by Darcy Burke
“This way, if you please.” Glover led them to the right into an elegant room decorated in reds and golds. There were a few chairs and a settee, but it appeared to be an anteroom. The occupants, which included Rafe, his sisters, and their husbands all stood.
Sisters.
It occurred to Anne that her godfather didn’t have two nieces. At least not that he was aware of. Was Beatrix a…by-blow? Why hadn’t she thought to ask Rafe about this the other day?
Anne gave her a warm smile, which Beatrix returned. Then her gaze shifted toward Deborah and went instantly cold.
“Good evening,” Rafe said. “Thank you for coming tonight and for being flexible with changing the location. It seemed I should host.”
“Your house is most impressive,” Deborah said. “Is that why you wanted to host? So we could see it?”
“No, that’s not why,” Selina said icily. “I didn’t want to have you in my house.”
Deborah’s nose twitched, and she flashed a small, malicious smile. “We’re just going to be openly hostile?”
Selina shrugged. “Beatrix and I discussed it, and it seemed the most acceptable course. For us, anyway.” She exchanged a mildly amused look with Beatrix, and Anne couldn’t help but admire their solidarity and sisterhood. She and Jane would do the same in the face of a common enemy.
“Well, if that’s the case, then allow me to ask why Beatrix is even here.” Deborah glowered at them.
“She’s Lady Rockbourne,” Beatrix’s husband corrected in a clipped tone.
“Of course, I’d forgotten given the hastiness of your marriage.” Deborah clucked her tongue as she regarded Beatrix. “Why are you here? You aren’t actually their sister. I suppose you could be my uncle’s by-blow, but your father is purportedly a duke.”
“Indeed he is,” Beatrix said smoothly. She didn’t seem the slightest bit agitated by Deborah’s needling. Needling? No, her behavior was far worse than that. Anne wasn’t sure she would be able to keep from berating her for this.
Beatrix waved her hand. “It hardly signifies. I am quite happy with how things have happened, and I can’t say I care if anyone knows I’m a duke’s bastard.” She turned to her husband, who was gazing at her adoringly. “Do you mind, dear?”
“Not at all.” He put his arm around her waist and held her close to his side.
Glover appeared again and announced that dinner would be served. He opened the doors to the adjoining dining room. Before Rafe could approach Anne to escort her in—and she wasn’t sure he would have, but would tell herself that he planned to—Lorcan came to her side and offered his arm.
In the dining room, Rafe sat at the head while Selina and Beatrix sat on either side of him. Their husbands sat next to them while Deborah was seated beside Lord Rockbourne, much to her dismay. But then Anne doubted there was anywhere she could sit at the table that wouldn’t have been displeasing to her. Her father took the chair next to her, while Anne sat next to Mr. Sheffield with Lorcan on her other side.
A dark red claret was poured, and the first course of dishes set upon the table. The room was completely silent, but a thick tension clogged the air.
“This house is spectacular,” Anne’s godfather said, looking around the room with its ivory, red, and gold décor. A magnificent mirror surmounted the hearth, reflecting the hundreds of candles flickering in the chandeliers and in the sconces on the walls. There were also several large, stunning portraits, including one by Joshua Reynolds. “You appear to be a man of great means.” He picked up his wineglass, settling his gaze on their host over the rim.
“Thank you.” Rafe’s voice was even, his eyes cool. “I’m new to Mayfair and this house. I’ve enjoyed the decorating of it.” He said nothing to address her godfather’s last comment. What could he say? Anne realized she was also curious as to how he’d made his fortune.
“I should say,” Deborah remarked as she held her wineglass aloft. “The paintings in this room alone would be the envy of anyone who appreciates art. One can only wonder what the rest of the house looks like.” It was clear to Anne that she wanted to see it for herself.
“Yes, I imagine one can,” Beatrix said with an overly sweet smile. “I can tell you the art in the gallery is even more impressive. And the library…well, I am not sure you will find its equal in Mayfair.”
Deborah’s eyes narrowed as she sipped her wine. No, sip wasn’t right—she took a very long drink, draining nearly half the glass. She glanced toward the footman to refill it.
After several moments during which the tension seemed to increase, Rafe set his soup spoon down and addressed the table. His blue eyes glimmered in the candlelight, and his hair seemed to shine like gold. “It is my hope that we can find a way to be a family.” He glanced toward Selina. “My sister and I have only had each other—until Selina was fortunate enough to meet Beatrix—and the prospect of family is something we never imagined. To find our uncle…” He looked to Anne’s godfather. “To be reunited with our father’s brother is beyond comprehension. I know this must be a terrible shock for you, as it is for us. But in the end, it will hopefully be a good thing.”
The former earl stared at him. “That depends. Do you plan to leave us destitute?”
Sheffield coughed. “That is not Mr. Mallory’s intent.” Rafe was Mr. Mallory now? She supposed he was and that her godfather was still the earl. At least until the Committee for Privileges voted. “He does, however, intend to be the earl as that is his birthright. All entailed estates will, of course, be his. The only properties that are not entailed are your house here in London and Kilmaar in Ireland. The former was purchased by you, so that will remain yours. That you used money that is almost certainly the rightful asset of Mr. Mallory is not something he wishes to contest.” Sheffield transferred his attention to Lorcan. “Furthermore, he would like to gift Kilmaar to you.”
Lorcan’s mouth dropped open, and he clanged his spoon down against his bowl. He stared at Rafe. “You don’t want it?”
“You do. It’s been made clear to me that it’s important to you. I can’t imagine I’ll have occasion to visit Ireland regularly. I would like to see it once, however. Perhaps you’ll accommodate me.” He smiled at Lorcan, and Anne knew in that moment that she definitely hadn’t fallen out of love with him.
“You will be welcome any time. Forever.” Lorcan glanced toward his father before continuing. “You didn’t have to be generous. I keep trying to imagine how I would feel in your position. You must be so angry.”
It took Rafe a moment to reply. During that time, he exchanged a meaningful look with Selina. “Yes. It’s not that I am upset about being denied my birthright. I am, of course, but it’s more than that. I am deeply troubled by losing my parents and being stolen away. I would like to know why.”
“So would I,” Selina said. “My life would have been different—it should have been.” She turned a frigid stare on Deborah. “Just think if I had been the daughter of an earl at Mrs. Goodwin’s. Imagine us growing up as cousins and how differently you would have treated me.”
Deborah had the grace to look down at her soup. She reached for her wine again and took another substantial drink.
Anne wondered if Deborah would apologize. Not tonight, but perhaps someday. Anne hoped so and planned to talk to her about it.
“Lorcan, I appreciate you trying to understand how we feel,” Selina said. “That means a great deal to me. And to Rafe, I’m sure.”
“It does,” Rafe agreed. “I am going to need all the help I can get. I was not raised in this environment.”
“You can count on my support.” Lorcan lifted his glass in a silent toast.
Sheffield set his glass down after sipping his wine and fixed his attention on the current earl. “Can we also rely on you to provide guidance to Mr. Mallory as he assumes his rightful role? In the absence of his father to teach him, that will fall to you. If he and his sister hadn’t been kidnapped—and I think we must characterize what happened to them in thi
s way, for there is no other apparent explanation—you would have been the one to act as steward to Rafe while he grew up as the earl.”
Anne held her breath. The godfather she loved would certainly agree. He’d always been kind and supportive. But this was a horrible situation.
Finally, her godfather nodded. “I will help him.” He looked at Rafe. “I miss your father.”
Rafe’s features tensed, and his jaw clenched. “Selina doesn’t even remember him.”
Anne frowned. Her godfather was trying. But she also knew Rafe was trying too. There was just so much pain and loss. Was there too much for everyone to move forward and leave the past behind? She thought of her own family and whether Jane would ever reconcile with their parents. They’d believed the nasty rumor about Jane five years ago, and after she’d declared her spinsterhood, they’d completely turned their backs on her and encouraged Anne to do the same. Now, Anne had turned her back on them, and she honestly didn’t know when she would forgive them.
No, it wasn’t that. She could forgive them; she just didn’t know if she wanted a relationship with them.
Oh, families were complicated. Perhaps she’d tell Rafe he was better off without one.
Except that wasn’t for her to decide. Not for him.
The first course was removed, and everyone was quiet while the next course was laid.
“When do you plan to present your claim?” Lorcan asked as he served turbot onto his plate.
“As soon as we have all the evidence accumulated,” Sheffield answered. “I’ve dispatched a clerk to Stonehaven to interview the servants. Another clerk will travel to Ivy Grove to take Mrs. Gentry’s testimony, along with anyone else who was in service when Mr. Mallory and my wife were children.”
Lorcan picked up his wineglass. “So the news will likely not become public this week?”
“I doubt the claim will be ready, but I am not willing to commit to a date,” Sheffield said mildly.
Anne looked toward Rafe, and their gazes locked in silent communication. Nothing would happen until after their Magazine Day excursion. But that was perhaps the last time she would see him as Mr. Bowles, rather, Mr. Mallory. As soon as his claim was sent to the Prince Regent and the attorney general, the information would leak into the ton, and Society would be overcome with the news. Everyone would want to meet Rafe. And when the women saw him, they’d want to marry him. Or have their daughters marry him.
Anne didn’t like that one bit. Not when she wanted him for herself.
But that didn’t matter if he didn’t want her in return. Hopefully, on Wednesday she would find out.
“Even a week from now is very soon,” Deborah said.
Sheffield gave her a patient smile. “There’s no reason to wait.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s not as if this affects you at all.”
Lorcan sent his sister a smug look. Deborah scowled into her wineglass.
“I wonder if you might tell us about our father,” Selina asked her uncle. “And our mother.”
Anne watched expectantly as her godfather finished chewing. “Jerome probably should have been the second son. He would have done well as a vicar or teaching at Oxford. He liked books.”
Rafe smiled at his plate, and Anne felt a burst of warmth. How wonderful that must feel for him.
“And horses,” her godfather continued. “He wanted to start a stud at Stonehaven and was in the process of enlarging the stables when the house burned.”
Darkness swept away the light in Rafe’s features at the mention of the fire. Anne rushed to keep the topic on something pleasant. She looked to her godfather with a smile. “I remember you telling me that you and he used to race when you were young.”
“We did. I was the better horseman, but that didn’t stop Jerome from constantly challenging me.” He flicked a glance toward Selina. “Your mother had an excellent seat. She was always in the lead on the hunt.”
“How did they meet?” Selina asked softly.
Anne’s godfather shrugged. “During the Season, as one does. I don’t recall the specifics.”
“As you can imagine, we have many questions,” Rafe said. “We hope to find our nurse. If you have any suggestions that might help us, we would be grateful.”
“I doubt I would even recall her name,” the earl said.
Lorcan gestured with his fork. “You should speak to the retainers at Stonehaven. Perhaps someone there remembers her.”
Anne’s godfather had lifted his wineglass, but it slipped from his fingers and splashed across his plate and onto his lap. The glass rolled to the floor. He muttered something as a footman rushed to pick up the glass and provide assistance with a cloth.
Rising from his chair, her godfather took the cloth and swiped at his front from belly to thigh. “I’m afraid I must leave. This is a terrible mess.”
“I’m sure we can send for something for you to wear,” Rafe said calmly. “You needn’t rush off.”
As the earl kept dabbing at his clothes, Anne realized his hands were shaking. She stood and rounded the table. “We’ll go if you need to. It’s all right,” she said soothingly.
His blue eyes met hers, and she saw the anguish in their depths. Oh dear, this was far more difficult than she’d imagined. He nodded, and Anne turned her head to look first at Lorcan and then Deborah. Then her gaze found Rafe’s, and she tried to silently communicate how sorry she was about all this.
“I’m trying,” her godfather whispered. “I just… This is all that I am.”
She nodded as his children joined them. Deborah put her arm through his. “Come, Papa.”
Lorcan turned to Rafe, who’d risen from his chair. “My apologies. We will do this again. It will get…easier.”
“I hope so.” Rafe moved toward them. “I’ll see you out.”
Lorcan and Deborah escorted their father, flanking him as they left the dining room. Rafe nodded toward a footman, who left through another doorway. Turning his head, Rafe glanced at his sisters and their husbands before joining Anne. Together, they walked into the antechamber.
“I’m so sorry.” Anne kept her voice low and resisted the urge to take his arm. “My godfather is really struggling.”
“We all are,” Rafe said.
“I know. I just wish this wasn’t so painful for everyone.”
“How can it be anything else?” His voice was flat, and she wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Was he angry, frustrated, something else? Probably all of it at once.
“It will get better.” She gave him a tremulous smile and grazed her fingertips against his.
His fingers clasped hers. She looked up at him as they entered the entry hall and breathed, “Wednesday.”
With a nod, he let her go. She took her shawl from a footman and sent a last, lingering look at Rafe. His stare was dark and intense, making her shiver, and not with cold.
When they were in the coach, Deborah smoothed her hands over her lap. “Thank you for spilling your wine, Papa. I don’t think I could have endured much longer.”
Anne had endured quite enough. “Deborah, can’t you see how awful this is for everyone?”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed to slits. “Of course I can. But I am trying to support my father. He doesn’t deserve to be displaced.”
The earl, who sat beside Deborah on the forward-facing seat, patted her arm. “Thank you, dear.”
“No one deserves any of this. Imagine how you would feel if you’d been kidnapped as a child and denied the life you were meant to lead.”
“Anne is right.” The earl exhaled as he leaned back against the squab. “This is a terrible situation, but there is nothing to do but get through it. I should have stayed at dinner. I just…couldn’t.” He looked out the window.
“It’s all right, Father,” Lorcan said.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Deborah sniped. “You get to keep Kilmaar.”
Lorcan stiffened beside Anne. “And Father gets to keep his house in St. James Square. I
t will be an adjustment, but from what I can tell, our cousin is going to be very generous when it’s well within his rights not to be.”
The coach drew to a stop in front of Anthony and Jane’s house, and Anne was never more glad for such a short trip. She breathed with relief as she stepped down from the coach.
What a disaster. She only hoped things would improve from here. They had to, didn’t they?
Chapter 7
Rafe climbed into his cabriolet and set out from the Upper Brook Street mews. As he surveyed the world around him, he wondered how things would be different when the news of his true identity became known.
He drove through Grosvenor Square and turned down Davies Street. At Mount Street, he steered left toward the Grosvenor Mews and immediately caught sight of a young man dressed in dark clothing near the entrance. No, not a young man, but a young woman in a disguise. Would she have fooled him if he hadn’t known to look for her? He would never know.
Smiling, he came to a stop as she bounded toward him. She stopped at the cabriolet and pursed her lips.
“Do you need help?” he asked.
“No. This is just new.” She hoisted herself up into the seat and grinned at him. “I think I could get used to it. I feel so light. So free.”
Rafe chuckled. “But you look so fetching in a gown.” He suspected her backside was even more attractive in this costume, but the tails of her coat thankfully prevented his temptation to look.
“Why, thank you,” she said with a nod as he drove them toward Bond Street and then Piccadilly when they would head east. “Perhaps I could commission a more feminine version of this costume.”
“How would that look?”
“I don’t know a thing about clothing design, but probably ruffles.” She made a face. “I don’t love ruffles. Perhaps it’s just the fabric or color. Something like this in a light blue silk? On second thought, I’ve met gentlemen who wear such things.” She sighed. “I suppose I’m doomed to gowns.”
He considered suggesting that she might be most comfortable not wearing anything at all, but that would drive their conversation into a realm best left unoccupied. Especially today when they were alone. Again.
