by Darcy Burke
“You called me Anne.” The hint of a smile lifted the corner of her lush, utterly kissable mouth. “That’s what friends do. So I’m afraid you can’t stop what’s already happened. We’re friends.”
Rafe nearly laughed. He wanted to. God, this slip of a woman who had to be ten years younger than him had neatly inserted himself into his mind—into his life—in a way no one else had.
Perhaps not no one else. And look how that had ended. That Anne had somehow entered the same realm Eliza had once inhabited was both shocking and horrifying.
“I don’t deserve to be your friend, Miss Pemberton, and the sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.” He turned from her and caught the whisper of her answer on the summer breeze.
“You made me happy.”
Rafe stalked from the mews and didn’t look back.
Anne hadn’t slept well last night. Now that she knew who Lord Bodyguard was, it took a great deal of effort not to pay him a call. Or invite him to Aldersgate Street. Or kiss him.
He was exactly as she recalled—tall, golden-haired, incomparably handsome even with that scar slashing his chin and lip. Perhaps because of it. He exuded a raw masculinity that no other man she’d met in London possessed.
And he wanted nothing to do with her.
Unless she needed help. Then she could call on him. Perhaps she ought to find some trouble. What could she do that would require his help?
Magazine Day was in a week. She still wanted to attend, and surely he wouldn’t want her to go alone… Pfft. That didn’t qualify as needing assistance.
“Why are you scowling?” Jane strolled into the morning room where Anne was drinking a cup of coffee. And fixating on Mr. Bowles. What was his first name? She wanted to know, particularly since he knew hers—and had used it.
“My coffee is cold.”
“And that provokes a scowl?” Jane chuckled. “I thought we might go out later.”
“Where?” Anne asked skeptically. Jane had redoubled her efforts to get Anne out of the house, but what was the point when half of Society treated her like a pariah and the other half shook their heads at her in pity?
“Anywhere. The park? Bond Street? Hatchard’s? I know how much you like it there.”
“Pardon me.” Purcell, Anthony’s butler, stepped into the morning room. He inclined his salt-and-pepper head slightly. “Lord Stone is here.”
Anne wasn’t sure if she felt pleased or bothered. She loved her godfather, but he’d become quite interested in meddling with her life since her parents had left town following Gilbert’s arrest, sending countless letters asking after her welfare and how he might provide assistance.
“We’ll meet him in the drawing room,” Jane said. When Purcell left, Jane narrowed her eyes at Anne. “I thought you liked your godfather.”
“I do. Very much.” In some ways, she liked him more than her actual father. And while he was being meddlesome, he at least did so in a way that was less autocratic and awful than their father.
Jane smoothed the turned-up lace trim on the sleeve of her gown. “At least you have someone who cares for your welfare.”
Anne felt instantly contrite. Because of a false rumor started about Jane five years ago, she’d never been successful on the Marriage Mart. And their parents, particularly their father, hadn’t let her forget it.
She shot Jane an apologetic look. “I’m sorry you no longer have godparents.” They’d died several years ago, and there was no point mentioning their parents. They’d all but disowned Jane when she’d declared her spinsterhood, despite the fact that she’d since wed a viscount. Never mind she was also quite deliriously happy.
“Come, let us meet the earl.” Jane preceded Anne from the morning room, and Anne dutifully followed her upstairs to the drawing room.
As they entered the large chamber that overlooked Grosvenor Street below, Stone turned from the windows, a broad smile lighting his blue eyes. His light brown hair formed a widow’s peak, which perhaps contributed to the length of his face, along with the cleft in his chin. He was rather tall and still boasted a fit form, despite being in his early fifties.
“My dear Anne,” he said, looking to Anne before glancing at Jane. “Lady Colton.”
“It’s a pleasure to welcome you, Lord Stone.” Jane gestured toward the seating arrangement near the windows. “Shall we sit?”
Anne went to her godfather and pressed a kiss to his cheek as he embraced her fondly. “How lovely of you to visit.”
“Since you keep declining my invitations to dinner and have not invited me to visit, I decided to take matters into my own hands.” He sat in a chair after Anne and Jane occupied a small settee.
A tremor of unease wended its way through Anne. She hoped he just meant coming to see her but feared it was more than that. “I’m so glad you did.”
“Did you know Sandon is back in town?” the earl asked.
“Yes, Jane mentioned he was at a picnic last week.” Anne hadn’t wanted to accompany her.
“Ah, yes, of course.” He smiled at Jane, then pursed her lips at Anne. “I take it you weren’t there? But of course not. You haven’t gone anywhere. You mustn’t become a hermit, my dear. It only exacerbates the situation.”
And that certainly made her feel better. “The Season is almost over. I don’t think it matters if I go out. Next year will be here soon enough.” Maybe by then, the thought of going to a Society event wouldn’t make her stomach churn.
“Good afternoon,” Anthony said as he entered the drawing room. He stalked straight toward them and nodded toward the earl. “Lord Stone, welcome.” Anthony sat in another chair angled near the settee.
“Afternoon, Colton. I was just telling your sister-in-law that it’s past time she reenter Society. I’d like to host a dinner—nothing too large or overdone. It will be the perfect thing to show everyone that she is still the celebrated young woman who captivated everyone this Season.”
Not everyone. At least not permanently. Why wasn’t Bowles interested in continuing their friendship? Anne told herself to pay attention and stop thinking about him.
Jane looked to her husband. “I don’t know if you recall—or if I ever told you, actually—but Lord Stone is Anne’s godfather.”
“I don’t think I knew that.” Anthony cocked his head to the side. “A dinner would be nice, but it’s summer now, and the Season is almost over. An event at Ivy Grove would be enchanting.”
Why was he encouraging this? Anne narrowed her eyes at her brother-in-law.
He failed to notice. “Perhaps a picnic or a soiree—as you said, nothing overly large.”
Stone nodded. “Capital idea. We’ll celebrate Sandon’s return to London.” He cast a grin toward Anne. “And reintroduce Anne in the meantime. This is a wonderful plan!”
No, it wasn’t. It was terrible. Anne stared pleadingly at Jane, who pressed her lips together in a brief frown and shot a glance at Anthony, who again seemed not to notice.
“I wonder if I might suggest someone for the guest list,” Anthony said. “I’ve recently made the acquaintance of Mr. Bowles, a fascinating gentleman new to London.”
Anne sat up straighter. Perhaps it wouldn’t be terrible after all.
“Oh, yes,” Jane said, prompting Anne to look over at her again. Now she was helping? And why? What did she know about Bowles? Anne felt a moment’s panic.
“Mr. Bowles has two sisters with whom I’ve become acquainted, Lady Rockbourne and Mrs. Sheffield.”
Anne blinked. They were members of the Spitfire Society, the club Jane had formed with her friends Phoebe and Arabella, which had become a philanthropic association with well over a dozen members now. And they were his sisters? He’d been so close all this time.
“I’ll write their names for your list,” Jane offered. She rose and went to a writing desk in the corner.
Lord Stone smiled after her. “Yes, a picnic. This will be splendid. I’ll send the invitations immediately so we can have the event as s
oon as possible—Friday, I think.”
“So soon?” Anne asked. As much as she wanted a chance to see Bowles, that was awfully fast to plan and execute an event.
The earl waved his hand. “Bah. Plenty of time, and people will adjust their plans to come. I haven’t entertained at Ivy Grove this Season.” He smiled confidently. Perhaps even overly so. He’d always been a touch arrogant. Anne accepted that as part of who he was.
“We’ll look forward to it,” Anthony said with a smile.
Anne was torn between wanting to throw something at Anthony’s head and thanking him for inviting Mr. Bowles. She could do neither, of course.
Jane returned and handed Anne’s godfather a folded piece of parchment. “Here you are. Thank you for inviting them. I don’t know if Lord and Lady Rockbourne will come, but it’s kind of you to include them.”
“Ah yes, an…odd situation.” Stone rose as he tucked the paper into his coat pocket. “They will be quite welcome if they decide to come. Best to put all of that Chamberlain family nonsense behind us.”
Nonsense? They were a loathsome pair of siblings. Gilbert was about to be transported for extortion, and his sister, the former Lady Rockbourne, had orchestrated the vile rumor about Jane five years ago in order to steer Rockbourne to court her instead of Jane. It had worked, and Miss Dorothea Chamberlain had become the Viscountess Rockbourne. She’d died just a few weeks ago after falling from their balcony. The viscount, father to their young child, had remarried quickly. That was perhaps odd, but the new Lady Rockbourne—their friend Beatrix—was lovely.
She was also Lord Bodyguard’s sister.
Anne still couldn’t believe how their circles intersected, and yet they hadn’t met. What if they had done so weeks ago, before she’d met Gilbert Chamberlain? It didn’t bear thinking about.
Anne, Jane, and Anthony also stood. Stone took Anne’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m so glad to have you back in Society. All the unpleasantness is behind you now. Who knows, perhaps on Friday you’ll meet the man who will truly become your husband.” He waggled his brows at Anne.
Bloody hell, he wanted her to engage in courtship again? She clenched her jaw and smiled tightly. “Who knows?”
He laughed as he let her hand go. Bidding them good afternoon, he took his leave.
“I’m sorry, Anne,” Jane said. “I know you don’t want to go, let alone have the earl try to matchmake.” She glowered at Anthony. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” His dark brows drew together. “You’re the one who’s been telling me Anne should get out.”
Jane darted a glance toward Anne but answered Anthony. “For a stroll in the park or to go shopping, not to a picnic.”
“But you tried to get her to go to the picnic last week.” Anthony shook his head and muttered, “I do not understand women.”
“I’m standing right here,” Anne said. “While I would have preferred that hadn’t happened the way it did, there’s nothing to be done now.” Not when Bowles was going to be there. Assuming he accepted the invitation. Oh, he had to! There was a Spitfire Society meeting tomorrow at the Spitfire house in Cavendish Square, which was now occupied by Mr. Bowles’s sister, Selina. Beatrix would likely be there too, and Anne could encourage them, along with their brother, to come to Ivy Grove.
If that came to pass, if Lord Bodyguard would be there, well, Anne would attend with glee.
Anthony gazed at her sincerely. “I apologize, Anne. I was only trying to help.”
“As was I,” Jane said.
“I know, and I appreciate you both so much. Please don’t argue on my account. I rely on your mutual affection—it reminds me there is happiness to be had.”
Anthony moved to Jane and slipped his arm around her waist. “Indeed there is, even when you think there isn’t. I would know.”
Yes, he would. After his parents were murdered last year, he never thought he’d be happy again or that he deserved to be. Jane had nursed him back to health, both emotionally and physically after he’d shown up on her doorstep battered almost beyond recognition. If he could find love, surely Anne would too.
Except, she was fairly certain finding it wouldn’t be her problem. Whether it would be reciprocated was a separate issue entirely.
Chapter 3
After being announced by his sister’s butler, Rafe walked into the garden room of her new residence in Cavendish Square. The addition of several chairs crowded the room. “Are you expecting an army?” Rafe asked.
Selina adjusted the position of a chair near the doors that led out to the garden. There was typically a table there, but it had apparently been moved out of the room. “Just the Spitfire Society. While our numbers are growing, we are nowhere near an army. Not everyone will be here today, anyway, including Beatrix.” She stopped abruptly and stared at him. “You’re here because of the invitation.” She didn’t have to specify which invitation.
“You received it earlier?”
She nodded. “A picnic at Ivy Grove tomorrow. How did you manage it? And so quickly?”
Rafe lifted a shoulder. “Someone owed me a favor.”
Selina’s brow puckered. Frowning, she moved around the chair. “No one disreputable, I hope. We’re supposed to have left that life behind.”
There was an earnestness and a hopefulness to her tone that nearly made Rafe smile. They’d both been through so much, together as children and then later after he sent her to school and they were apart for an unforgiveable nineteen years.
“Have I told you how glad I am you finally returned to London?” he asked.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Have I told you how angry I was that I thought you didn’t care?”
“Yes. And you don’t need to stop. I deserve every cross word you utter, even if I truly was trying to keep you safe.” He gave her a wry look. “You’ve more than demonstrated your ability to take care of yourself.”
“Yes, well, I learned from the very best.” She inclined her head. “Now, you didn’t reassure me as to this person who owed you a favor. Is this someone from your past life?”
“Yes—and no.” Rafe swiped the underside of his fingers along his jaw. “Lord Colton owed the Vicar a favor.”
Selina muttered a curse. “Were you mixed up in that extortion business with him and Thomas’s former brother-in-law?” She referred to their new brother-in-law’s—Rockbourne’s—deceased wife’s brother, Gilbert Chamberlain. The blackguard Anne nearly married.
“Not in the extortion, no. I would never involve myself in such a vile endeavor.” He exhaled. “But as the Vicar, I cultivated a relationship with Chamberlain a few years ago. He possessed a certain lack of morality that suited my needs as I sought to gain wealthier, better-positioned clients.”
“God, that sounds awful. And yet I understand why that was helpful to your cause.” She pressed her lips together.
“The cause to lift ourselves out of the gutter,” he said quietly.
They’d both done things they regretted, things that had been necessary to survive or to propel them to where they were now. Seeing Selina happy and in love, and, most of all, secure and safe, made everything worthwhile.
“Yes. I do understand. Completely.” Her gaze, tinged with a faint sadness, told him she did.
“Chamberlain was well placed in Society, particularly with gentlemen who needed financial assistance.”
“Which the Vicar—you—could provide in the form of high-interest loans.”
“That is how I made Lord Colton’s acquaintance. Later, at Colton’s request, I discovered Chamberlain was the one extorting him. In exchange for my help, Colton owed me a favor. I asked if he could arrange an introduction to Stone, preferably at Ivy Grove. He’d indicated it would be difficult, but clearly he had no trouble whatsoever.”
Selina’s lips curled into a half smile. “Clearly.”
“I had no idea it would happen this quickly, but it’s most fortuitous.” Rafe was beyond anxious to explore the fol
ly and see if more memories rose to the surface.
“So Colton knows you were the Vicar. Isn’t that dangerous?”
“No more dangerous than your husband, a Bow Street Runner, knowing.”
“Harry won’t ever say anything, even if you two haven’t become friends. I do hope that will change,” she added.
Rafe doubted the possibility. Sheffield had spent years hunting the Vicar for a crime Rafe hadn’t actually committed. Once Sheffield had learned that—and caught the man who’d burned down a flash-house, killing several people inside—he’d let go of his need for vengeance. Still, they hadn’t formed a friendship despite the fact that they were now related by marriage.
“I wouldn’t worry about Colton. It wouldn’t benefit him to say anything. He wants to put his past behind him as much as I do.” The viscount wouldn’t want to remind people that he’d been buried in gambling debt and had borrowed money that he hadn’t initially been able to repay. Or that his failure had led to the murder of his parents.
Selina uncrossed her arms and dropped them to her sides. “How will you manage to speak to Lord Stone in the midst of a picnic?”
“I’m sure there will be an opportunity.” If not, he would make one.
“And what will you say? Will you ask if he recognizes you as a visitor to his estate nearly thirty years ago when you were a child?” Squinting one eye at him, she stepped closer, her gaze fixing on his right eye. “You do have the orange spot, and that has been there your entire life. I suppose it’s not impossible he may recognize that one defining mark.”
“I haven’t decided what to say. Perhaps you’ll be the one to say something. You’d prefer to be with me when I speak with him, yes?”
She inclined her head. “I would, thank you.”
“This is our shared past, Lina. You may not remember any of it, but they were your parents too.”
“I wish I remembered something more than a coral necklace.” Her hand went to the coral flower pendant she wore that was so very similar to the one that had belonged to their mother.
