"What about Delaney?" Rowan asked.
The question left his lips before he could stop it. The name sounded entirely natural, slipping out with a rough, protective edge. He leaned forward in his large leather chair, his eyes fixed instantly on his brother-in-law.
Carcel raised a dark, perfectly shaped brow. He looked at Rowan with sharp, calculating eyes.
"Delaney?" Carcel repeated. The single word hung in the quiet air, heavy with unspoken questions. Dukes did not call their hired employees by their first names. They certainly did not speak those names with such raw, undisguised concern.
Rowan realized his mistake immediately. He felt a sudden, faint flush of heat rise to his neck. He quickly sat back in his chair and adjusted his collar.
He cleared his throat. The sound was stiff and formal.
"Miss Kingsley," Rowan corrected himself smoothly, forcing his face back into an emotionless, aristocratic mask. "What did your investigator find that concerns Miss Kingsley?"
