his neck. It was an intimate task, standing so close she could feel his body heat.

Carcel looked down at her.

"Why do you think so?" he asked. His voice was calm, contrasting with her worry.

Ines finished buttoning the shirt and picked up his cravat. She draped it around his neck.

"It’s the best place to ruin someone’s

reputation," Ines replied, tying the intricate knot with practiced hands. "Everyone in London will be in attendance. Even the Queen. If she exposes me there... in front of Her Majesty... there is no coming back from that. It is total destruction."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with anxiety. "She wants to make an example of me."

Carcel had finished wearing his shirt. He shrugged on the waistcoat, wincing slightly but hiding it well. He looked at Ines. He saw the fear she was trying to hide.

"Then it will be the perfect location for her own undoing," Carcel said. His voice was hard as steel.

He reached out and smoothed the lapels of his waistcoat. He looked like the Duke again.

"She thinks the Queen’s presence is her weapon," Carcel explained. "But it is ours. The Queen hates scandal, yes. But she hates liars more. When Priscilla stands up and presents that diary... when she presents the lies we fed her... she will be the one insulting the Crown."

Ines nodded slowly. She trusted his plan. But there was one other worry eating at her.

"Rowan is coming back soon," Ines spoke, her voice quiet. "He said he would be back for the ball. I’m afraid he might hear some rumors. Priscilla has been whispering in ears all week. If Rowan hears that..."

She bit her lip. "Rowan is hot-headed. If he thinks I am in trouble, he might do something rash."

Carcel smiled gently. He reached out and touched Ines’s cheek, his thumb brushing over her soft skin.

"Rowan trusts you," Carcel spoke with absolute conviction. "He has known you since the day you were born. He knows your character. I believe he won’t listen to anyone who speaks against his sister."

Ines leaned into his touch. "He is very protective."

"He is," Carcel agreed. He chuckled, a low, warm sound. "You know he loves you. More than I could ever love you."

Ines looked at him, surprised by the joke.

Carcel Anderson, the cold Duke, making a joke about his own heart?

"That is not true," Ines said, smiling for the first time that morning.

"Perhaps not," Carcel admitted, his eyes darkening with emotion. "But he certainly thinks he does. And because he loves you, he will stand by you. When the moment comes, Rowan will be standing right next to me, ready to defend you."

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was a lingering kiss, a seal of protection.

"We just have to lay low till the masquerade ball," Carcel said, pulling back to look her in the eyes. " We prepare ourselves for the fight ahead."

Ines nodded. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight, careful of his ribs. She buried her face in his clean shirt, smelling the starch and the faint scent of him.

"We will be ready," she promised.

Carcel held her for a moment longer, soaking in her strength. Then he stepped back.

"Now," he said, looking at the tray of food Edith had left. "Let us eat your ’ravenous’ breakfast. I find that fighting kidnappers has given me quite an appetite."