A Rogue to Ruin (The Untouchables: The Pretenders Book 3)

by Darcy Burke

  Harry nodded. “He’ll have to—what’s entailed, anyway.”

  “I have no idea what that is,” Rafe said.

  “I’ll find out.”

  Selina put her other hand atop their joined ones. “Thank you for guiding us. I don’t know what we would do without you.”

  Rafe didn’t either. And he hated that feeling. He’d relied on no one but himself for years now, and he didn’t miss the sensation of depending upon others. “He was upset that we’re alive.”

  “Of course he was,” Harry said. “He’s going to lose nearly everything—his title, his land, his position. If something is unentailed, perhaps you’d consider not contesting its ownership.”

  “Perhaps,” Selina said before Rafe could. She exchanged a dark look with him that said what he was thinking: trust no one. That had long been their creed. It would also be difficult to just give something away. Rafe, was inclined to keep everything he could, and he imagined Selina felt the same.

  Rafe focused his mind on what he excelled at: the strategy. “We need a story about our past. We’ll say Edgar raised us in London—we needn’t be specific about where—and you went to Mrs. Goodwin’s. After that, you—” He scowled, cutting himself off. “This is going to be a problem for Beatrix. We can no longer claim her as our sister, which means we have to admit we lied.”

  Selina massaged her temple. “Beatrix won’t care about her reputation. She will likely suggest we say we were protecting her because she is illegitimate.”

  “What about Ramsgate?” While Beatrix’s father, the Duke of Ramsgate, had privately acknowledged her, he’d been clear that he would not do so publicly.

  “What about him? Beatrix won’t say who her father is. Let Society obsess about who he might be.” Selina’s tone carried equal amounts disdain and sarcasm.

  Rafe frowned. “I’m sorry she’ll have to endure that.”

  Selina put her hand in her lap. “She won’t mind. She has what she always wanted—a family.” She exchanged a look with Harry and smiled softly.

  “You should invite her and Rockbourne to the dinner on Monday,” Harry said. “A viscount in your family doesn’t hurt.”

  “Harry, would you mind if we stopped at their house so I can tell her what happened?” Selina asked. “I have no idea if the news will get out, but I want her to hear this from me. She’ll be astonished.”

  Rafe understood that emotion too well. The shock still hadn’t worn off. Perhaps it never would.

  He was a bloody earl.

  “I doubt Mallory or Lady Burnhope will disclose what’s happened,” Harry said. “I suppose the housekeeper will tell the other employees, and it’s possible the news could spread that way. I’d say you should be prepared for anything.” He looked to Rafe. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to tell my father and brother right away so they can also lend their support. You will need all the well-placed friends you can get.”

  Rafe’s mind spun. “Thank you.”

  “Rafe, what will you say about your past?” Selina asked quietly. “You’ve been rather vague.”

  He had to be. Raphael Bowles hadn’t existed until this spring. Before that, Rafe had been a criminal, an orphan of London’s East End. Thanks to his father teaching him to read at a very young age and his ensuing love of books, he was educated. Books, of course, were exceptionally dear, so he hadn’t been able to purchase them. Instead, he’d stolen them from Paternoster Row until a bookshop owner had caught him one day. Rather than send Rafe to prison, Mr. Fletcher had taken pity and allowed him to read the books in his establishment as if it were a library. Dear Mr. Fletcher had died some eight years ago, and now Rafe owned that bookshop.

  Harry’s brow creased. “You will be scrutinized. Just as you will become one of the most eligible bachelors in London.”

  Bloody hell. Rafe did not want that. “Thank God the Season is almost over. Won’t everyone be leaving town soon?”

  “Next month, but that may as well be a year from now,” Harry said. “Say you were educated by private tutors and that you inherited money from the man who raised you.”

  “Won’t they ask who that was?” Selina asked.

  Harry shrugged. “Probably, but Rafe can simply say he died a long time ago. Keep things uncomplicated, and be charming. Society will be utterly enthralled by your resurrection. You’re handsome and wealthy, and everyone will want you to succeed.”

  Rafe managed to nod even as he felt completely overwhelmed. Now that he finally knew the truth of who he was, he would have to pretend as he never had before. “I am going to find out who that man really was—the man who took us from our nurse and brought us to London. None of this makes a damn bit of sense. Why would Selina and I be declared dead?”

  Harry cocked his head. “Speaking as an investigator, I would ask who would benefit from your deaths.”

  “Our uncle.” Rafe and Selina spoke almost simultaneously, their eyes meeting.

  “He would have set the fire at Stonehaven?” Selina asked disbelievingly.

  “And killed our parents.” Ice coated Rafe from the inside out. If he found that to be true, nothing would be able to protect Mallory from his wrath.

  “We don’t know that for certain,” Harry said cautiously. “Yet.” He exchanged a look with Rafe that said he would find out.

  Rafe couldn’t quite believe this man who had hunted him for years was now his ally. Apparently, today was a day of improbable surprises. Not the least of which was the fact that Anne Pemberton was now firmly in his orbit.

  And, though he might like to deny his strong attraction to her, that was the best part.

  What was Rafe doing today? Or thinking? Was he sad? Angry? Scared? No, never scared.

  These were the questions crowding Anne’s mind on Saturday, along with how can I see him today? She would see him Monday at the dinner Mr. Sheffield had proposed, but that was too far away. She wanted to talk to him, to understand how he was feeling. It had to be a shock.

  Of course it was. He’d had no idea until yesterday that he was an earl.

  Anne had relayed the entire astonishing tale to her sister and Anthony during their ride back to London after the picnic. How her godfather had managed to pretend as though nothing had happened, that his life wasn’t about to dramatically change, was a mystery to her. But then he’d always been good at being charming. In fact, he’d even hid the truth from Sandon, rather Lorcan, until after the guests had left. Or so Anne believed—that had been her godfather’s plan after Rafe, his sister, and Mr. Sheffield had left.

  Because Deborah had convinced him not to cancel the picnic. He’d wanted to, saying he would blame the weather and suggest they would all want to return to London posthaste. Deborah had pointed out that they would soon be in the midst of a scandal, so why invite speculation or scrutiny by ending the picnic early?

  Anne didn’t think it was a scandal, and she really thought she knew scandals. Still, it would be news. Everyone would be talking about the long-lost Earl of Stone.

  And that was why she had to see him. He was going to need all the friends he could get, and she wanted to make sure he knew he could count on her.

  But would he? So far, he’d rebuffed her overtures. Sort of. He said one thing, but his eyes and behavior said something else. She’d been certain they were going to kiss beneath the temple yesterday. Until her blasted godfather had shown up. Now, that had been a scandal—at least to her.

  Jane came into the morning room carrying Fern. Daffodil followed behind them, her tiny kitten legs moving quickly to keep up. “You’re still here,” she said to Anne as she set Fern down in front of the door that led out to the garden. She opened the door, and both kittens dashed outside. “There you go.” Jane left the door cracked open. It was a warm, calm summer morning, quite at odds with yesterday’s storms.

  “Yes, I’m still here. I wanted a second cup of coffee, and I was reading the paper.” Anne rose from the table.

  “You needn’t leave.” Jane frowned
slightly. “Is something the matter? You’ve been awfully quiet since we returned from Ivy Grove yesterday.”

  “Have I?” Anne asked innocently.

  Jane rolled her eyes and moved to the table, taking a chair across from Anne’s. “Sit. And don’t treat me like I don’t know you better than anyone. What’s going on in your head?”

  Exhaling, Anne sat back down. Was there any reason not to tell her sister about Rafe? She rather wanted to… “Do you remember when I told you I was in love a few months ago?”

  “Yes, quite clearly. Then you were soon betrothed to Chamberlain, and it was evident to me he was not the object of your initial affection. Was I correct?”

  Anne nodded. She looked at the tablecloth and laid her hand atop it, her palm against the soft, ivory cotton. “I lost contact with him, but we have recently become reacquainted.”

  Jane’s jaw dropped. “It’s Bowles. Er, Stone. Isn’t it?”

  Withdrawing her hand to her lap, Anne looked straight at her sister. “Yes.”

  “I have several questions.” Jane tried not to look aghast and rather failed. “How did you meet him? And when? Why did you lose contact? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t say anything because all of it is scandalous. Back when I first arrived in London, I used to go out with Deborah every Thursday.”

  “I remember.”

  “We didn’t actually spend our time together,” Anne said slowly. “I went to Hatchard’s, and she went…well, I don’t exactly know where she went. She just left me alone for two blissful hours.”

  Jane gaped at her again. “She was supposed to be chaperoning you!”

  “I know. But she had something she preferred to do, and I wanted a reprieve from Mother and Father and expectation.”

  Jane winced. “I’m sorry. That was my fault. If I’d been more successful, they would not have put so much pressure on you.”

  “That wasn’t your fault at all. Chamberlain—that idiot I betrothed myself to—and his horrible sister, God rest her soul, are to blame. They ruined your reputation five years ago. How could you have done anything differently?”

  “I don’t know,” Jane said. “That’s the worst of it. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Precisely. That’s why I decided that actually doing something wrong didn’t matter. You just have to avoid getting caught. So I wore a veil and sat in a corner and read books at Hatchard’s. For two weeks, until Lord Bodyguard showed up.” Anne thought of that day often, and it never failed to make her smile. What might have happened if Rafe hadn’t arrived? Would those two men have left her alone? She would never know.

  “Lord Bodyguard?”

  “Rafe. Mr. Bowles. Lord Stone.”

  “I gathered that. But why are you calling him Lord Bodyguard?”

  “Because he stepped in to protect me from a pair of odious men.”

  “Good heavens, Anne, you should not have been alone.”

  “I was in a bookstore, not walking around Covent Garden by myself. Though I did go there with Rafe. And to Cheapside and other places. After that first meeting, he offered to take me around London to places I would not be allowed to go.”

  Jane simply stared at her, saying nothing. So Anne continued.

  “Those were the best afternoons of my life.”

  “You did fall in love with him,” Jane said.

  “I did. He does not know that, however. I was not able to continue meeting him.” Even if she had, Anne wasn’t certain she would have told him that next week. They hadn’t even known each other’s names. “If you recall, Mother made me stop my weekly outings with Deborah. The Season was becoming too busy. Or so she said.”

  “If you were in love with him, why did you accept Chamberlain’s proposal? Why didn’t Bowles, hell, Stone, court you?”

  “He wasn’t in Society then. I didn’t meet him again until he came to see Anthony last week.”

  “But surely you could have contacted him.” Jane shook her head. “Or not. I realize how difficult it was to live with Mother and Father. They would not have allowed you to send a letter to a man you hadn’t officially met.”

  “That’s true, but since I’d found a way to escape them for two hours each week, surely you realize I could have sent a letter somehow.” She smiled at Jane, who laughed softly.

  “Fair enough. You are quite capable. Why didn’t you, then?”

  “Thank you. Because I didn’t know his real name. We agreed to keep our identities secret. I didn’t know him, and he didn’t know me. So when I failed to meet him, that was the end of it.”

  Jane’s eyes rounded briefly. “How sad. And yet romantic at the same time.”

  Anne laughed. “I’m glad you think so. I was devastated.”

  “Then you went on to become betrothed to a man you surely didn’t love.” Jane laid her hand against her cheek. “Oh, Anne, I am so sorry. And so relieved that your wedding didn’t happen.”

  “No more than I am,” Anne said soberly. “Thankfully, that is in the past, and for the first time in weeks, I am looking forward to the future.”

  “With Stone?”

  “I hope so, but I don’t know if he reciprocates my feelings. Right now, I can’t even get him to admit we’re friends.” She waved her hand. “That isn’t important, however. We are friends, and he needs them. I’m worried about him. Yesterday was a shock, and I’m desperate to know how he’s faring.”

  “You’ll see him on Monday.”

  “Along with everyone else. I want to see him alone.” Anne put her hand back on the table and lightly drummed her fingertips atop the cloth.

  “We’ll pay a call on behalf of the Spitfire Society,” Jane declared, straightening her spine against the back of the chair. “This afternoon.”

  Anne stared at her sister. “We will?”

  “Yes. And I will give you some time alone with him, if he’s amenable.”

  “He will be.” Anne had no reason to believe he wouldn’t. He hadn’t given her the cut direct or anything. She smiled at Jane. “Thank you.”

  Jane reached across the table, and Anne met her fingertips with her own. “I would do anything to ensure your happiness, even if it includes bending Society’s stupid rules. After all, I am not exactly a role model.”

  Anne laughed. “You are the very best sister, however.”

  “Well, that much is true.” Jane winked. “Go don your most fetching walking dress.”

  Anne was already out of her chair. She could hardly wait to see him.

  Chapter 6

  Rafe sat brooding in his study, which was just off the library. He stared through the open doorway at the shelves of books and was immediately comforted.

  Harry had just left, and while it had been a good visit—Harry’s father and brother were ready to stand in support of Rafe becoming the Earl of Stone—it had also left him emotionally raw. Or more raw than he was already after yesterday’s revelations.

  Lord Aylesbury, Harry’s father, had actually known Rafe’s father. They’d been friends. And now that Rafe knew who his parents were, there would be more people like him. Rafe hadn’t considered all the people in Society who would come forward to tell him and Selina that they’d known their parents. To have that connection… Rafe had to work to swallow past the lump in his throat.

  Glover appeared in the doorway. “Sir, you have visitors.” Rafe hadn’t yet told him he was an earl. How did one announce that? “Lady Colton and Miss Pemberton.”

  Rafe shot to his feet. Anne was here? “Bring them to the library, please.”

  Glover inclined his head and departed.

  Perhaps Anne could help him determine what to say to his employees. All of it felt so damned awkward—even having employees in the first place. But this was the life he’d aspired to have, to make his father, who would never know, proud. Had he somehow known his father was an earl? Was there something inside him that had driven him to Mayfair, to this life?

  He went into the library and sm
oothed his hand over his hair and down the front of his coat. A moment later, Anne walked in along with her sister. Rafe barely saw Lady Colton as his gaze feasted on Anne. Dressed in a smart, moss-green walking costume, she was the epitome of grace and beauty. And her hair was even completely contained. That part was perhaps a trifle disappointing. He liked when her curls escaped.

  They both curtsied. “My lord,” Anne said.

  A sharp inhalation of breath drew Rafe to look toward Glover, who stood just inside the doorway. He stared at Rafe in question.

  “Ah, I’ll explain later,” Rafe said to the butler. “Thank you.”

  Glover bowed his head and left. Rafe looked to his guests. “I’m afraid I haven’t yet told anyone about my sudden ascension to the peerage.”

  Anne’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t suddenly ascend. You’re simply newly aware.”

  “No, he’s quite right,” Lady Colton said. “He isn’t currently the earl. He will be. Next week, probably.” She smiled at him. “Please forgive our intrusion. We came to discuss Spitfire business with you, as one of our primary supporters.”

  Yes, he’d pledged a great deal of money to their endeavors, particularly because Selina was so heavily involved. She planned to start an orphanage that would ensure stable futures for the children who landed there, and it would be located in East London. Rafe could think of nothing more noble to do with the wealth he’d accumulated.

  However, he doubted very much that the Spitfire Society was the purpose for their visit. “I see. How may I be of service?”

  Anne came toward him. “That’s just a poppycock excuse.” He nearly laughed at her explanation. “I wanted to see you, and Jane was kind enough to offer to bring me.”

  “If you wish to talk privately, I’d be delighted to peruse your library.” Lady Colton smiled at them, then promptly turned her back as she studied the bookshelves.

  Rafe looked at Anne in question, and at her slight nod, he gestured for her to precede him to his study. When they arrived, she turned and walked past him to shut the door.