by Darcy Burke
“Scandalous,” he murmured.
“Only if we’re caught, and we won’t be.”
“But your sister is in the library.”
“My sister brought me here.” Anne arched a pale brow at him. “And my sister nursed her husband back to health after he collapsed on her doorstep beat to ribbons. They were alone in her house for a week. She is not going to blink at my being alone with you behind a closed door. In fact, she is in support of it. She knows, as do I, that you need me.”
Rafe stifled a smile. “Do I?” He went to the sideboard where he kept wine and his favorite gin. “Would you care for a drink? So long as we’re not being scandalous.”
“No, thank you. But please help yourself.”
He poured himself a small glass of gin. Taking a sip, he went to the seating area situated in the center of the room. “Shall we sit?”
She went to the settee and perched on the edge, seeming as if she might not stay there. He considered whether he should join her there, but decided it would be more prudent if he took a chair. Distance between them was probably best.
Except she frowned as he moved toward the chair. “Will you sit with me?” she asked.
He should have anticipated that she would voice her desires. She had never been shy about doing so. He admired that about her.
Rafe sat on the settee against one of the high ends, bringing his knee up onto the cushion as he faced her. She scooted back, situating herself more squarely on the settee.
She pivoted toward him. “I wanted to hug you when I arrived.”
He was disappointed she didn’t. “You think I need comfort?”
“Don’t you? Yesterday has forever changed you.”
“Has it?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You are answering me with a great many questions today.”
He was. “My apologies. I am at sixes and sevens.”
She exhaled as she untied her bonnet and set it on the arm of the settee behind her. “Understandably so. I’ve been concerned.”
“Why?” He sipped his gin, enthralled by her care and, frankly, thrilled for the distraction.
She frowned at him. “You just said you were at sixes and sevens.”
“I am…overwhelmed. As evidenced by the fact that I haven’t even told my employees what happened. I suppose it doesn’t feel real to me yet.” And it had nothing to do with the title—that was inconsequential compared to what was truly important, that he’d found his parents. He tossed back the rest of his gin, appreciating the heat along his tongue and throat. “What happened yesterday after we left?”
“The picnic continued, even though my godfather wanted to call it off. Deborah convinced him to allow the event to proceed. They didn’t inform Lorcan of what happened until after everyone had left. Did you meet Lorcan?” she asked.
Rafe shook his head. “How did he react?”
“He was surprisingly calm. His initial concern was that he would no longer have access to the estate in Ireland. He really loves it there.”
“I own an estate in Ireland?” Rafe shook his head. Harry was still working on accumulating a full accounting of the assets that should rightfully belong to Rafe. Perhaps the Irish property belonged to his uncle. Except if his cousin was now worried he wouldn’t have access, that seemed unlikely.
“You own many things,” Anne said.
“Your godfather was very upset.”
She blinked. “Of course. Wouldn’t you be?”
“I am upset to learn I was stolen from my home and denied my birthright.” His voice had risen. When he thought of the hardship he and Selina had faced and survived, he wanted to rage.
Anne sucked in a breath. She scooted forward on the cushion, her eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
Rafe stood and took his empty glass to the sideboard. He set it down and looked at the painting in front of him. It was of some nameless subject. He realized he likely now owned countless portraits of his family members. Was there one of his parents, or had it burned in the fire? He was desperate to find one.
He turned to face Anne. “What did Lady Burnhope say?” Rafe was particularly interested in what his cousin would do. She despised Selina and would most certainly be displeased that her foe from school was now her cousin. Selina was utterly disgusted.
“She ranted about the unfairness of it, which wasn’t helpful.” Anne made a face. “Deborah can be difficult to like.”
According to Selina, she was completely unlikeable. “You know her well?”
“Very. She was my chaperone when we were meeting at Hatchard’s.”
Rafe let out a sharp laugh. “She was terrible.”
Anne grinned. “Thankfully. Else, we would not have met.”
Rafe supposed he should be grateful, then, for meeting Anne and sharing those afternoons was the most wonderful thing in his recent memory.
“Still, she can be horrendous. She thought you should let her father keep the title.” Anne rolled her eyes.
“Does she have any redeeming qualities?”
“She can be helpful. She’s gone to great lengths to be supportive after my wedding that didn’t happen.”
“As she should,” Rafe muttered. The thought of Anne marrying that scoundrel still ate at him. Or maybe it was the idea that he’d almost lost her. For a woman he was trying not to be friends with, she’d come to mean a great deal to him. “I doubt she will be so supportive of me, however.”
“Probably not.” Anne clasped her hands in her lap, and Rafe could suddenly feel them on him—as she stroked his jaw or rested her palm against his chest. “But there will be plenty who will, including me and Jane and Anthony. I will be at the dinner on Monday at your sister’s house.”
He blinked in surprise. “You will?”
“My godfather asked me to come. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” In fact, he was glad to have someone else present who supported him.
Did she, though? The man who was about to lose everything—or nearly everything—was her godfather. How close was their relationship? “Do you think he should keep the title?” he asked. She’d rolled her eyes, but what did that mean?
“I don’t think it’s that simple. You are the rightful earl. It’s a terrible situation for everyone.” She smiled sadly. “You’ve been denied your very identity for nearly thirty years, and my godfather has spent that same amount of time living a life that didn’t really belong to him.”
She didn’t not support him. But she clearly sympathized with her godfather too.
He would do well to remember that. “We’ve changed the location of the dinner. I’ll be hosting it here.” Selina hadn’t wanted Deborah in her house, and Rafe didn’t blame her. “Harry is sending word to your godfather this afternoon.”
“Mr. Sheffield is a good friend to you. I’m glad.”
Yes, he was, and Rafe was still struggling to accept that. “Apparently, his father was a friend of my father’s.” He abruptly clenched his teeth together and pushed away the emotion that always seemed to be thundering just beneath the surface.
Anne rose and came to him, her brow creased. “I’m so sorry, Rafe,” she whispered. “This has to be so difficult. But isn’t there joy too? In knowing who you are?”
She was so close. He could wrap his arms around her and pull her against him, bury himself in her scent and softness, comfort himself in her care and tenderness. It was almost painful not to.
Oh, she was much more than a friend. That was absolutely terrifying.
“Joy? I don’t know.” That wasn’t an emotion he often felt. The happiest he’d been in the past four years was when he’d reunited with Selina. But even that had been eclipsed by the fact that he’d kept her away from him for far too long. “Perhaps I’m afraid of that,” he said quietly, his voice rasping.
He was also afraid of being the center of attention, of disappointing his parents, of not being the man he should be. How could he be, given how he was raised? How he’d sp
ent almost the entirety of his life? As a criminal and a fraud. Yes, he could play the role of earl—he was so good at pretending. But this wasn’t a sham. This was real. This was who he was supposed to be.
What if he failed?
“Oh, Rafe.” She moved closer and put her palms against his cheeks. Her brow puckered, and she quickly stripped her gloves away, heedlessly dropping them to the floor. Her bare hands touched his face, and he lost himself in her gaze. “You deserve to feel happy.”
He didn’t believe that, not after the things he’d done. “You don’t know me,” he whispered.
“I’m trying to. I want to. How can I help? I want to be your friend—like Harry.”
Rafe smiled at that. “Please, not like Harry.”
She laughed softly and, standing on her toes, twined her arms around his neck, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Rafe lightly clasped her waist. That wasn’t natural. What felt natural would be to hold her tightly to him. He didn’t do that.
“You’re going to be very popular as soon as everyone hears about your claim.”
He winced. “I’m afraid of that most of all.”
“Are you?”
“I value my privacy.” He resisted the urge to move his hands to her back. “Besides, if I’m the center of attention, you can’t very well call on me anymore—even in the company of your sister on the pretense of asking about my charitable donations.”
She grinned. “Probably not. I’ll just have to find a way to avoid notice. I’m good at not getting caught. Speaking of that, if you postpone submitting your claim until Thursday, we can still go to Magazine Day on Wednesday. I’ve procured a man’s costume as you directed.”
“Have you now?” His hands slowly crept around her waist despite his best intentions. She was far too close, and he simply couldn’t resist. “I must admit I would appreciate just a few more days of anonymity.” Besides, Harry had dispatched a clerk to Stonehaven, and they planned to wait for the man’s report before moving forward. He would not return before Magazine Day. “How will you get away?”
She lifted a shoulder as she toyed with his shirt collar. “I’ll say I’m taking a nap. You can pick me up in the Grosvenor Street mews.”
“You’ve thought this through.”
“I have.” She gave him a shrewd stare. “I like to plan.”
“I do admire a strategic mind.” He admired everything about her, from her intelligence to her passion for trying and seeing new things. She seemed rather fearless, he realized, and that was incredibly intoxicating. “Are you afraid of anything?” he asked.
“Being alone.” She snapped her lips together in a slight frown. “I didn’t realize I was going to say that. In fact, I didn’t know I felt that way until this moment.”
“I can’t imagine you need to worry about that.” He splayed his palms against her lower back. “Won’t your sister suspect what you’re about? Since she brought you here today.”
“Perhaps.” She tipped her head from side to side. “Probably. I’m not much for taking naps, I’m afraid. It doesn’t matter—she won’t begrudge me, and she certainly won’t tell anyone.”
He laughed. “You have a good sister.”
Anne beamed up at him. “So do you. I like Selina very much.”
He did have a good sister. That morning, they’d traveled to the Croydon Parish Church and spoken to the vicar. He’d hadn’t known their “uncle,” Edgar Blackwell, but when Rafe had described their nurse, he’d said it sounded like one of his former parishioners—a Pauline Blaylock. Dark-haired with a beautiful voice, she’d left home to take a position as a nurse decades before. Her family had been proud that she’d gone to work for an earl.
Unfortunately, the Blaylock family had all died or moved far away from Croydon, with the exception of one person: Pauline’s younger sister. She was married to an innkeeper in Redhill. They hadn’t had time to travel farther south to visit her at the Golden Eagle today, but they would soon.
“What time should I be ready on Wednesday?” Anne asked.
Her question jolted him from his recollection of his trip to Croydon. “Ah, ten?”
“So early. For Society, but not for me. I’ll be ready.” She gave him a coy look and slipped her fingers into the hair at his nape. This was very similar to when she’d kissed him at the Chapter Coffee House. When he’d been swept away by his overwhelming attraction to her. It would be far too easy to allow that again…
He forced himself to take his hands from her and step back. “Are you certain this is wise?”
Her brow furrowed with disappointment. “Going to Magazine Day? I owe you an excursion since I missed our last one.”
She was clever. He’d give her that. And it wasn’t as if she was manipulating him. He knew precisely what he was doing, that agreeing to take her, hell, seeing her here and now, invited intimacy. At least the physical kind. He wasn’t capable of anything else. She needed to know that.
He took her hand and guided her back to the settee, sitting them both down so they faced each other. “Anne, you need to understand something. You’ve said—repeatedly—that you wish to be my friend. I gratefully accept your friendship. However, I can’t accept more, and it seems you…would like more.”
She narrowed her eyes briefly and swallowed. “Because I kissed you and nearly did so again just now?”
“Yes.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“For you? Yes. You are not the sort of woman I should be kissing.”
“What does that mean?” She sounded a bit angry, and her eyes blazed.
“It means a woman like you deserves a man who will kiss you and then marry you. I am not that man, nor will I ever be.”
Her gaze calmed, and she regarded him with curiosity. “Why not?”
“Because I was married before, and I don’t wish to be again.”
She blinked as a slight tremor raced through her. He could see it in the flutter of her throat and the gentle twitch of her shoulders.
“What happened?” she asked.
Rafe worked to keep the specific memories at bay. He never indulged them. To do so was madness and despair. “She died. I loved her very much.” More than life. And she’d been carrying their child. The loss of the family he’d so desperately wanted was a hole inside him that would never heal. Vengeance hadn’t soothed his pain; nothing would.
Anne’s eyes rounded. “Oh.” She glanced away. “That’s why there’s a darkness inside you.”
Christ, she did see him. “Yes.”
Her gaze turned fierce, and she took his hand between both of hers in her lap. “I am your friend, and perhaps I’ll be more. Perhaps not. I have no illusions—not after Gilbert Chamberlain. If I learned anything from that experience, it’s that I deserve happiness and I won’t settle for anything less than what I want.”
Utterly fearless. He shouldn’t take her to Magazine Day, but nothing could stop him. Not even the stark reality that he didn’t deserve to breathe the same air she did. If she knew how he was connected to Chamberlain, she’d realize just how awful he was.
He put his other hand over hers and leaned toward her. “Understand me, Anne—there is more than a darkness. I am not the man you think I am, nor the man you want me to be. I am not a knight or a hero who will make you happy forever. If you can accept that, we will go to Magazine Day to make up our lost afternoon. And then we will part as friends. Do you agree?” He held her gaze and stroked his thumb along her wrist.
She nodded. Then he did the unthinkable. He brought his hands up to her face and held her while he put his mouth on hers. She clasped the lapels of his coat, pulling the garment as her lips met his.
The kiss was fast but deep. It wasn’t a promise but a regret. A desperate yearning that would never be fulfilled.
Rafe groaned low in his throat and released her. “Go.”
She set her hat atop her head and coughed. “My gloves.”
He stood and retrieved them from the f
loor. Handing them to her, he was careful to barely touch her hand. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
She nodded, then left.
One stolen afternoon. Before his life irrevocably changed.
Ludlow Mallory’s coach stopped in front of Rafe’s magnificent house on Upper Brook Street. The groom opened the door and helped Deborah alight, then Anne. Her godfather and his son, Lorcan, followed. The four of them stood on the pavement and looked at the grandest façade on the street.
“This is his house?” Anne’s godfather asked incredulously. “How wealthy is he?”
“I would say quite,” Deborah said with a slight frown.
“He doesn’t need to be an earl,” Anne’s godfather continued. “Nor does he need all my property and assets.”
“Nevertheless, he’s entitled to them,” Lorcan said with resignation. “Including my beloved Kilmaar.”
Anne gave him a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps he’ll allow you to keep something. You certainly aren’t going to be destitute.” At least she hoped not. She had no idea how their finances would be once they lost the properties and whatever assets rightfully belonged to Rafe. “I can’t see how your cousin would let that happen.”
“Do you know him?” her godfather asked sharply. Anne swallowed.
Deborah exhaled. “She’s just being optimistic. Which is admirable.” She gave Anne a warm smile. “Of course, my life will not be changed.”
The former earl gave his daughter a sour look. “Precisely. Optimism is easy for you. And Anne.”
“You mean selfishness,” Lorcan said, darting a disappointed glance at his sister before apologizing to Anne. “I didn’t mean you. Your optimism is appreciated.”
Anne hated how defeated Lorcan and his father sounded. She could understand how they must feel. This was such a shock.
Taking a breath and summoning the optimism they seemed to need, she squared her shoulders. “Let’s not stand here and gawk.” She started up the steps to the door, which opened as she reached the top.
The butler, Glover if she recalled from her visit the other day, admitted them with a nod. After they were all in the entry hall, a footman took Anne’s and Deborah’s shawls, and a second footman took over the butler’s position at the door.
