by Devon, Eva
“And what is that?” she queried.
“Love does not solve everything.”
“Nor do I expect it to,” she said evenly. “We shall have to do that ourselves and not just rely upon love. After all, you and I are very clever, capable people. Don’t you think that we can manage it?”
“I don’t know,” he confessed.
“Rafe, you’re frightened of something that might never happen.”
“It’s true,” he agreed softly, able to see that much reason. “It might not. But it looms over me like an ax waiting to fall, like the guillotine blade ready to strike.”
“Well, what will you do? Live your life in fear,” she demanded, “and hide your heart away? Is that any better than hiding your body?”
He grimaced. “My God, Penelope, you do go in for the kill.”
She stood up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, but it is true.”
That kiss was a balm to his soul. Soft, gentle, accepting. “My greatest mistake, I think, is having given in to you.”
“Don’t you dare say it,” she said fiercely. “I’ve known such joy with you. I would hate to think you thought that a mistake.”
He paled, realizing what he’d said. “Forgive me.”
“I will always forgive you, Rafe, but I wish you to choose a different life. I wish you to choose to not live in fear, or if you are afraid, then let me help you with it.”
He nodded. “I don’t know that I can do that,” he said. “But I can try.”
“Come,” she urged. “Take me in your arms, Rafe. Isn’t that what you’ve been waiting for anyway?”
“I’ve been waiting to take you back into my arms for weeks,” he said.
“Then, let’s not waste any more time,” she said, her voice full of more passion than ever before.
Chapter 20
Rafe’s insides clenched tight, like a rope that had been winched too hard. The coach rolled up to the front steps of the castle.
It was an immense affair. A sprawling, hodge-podge. Once, it had been meant for actual military defense.
It was as old as the War of the Roses, the original castle having been torn down by the Yorks.
He, of course, had been on the side of the Red Rose, and in the end, the side of the victors. Now, their family was incredibly powerful, having fortified itself for centuries.
There had been traces of oddities in the past.
All great families had them. But, no, it was his father that had truly begun to seem as if they might be sliding off the path of true greatness. He didn’t really wish to address it, and he didn’t know how he was going to introduce her to his father, but he was going to, damn it.
His mother was no doubt going to be horrified, but what else could he do?
Besides, there was the simple fact that he loved his father very much. . . And he wished him to know the woman he’d fallen in love with.
So as the coach rolled to a stop, Rafe swung the door open himself and jumped down onto the raked gravel.
He peered up at the place that had been his once-happy boyhood home.
A place that had given him such joy before he knew the vagaries of life and the way that things could change, before his father had slid into darkness. Its stony gray edifice glared down at him, promising that it would be there for centuries to come.
He wondered if it would, and if the people in it would be of his line. He hoped so; he liked the idea that the people of his family would still be there in two hundred years.
Rafe turned and held out his gloved hand to Penelope, who was staring at the house as if it was a mirage.
“Come, it’s quite drafty, you know?” he teased.
“Drafty or no. . .” She blinked. “To think I might be mistress of it one day. . . I grew up in quite a small country cottage, you know?”
“I do know,” he replied, clinging to the gentle banter between them. “And it wasn’t a cottage. It was at least a manor house, as I understand. Let’s not exaggerate.”
She laughed. “Well, your home is almost a palace.”
“Not a palace,” he said, helping her down. “A palace denotes gold filigree, and I promise you, there’s not a jot of that inside.”
“Indeed?” she teased. “We might have to change that.”
“No,” he countered quickly then laughed. “No fancy French decorations things in my English castle.”
“If you insist,” she said. “But we shall have to make sure that there are at least some very fine cushions.”
“I do like very fine cushions, because I can lay you down upon them.”
She blushed deeply. “Don’t say such a thing. The servants will hear.”
“The servants hear everything, my love,” he informed, something he’d learned from his smallest years as a future duke. It was also why the castle was run by a very loyal few. “They know everything, too.”
She laughed. “I suppose that’s true. I’ve never really given it a great deal of thought.”
“Are you feeling well?” he asked, pulling her gently towards him.
“I feel as well as can be, considering,” she replied, her cheeks a good deal more pink than they had been in days.
And with that, there was a loud voice that called down from the top of the granite steps. “Rafe, what ever are you doing here again so soon?”
“Mama, I’ve come to introduce you to someone,” he said, fighting a wave of apprehension.
Slowly, he turned to meet the woman who had been as steadfast as any rock in a man’s life could be.
“Oh?” she said, more gently now. Though he did not miss the tremor of concern in her voice. “Whoever can it be?”
He took a step forward and brought Penelope with him. “Miss Penelope Finley,” he said. “My future bride and your future daughter-in-law.”
He looked up to his mother, hoping that she would welcome them with open arms. She always welcomed him so, but he knew that this would be a tentative thing.
“You know that you cannot bring her here,” his mother announced, her face turning proverbially white.
“It’s too late,” he said, which is why he hadn’t written ahead of time. He did not wish his mother to avoid this. “I already have.”
“No,” his mother said with fear more than cruelty. “She must go at once.”
Rafe took a step forward, desperate for their lives to change. “Mother, please. For me. You must allow her to come inside.”
“You know that it is a great risk,” his mother said, her hands fluttering with unusual tension. “Anything could disturb—” And then his mother stopped. “Does she know?”
“Yes, Mother,” he said gently. “I’ve told her.”
His mother’s eyes suddenly shone brightly before she blinked rapidly. “That is a great risk. You trust her so much?”
“I do,” he said.
And then his mother’s fear and anxiety seemed to evaporate, replaced by the strong woman she’d always been.
The love he’d known for so many years warmed her face again.
“Then, I must, too,” she said. “Bring her to me.”
Chapter 21
“Will I get to meet him?” Penelope asked suddenly over her perfectly steeped tea.
“My goodness,” Rafe’s mother declared, smoothing a hand down her lavender gown. “By him, I assume you mean Rafe’s father, my husband?”
Penelope gave a small nod. “Yes, that is exactly who I mean, Your Grace. I think it would be good if I could.”
“He hasn’t seen any outsiders in quite some time, and he may not like it,” the duchess warned, surprisingly kind now.
“I shall try to be very gentle,” Penelope promised.
The duchess laughed softly. “My dear girl, he’d devour you alive.”
“You must be yourself,” Rafe said, his lips twitching slightly with mirth. “Mama is correct. He will sense anything else. He doesn’t like being pandered to.”
“
Thank you for warning me,” she said, suddenly nervous.
His mother sipped her tea. “You are to be part of this family, then, despite our oddities?”
Penelope nodded firmly then said, “Rafe has suggested that maybe I should not.”
His mother’s brow furrowed. “Indeed? And what do you think?”
Penelope squared her shoulders and declared, “I love your son, and I would like to be part of this family.”
“It is not an easy, typical family,” his mother said, even as her gaze warmed with approval.
“Rafe was never going to be an easy, typical person,” Penelope returned. “Could any duke be?”
At that, his mother laughed. A genuine, clear-bell sound. “Oh, how right you are. And I’m glad that you know it. Perhaps you are right for this particular family.”
“I think so,” Penelope said.
Rafe looked rueful as he sat on the rather feminine chair. “If anyone can do it, it is she, but I would’ve liked to have spared her, for Penelope is wonderful.”
His mother stilled at that. “My dear, you cannot spare people from love. They love as they do, and you cannot direct it.”
Rafe grimaced. “I often wish that I could have spared you too, Mother.”
“I know, my dear, I know. But it is not your position to spare me. It is my decision.”
“That is exactly what I told him,” Penelope said brightly, feeling a sudden affinity for her soon-to-be mother-in-law.
“Did you, my dear?” the duchess asked. “How very wise for someone so young.”
“Thank you,” Penelope said carefully.
“Well, then,” his mother said. “I don’t think that we should waste any time. I will go up now immediately and tell him that he has a guest, and we’ll see how you do, my dear.”
Penelope nodded, her stomach tightening, but this was exactly what she wanted. So she sat with Rafe, waiting as the duchess left the room.
“What do you think of all this?” he asked.
“Well, it is certainly interesting,” she pointed out. “It’s a castle. It’s cavernous. It’s full of history, all things that I like, but there is definitely a shadow over it.”
He arched a brow. “I warned you about that.”
“So you did, but I don’t think it always has to be like this,” she said.
“Don’t you?” he queried.
She looked about at the tapestry-covered walls and ventured, “Perhaps we could find a way to bring the light in.”
“Penelope, I admire your optimism, but it’s difficult. We’ve been doing this for years, you know.”
She licked her lips. “Of course you have, and I don’t mean to seem presumptuous.”
“But perhaps a new perspective could be helpful,” he finally agreed.
“Thank you,” she said, happy he might give her thoughts a try. “I’d like to believe that I could do something, but we shall see if your father even likes me. Perhaps he will wish me to Hades and back.”
“Oh,” Rafe said with a sigh. “I don’t think even my father would wish you to Hades. He’s never been that sort of person. Even if he wishes to hide, he’s always managed to be relatively polite.”
After several moments, the door opened, and his mother came through. “I’ve told him that you’re here, and he’s demanding to see her immediately since she knows.”
Penelope nodded and put down her teacup.
She swallowed. This was not exactly how she had expected anything to go, but there was no turning back now.
In fact, she was quite glad that it was going to be over sooner rather than later.
She didn’t fancy the idea of having to wait about the castle for days on end while seeing if the old duke would be willing to see her.
So, she followed the duchess out into the hall, Rafe behind her, and they traced their way up the winding stair, which was beautiful and made of dark wood.
They went to the very top of it, until it had narrowed into what one might almost call a servants’ corridor. They reached the attics of the west wing, and it was surprisingly opulent.
Tapestries hung from all of the walls, and there was the soft playing of the piano drifting towards them.
When they came to an ancient door, the duchess slowly opened it.
“In you go, my dear,” the older lady encouraged. “He wishes to see you alone.”
She gave one look at the duchess, hoping for any sign of how this might go, but Rafe’s mother gave nothing away.
Penelope stepped in and waited.
There was a long silence before she spotted the older man sitting across the way.
His white, silver hair fluffed about his head. It was a luxurious mane, reflective of what Rafe’s hair would likely look like in a few years.
In fact, he looked like an older version of Rafe in almost every single way. From his strong features to his angular jaw, he resembled his son. Even his broad shoulders and the slight play of his lips were a mirror.
She had a feeling that he had been an exceptionally handsome young man in his day, perhaps even a rake himself before he’d met his wife, the woman he so loved.
The duke turned away from the piano and met her gaze. “So, you’re going to take Rafe on. . . And me.”
She didn’t quite know what to say to that, so she smiled and took another step into the room. “It’s nice to meet you, Your Grace, and yes, I plan to marry your son, which does, of course, mean that you and I shall be related.”
“And you’re not shocked?” he challenged gruffly.
“I was shocked at first,” she began honestly. “I won’t lie. After all, your son has been calling himself the Duke of Royland. And to do that—”
Her soon-to-be father-in-law cut in, “I must be dead, of course.”
“Exactly,” she agreed. “So when he told me, it did astonish me, but I was also glad.”
“Glad?” he barked. “How could you possibly be glad that my son is not the duke and that I am still alive?”
“For that very reason, sir.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, Your Grace. You see, I’ve lost one parent, and it’s a difficult thing. I was relieved for Rafe that he had yet to lose you, and he does seem to love you a great deal.”
The old duke fidgeted then, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I love the boy dearly, you know? And it’s kind of you to say that he loves me. I sometimes wonder that I’ve been too great a burden on him and to my wife.”
“Your Grace, you cannot help how you feel or what you need,” she said factually.
“That’s a damn easy thing for you to say,” he bit out.
“But isn’t it the truth?” she asked.
He winced before he looked away. “It is the truth, my dear. I can’t deny it either. I’ve tried many, many times to overcome the feelings that I have, but every time that I do, it just washes over me, and I feel as if I’ve entered a dark well. And so the best thing to do is—”
“To stay in here,” she offered. “Do not deny your nature. I think it’s very difficult, when we try to deny our nature,” she added.
She thought of how she had briefly thought of trying to deny hers and to become a society woman who cared nothing except for her title and the money which would sustain her. She wouldn’t have cared if Rafe was poor.
He would have been the man that she wanted.
“Well, then,” he said. “You’ll keep my secret?”
“Of course I will,” she said, taking another step into his sanctum. “It’s not my secret to tell.”
Silence fell between them then, and she wished to know more of him, so she blurted, “Do you read?”
He laughed again. “Dear girl, it’s about the only thing I do besides play the piano.”
“I don’t play the piano, but I read a great deal also,” she said. “Perhaps we could read together?”
“I suppose we could,” he ventured softly.
“I also am writing a great deal,” she said impulsively, twining her fingers tog
ether.
“Are you, by God?”
“Yes. I quite like it, and I was thinking perhaps you would look at some of my essays. Do you approve of that?”
“And what if I said no?” he countered, his brows rising in challenge.
“I don’t think you will, because of what we just discussed,” she said boldly. “You know that it would be in my nature, and it would be unkind to deny it.”
“My goodness, young lady,” he replied. “I do admire your spirit and your daring. Yes. I would like that very much. As soon as you can, show me anything that you have written, and I would be happy to offer my opinion. You should submit it to my son’s news sheet under Anonymous.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. If you like it, I will.”
He let out a bark of laughter again. “The two of you together, eh? Against the world?”
“Not against the world, Your Grace.” She drew in a relieved breath. “For the world.”
His humor dimmed then, and he leveled her with a hard stare. “Do you truly think you can do it, then?” he asked.
“I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “Do what, Your Grace?”
“Be married to a man like me,” he said with all seriousness. “Because Rafe is a great deal like me, you know? And there’s always the chance that one day. . .”
“You seem like a rather lovely person, Your Grace.” She declared her thoughts without bravado. “I don’t see how it could be a hardship to be married to you.”
“It is a great hardship,” he countered with no self-pity. “My wife has suffered immensely, and it breaks my heart that I have done that to her. I would’ve given her happiness if I could, but I can’t. I can only give her the man that I am. Not the man that I wished that I was.”
“I don’t think that she’d wish you to be anything but who you are.”
“Oh, she would. She would never say it, but there are days when she wishes that I would still go out into society with her, but I can’t. God, I wish I could.”
“She seems happy in her decision,” Penelope reminded, for surely, he knew how deeply his wife loved him.
His eyes softened. “You seem very optimistic. Has sadness not touched you?”
“Your Grace, I confess,” she said gently as her throat tightened, “I have known a little bit. My mother died when I was young, but that is all. And she died when I was so small that I don’t remember her. My life has been largely one of good fortune, and so I cannot, unfortunately, understand you.”
