by Darcy Burke
“Given the debacle of my wedding, I’m not sure it matters.”
“People don’t blame you. Chamberlain is being transported, for heaven’s sake.”
Anne had been delighted when she’d heard that. He’d extorted several people, including Anthony, threatening to expose their most dearly held secrets—truths that would ruin and destroy them. In Anthony’s case, he’d gone public with his in order to bring Gilbert down, to save Anne from marrying him. She could never thank him enough.
“Good riddance,” Anne muttered. She abruptly stood. “I’m going out to the garden.”
Jane also rose. “You know I’ll do anything you need? You have only to ask.”
“I do.” Anne gave her a reassuring smile. “Thank you for inviting me to stay with you.”
“Not stay with us, live with us. You don’t ever have to leave.”
Perhaps not, but Anne didn’t want to be the spinster sister who had no life of her own. Which meant she had to find a life of her own.
Anne left the sitting room and descended to the first floor. From there, she continued down the grand staircase to the ground floor. As she reached the staircase hall, she glimpsed a figure standing in the entry hall. At first, she thought it was Tabor, the butler, given the blond hair, but something about the man’s form made her stop.
Pivoting, she crept toward the entry hall in curiosity as the man turned to face her.
A gasp sprang from her lips, and her eyes widened. “Lord Bodyguard,” she breathed.
One of his blond brows arched as her shock was reflected back at her in his cobalt gaze. “Mrs. Dazzling.”
The sight of him made her chest constrict. He was almost unbearably handsome in a green coat and buff breeches, his pristine white cravat nestled beneath the strong, familiar line of his jaw.
“How did you find me?” She sounded quite breathless.
“I didn’t. Not on purpose anyway. I am here to see Lord Colton. He is your…?”
“Brother-in-law.”
His jaw actually dropped, or so she thought. It happened so quickly that she doubted what she’d seen.
“So you don’t know who I am?” she asked.
“I do now.”
“Then you are in a better position than I since I shall still have to call you Lord Bodyguard.”
“Mr. Bowles?” Tabor came into the hall behind Anne.
Mr. Bowles. Anne searched her brain for the name and came up wanting. Why was he here to see Anthony? She had so many questions, and none of them would be answered. Frustration churned in her gut.
“I do hope I’ll see you again, Mr. Bowles,” she said softly as he came toward her.
His gaze found hers with a dark intensity that infused her with heat. “The pleasure will be mine.”
Anne watched as he followed Tabor toward Anthony’s study. She longed to spy on them, but there was simply no way to do so. Overwhelmed with nervous energy, she stalked to the morning room and out to the garden. The day was bright and warm, but she had no appreciation for any of the flowers or birds or anything else. Her mind was wholly owned by Mr. Bowles and the fact that he was here.
Who was he to Anthony? And what had he meant when he’d said he knew who she was now? Something about the way he’d uttered the words had made her heart beat a tick faster.
Did he simply know her name, or was he also aware of her engagement and aborted wedding? She stalked around the path of the garden, growing angry again that Gilbert had turned out to be such a horrid person and that his behavior had unfairly blemished her.
Coming back to the start of her circuit, she stopped and stared at the door to the morning room. She wanted to go inside and barge into Anthony’s study. Once there, she’d drag Mr. Bowles…where? She didn’t care. She just wanted answers. She wanted to reclaim the connection they’d shared, because she’d felt so awfully alone.
And perhaps she wanted another kiss. Or ten.
Hell. It seemed she may not have fallen out of love with him after all.
Chapter 2
Rafe’s body thrummed with anticipation. He needed to focus on why he’d come to see Colton. Instead, he was consumed with thoughts of Mrs. Dazzling—no, Miss Anne Bloody Pemberton. He knew precisely who she was. Just as he’d known her betrothed. Never would Rafe have imagined the poor woman whose wedding had been interrupted by the arrest of her groom was his Mrs. Dazzling.
His?
“I shouldn’t be surprised to see you,” Colton said, standing near the hearth, his elbow resting on the dark wood mantel. “And yet I am. I wondered if you would ever come calling.” He gestured to the pair of chairs situated in front of the cold, dark fireplace. There was no need for additional warmth on this fine summer day.
Rafe took one of the chairs, high-backed, dark blue velvet with arms. Colton sat in the other.
The viscount looked far more relaxed than Rafe had ever seen him. His blue eyes held a warmth that hadn’t been there before his marriage to Miss Jane Pemberton.
Mrs. Dazzling’s bloody sister. Rafe still couldn’t believe it was her.
“Congratulations on your marriage,” Rafe said.
“Thank you.” Colton’s tone was wry. “I presume you’ve come to claim the favor I owe you.”
“Yes. Rather than a list of people I’d like to meet, there is just one man—the Earl of Stone.”
Colton pressed his lips together and flattened his back against the chair. “I don’t know him very well. I am, however, acquainted with his son, the Viscount Sandon. He’s just recently returned from his family’s estate in Ireland.”
“I need to meet Stone. Preferably at his house south of London.”
Colton’s dark brows arched briefly. “Ivy Grove?” He tipped his head to the side. “You want me to obtain an invitation for you to Ivy Grove to meet Lord Stone. Do you realize how difficult that is?”
“I do.” He didn’t, actually, but he could imagine. “Can you manage it?”
Stroking his jaw, Colton let out a breath. “Stone likes to entertain. He’s quite proud of that estate. I can try to put a word in Sandon’s ear—suggest his father should host something to welcome him home from Ireland.”
“You’re making this sound not that hard at all.”
A dark laugh bolted from the viscount. “My suggestion could go absolutely nowhere. It’s nearly the end of the Season. It may very well be too late.”
“I appreciate you trying. You’ll keep me apprised?”
Colton nodded. “I’ll hunt him down at Brooks’s later.” He eyed Rafe, his gaze sweeping over him from boot to brow. “Will you be seeking entry to one of the clubs?”
Rafe had considered it. He was only concerned with establishing business connections. He’d recently invested in a publishing venture and was about to embark on a property scheme. He planned to build housing for the labor class. Good housing that people deserved instead of the hovels that many lived in. “Perhaps. Are you offering to recommend me?”
“That would be a second favor.”
“Or something you would do for a friend.”
Colton leaned forward, a spark lighting his gaze. “You think we’re friends after all that’s gone on between us?”
“I loaned you money, and you paid me back.” A current of energy ran through Rafe. He rested his right elbow on the arm of the chair. “I thought we’d resolved the issue of your parents. I never wanted them—or you—to be killed.”
Colton had borrowed the funds to settle debts and had continued to gamble. He’d also continued to lose, and he hadn’t repaid his loan in the timeframe they’d agreed upon.
At the time, Rafe had certain employees whose responsibility was to collect outstanding debts such as Colton’s. In this instance, the employee had taken it upon himself to do more than apply pressure to the debtor. He’d killed Colton’s parents on the way to their country estate. Colton was supposed to have been the one on the road that day, and Rafe’s employee was to remind him—in plain terms—of his finan
cial obligations. Instead, he’d committed murder.
“Perhaps it was resolved for you,” Colton said quietly. “For me, it will never be.”
“I do understand.” Rafe turned his head toward the hearth. “I lost my parents when I was very young.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. He didn’t reveal things about himself.
So why had he now? He looked back to Colton. Was Rafe truly looking for a friend?
No. He was simply…raw. He was close to finding out who his parents were, and he bloody well needed Colton.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Colton said.
Inhaling, Rafe returned to the matter they’d been discussing. “I don’t need you to recommend me to a club. Just the invitation to Ivy Grove, please.”
“Just that,” Colton said sardonically. “You seem to be doing well for yourself. I’m sorry we weren’t able to attend the ball for your sister.”
“No need to apologize. It was, I suppose, quite a crush.” Rafe winced inwardly—he sounded like a pompous ass. No, he sounded like a Society gentleman.
“The Vicar is in the past, then?” Colton asked, provoking a twitch between Rafe’s shoulder blades.
“Completely. I have no desire to resurrect him.”
Rafe wanted to ask if Colton’s wife knew, and if so, whether she would tell her sister, but that would invite too many questions. Not that it mattered if Anne—hell, he was already first-naming her—rather, Miss Pemberton knew who he was. It wasn’t as if they had a future together.
Rising, Rafe straightened his waistcoat. “Thank you for your time and assistance.”
“I’m only helping you because I owe you for finding the man who was extorting me.” Colton stood. “Without your assistance, Chamberlain would not have been arrested.”
Colton had come to Rafe thinking the Vicar was the one extorting him. The note the viscount had received had threatened to expose his gambling debts and the fact that those debts had led to the deaths of his parents. Colton had naturally believed it was Rafe since he knew about the debts and, as the Vicar, was engaged in enterprises that pushed the boundaries of legality. But while Rafe had lent money at illegally high rates, owned receiver shops, and had once been the right hand of one of the most powerful criminals in East London, he never engaged in extortion.
Rafe had conducted his own investigation and found Chamberlain, a man of questionable morals who delivered gentlemen in need of loans to the Vicar, responsible. After informing Colton, the viscount had done what was necessary—exposing his transgressions—to ensure Bow Street arrested Chamberlain.
And in so doing, he’d saved Anne from marrying the blackguard. A wave of anger rushed over Rafe. He knew Chamberlain to be driven by avarice and vanity. When Rafe thought of Anne married to him, he felt an irrational need to go to Newgate and beat the man to a pulp before they transported him across the world.
“Chamberlain is a scoundrel,” Rafe said coldly. “You did everyone a great service by ensuring he was arrested, especially your sister-in-law.”
Colton’s brow pleated. “You heard about that?”
“Everyone heard about that.”
“I suppose so. While I’m glad Anne wasn’t trapped into marriage with him, she hasn’t had an easy time of it. Her reputation is still stained, I’m afraid.”
Rafe hated hearing that. “None of what happened was her fault.”
“I know.” Colton’s gaze was pained.
Rafe could see the man carried guilt about that too. “Surely things will get better.” Or not—Rafe had no notion how Society worked. The more he learned, which wasn’t much, the less he understood.
“I hope so. The Season is almost over, and perhaps by next year, people will have forgotten, or at least decide to be kind where Anne is concerned.” Colton sent him a curious stare. “I appreciate your…concern about her.”
Fuck. Rafe didn’t want to draw attention to that of all things. “I was merely being polite. I look forward to hearing from you about Stone.”
Colton nodded, and Rafe took his leave.
Anticipation curled along his nerves as he made his way to the entry hall. His breath caught and held. But she wasn’t there.
Good. He shouldn’t see her again.
Yet, now that he knew who she was and where she lived, would he stay away?
He had to.
The butler opened the door, and Rafe walked outside into the bright afternoon. He turned in the direction of Grosvenor Square, which he would cut through on the way to his house on Upper Brook Street. Dammit, she was far too close.
When he reached the corner of Davies Street, a familiar form in a veil stepped into his path. Far too close indeed.
“Miss Pemberton,” he said, liking the feel of her name on his tongue. Anne would taste even better.
“Mr. Bowles. Shall we take a walk around the square?”
He glanced about. “Do you never have a chaperone?”
“I almost always have a chaperone. Except when I have a bodyguard, if you recall.”
Rafe couldn’t help the smile that stole over his mouth. “Still saucy,” he murmured. “We can’t walk around the square and you”—he stopped himself from saying bloody—sometimes the transition from his old life to his new took great effort—“well know it.”
She exhaled. “I suppose not.” Wrapping her hand around his elbow, she pulled him down Davies Street and into the narrow mews. They stood near the corner of a stable.
Out of view of the street, she removed her hand from his arm and faced him. “Why are you visiting my brother-in-law?”
He wished he could see her face better. He could barely make out the sweep of her jaw and the graceful slope of her nose. Her hazel eyes and delightfully dimpled cheeks were completely obscured.
“I had business to attend.”
She put a hand on her hip. “That’s all you’re going to say? After three months?”
“What does my paying a call on your brother-in-law have to do with the last time we saw each other? I should be interrogating you as to why you failed to keep our appointment to go to Aldersgate Street.”
She tipped her head down and turned it to the side. “I wasn’t able to meet you.”
“Was it because of the kissing?” He shouldn’t have brought that up, but damn him if he wasn’t remembering the press of her lips and every stroke of her tongue. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that. Nor should I have done it in the first place.”
Flipping the veil up over her hat, she gave him a wry look. “You speak as if you were the only person responsible. I was a very willing participant.” Her gaze softened. “I have never forgotten you.”
Seeing her face jolted him back to their wonderful afternoons, provoking an ache. “Not even when you were betrothed?” He hadn’t meant to cause her pain, but to point out that she’d clearly moved on. At the flash of distress in her eyes, he hastened to add, “You did what you must. And you should forget me.” Just as he should forget her.
“Is that what you did?”
“Yes,” he lied.
She notched her chin up. “I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t ask why I didn’t meet you nor would you mention my betrothal if you’d forgotten about me, if you didn’t care.”
Bollocks. He didn’t want to be cruel, but it seemed he must. “I don’t care. You were a passing fancy.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “I did try to forget you. And yes, I became betrothed because that was expected of me. I felt terrible that I wasn’t able to meet you anymore—we were foolish not to share our names. I would have sent word.”
“It wasn’t foolish at all. I have no regrets.” That wasn’t entirely true. He should not have kissed her. Hell, he shouldn’t have done any of it. But she’d captivated him from the moment they’d met. He’d been hungry for something, a connection, perhaps.
“Well, I do,” she said softly, sadness dimming the green parts of her hazel eyes. “I enjoyed our friendship and would hav
e liked for it to continue.”
He heard the hope in her voice and sought to squash it. “We were not friends nor will we be. I took advantage of you, and you were smart to put an end to it.”
“That wasn’t my choice. My chaperone was no longer able to escort me to Hatchard’s, and I couldn’t go alone.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t understand why you’re being cruel. You can deny we were friends or that we shared a connection”—at her use of that word, he twitched—“but you won’t convince me. I was there.” She took a step toward him, bringing them closer than they ought to be.
Even so, he didn’t move.
“Why can’t you at least admit we were friends? Are you angry with me for not meeting you?” She tentatively placed her hand on his chest. “I was devastated when I wasn’t able to. I would have given anything to know who you were so I could find you.”
He considered telling her that he could have easily found her but chose not to. But in the end, he didn’t want to hurt her. “We were…friends. That was in the past, however.”
Her gaze held his as her hand pressed firmly against him. “It doesn’t have to be.”
What the hell was she proposing? Rafe took her hand and pushed it down to her side. “Yes it does. I’m not engaging in an affair with you.”
Her eyes widened, and he realized he’d misunderstood. She wanted…courtship? That was even worse. She pressed her lips together and twisted her mouth as she glanced away. “You think less of me now, just like everyone else.”
Rafe clasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “No. I could never think less of you.”
A glimmer of hope threaded through her features. “I wasn’t asking for an affair—just what I said: friendship. It would be nice to have someone who doesn’t look at me with pity or judgment. You mentioned my betrothal, so you must know what happened.”
“I do,” he said tightly, still considering whether he should go to Newgate and thrash Chamberlain.
His resolve faltered. She only wanted what he’d offered, that he would never think less of her. He released her. “Anne, I can’t be your friend. But I will be a staunch supporter, and if you ever need help, you now know where to find me.”
