by Darcy Burke
“Your sister really didn’t mind you coming out with me today?”
“She understood that I was going to find a way. She also knows we will be far from Mayfair. And she thought my costume did a good job of disguising that I am a woman. Do you agree?”
“I don’t think I can answer that objectively. I know you’re a woman. I can’t forget you’re a woman. Not even for a moment.” Hell, he’d walked right into that forbidden realm after all.
He stole a glance in her direction and saw that she looked rather pleased. He stifled a smile.
“I was sorry about how the dinner went on Monday, especially Deborah’s behavior. How were Selina and Beatrix afterward?”
Rafe didn’t want to talk about the dinner or his uncle or anything to do with the massive disruption that was about to take over his life. He did, however, appreciate her concern. “They are fine. My cousin is unpleasant. To clarify, I mean Deborah. I think I might actually like Lorcan.”
“He was thrilled about Kilmaar. You are incredibly kind.”
“What need have I for an estate in Ireland?” He’d wondered what it had meant to his father, if anything. He had a hundred questions—a thousand or more, really—about his father. The hope he’d had that his uncle might answer them was thin. The man was in turmoil, and while Rafe couldn’t blame him, he didn’t know if they’d ever be able to have a normal family relationship. Was that what Rafe wanted, some sort of surrogate father?
“Still, it was a lovely gesture, and it will help with the healing, I think.”
With their healing. How would it help with Rafe’s? He wanted information, needed it so he could find out why he and his sister had been kidnapped. This was not where he wanted to spend his thoughts today. “Do you mind if we not talk about my uncle or cousins or the earldom? Today, I want to simply be Rafe Bowles.”
“Yes, of course!” She touched his arm. “My apologies. I want that too. In fact, you should be Lord Bodyguard while I am Mrs. Dazzling.”
“Mrs. Dazzling in a men’s costume.”
She laughed. “Just so. Why did you and your sister have different surnames? She was Blackwell before she married Sheffield, wasn’t she?”
“I was Blackwell too,” he said carefully. This was flirting with the topic he wanted to avoid as well as the subject he couldn’t reveal under any circumstances—his criminal behavior. “When I moved to Mayfair, I took a different name. Bowles just sounded more elegant.” How awful that sounded to his ears. He might as well declare the fact that he was a fraud. But was he, if he was actually an earl?
“Where did you live before? I know it was London.”
Much too close to things he didn’t want to disclose. If Anne ever learned what he’d been, what he’d done… She’d never look at him the same way again. And he rather loved the way she looked at him. As if he were her knight or, more accurately, her Lord Bodyguard.
“Since that was before I was Rafe Bowles, I can’t discuss that today,” he said with what he hoped was a careless charm.
“You did say that. I’m afraid I am overcome with curiosity about you. I want to know everything.”
He realized she was still touching his arm. That, coupled with her enthusiasm about him, was a heady combination. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to get lost in that forbidden realm with her. And he couldn’t. Not even for a kiss.
Did he really think they would get through this day without kissing?
Rafe usually tried to be unflinchingly honest with himself. Perhaps with her, he was indulging in a bit of delusion. That was beyond dangerous.
She settled back against the seat. “Tell me about Magazine Day.”
“People come in droves to buy magazines at a discount since it is the end of the month and new periodicals will be available tomorrow.”
“I shall rely upon you to steer me to the best ones.”
“Are you going to buy some?” he asked. “I though you just wanted to watch people.”
“I haven’t decided. It’s amusing that you thought I wanted to come to watch people when I really wanted to do this in order to spend time with you.”
From the corner of his eye, he could tell she was looking at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a more straightforward woman.”
“I shall take that as a compliment.”
“I meant it as one.” He couldn’t help smiling as he drove down the Haymarket toward Charing Cross.
“What food or drink will you be foisting on me today?” she asked.
“Foisting? I didn’t make you try oysters or caviar or coffee.”
“No, you did not. I love that you introduced them to me. Perhaps we’ll find an oyster cart.”
“Not in Paternoster Row, but I know of one we can visit later.” He looked at her askance. “You truly like oysters?”
She nodded. “Not caviar, though. Sorry.”
He chuckled. “We’ll see what else we can sample today. You are a very curious person, Mrs. Dazzling, and we should feed that curiosity.”
As before, Rafe parked the cabriolet off Paternoster Row and left it in the care of his tiger, a boy of twelve he’d rescued from Petticoat Lane several years before. Anne had sat in the vehicle a moment before jumping down.
She let out a sheepish laugh. “I forgot I’m supposed to be a man.”
“I did too. I nearly offered you my arm.” He was disappointed they had no reason to touch. “Be sure and stay close to me. It will be crowded.”
At her nod, they walked to Paternoster Row. “My goodness, this is very busy!” Her gaze scanned the throng of people and the vehicles clogging the street.
They moved much more slowly than their last visit, stopping to peruse magazines and navigating the crowd. As they reached the front of a bookseller’s shop, a child darted from the establishment followed by the shopkeeper, who yelled, “Stop! Thief!”
Rafe moved without thinking, slipping between people and heading the child off before he could get away through the thick crowd. He grabbed the child by the coat. His hat fell off, and dark strands of hair tumbled free past his shoulders. He tried to pull himself out of the coat in order to escape, but Rafe knew that trick well. Sweeping his arm around the child, Rafe scooped him—her?—up and carried him back toward the bookshop.
Hell, Anne. Rafe looked over the heads of those around him and sighted her immediately. She’d made her way toward him but hadn’t quite gotten there. Her eyes widened as she saw he carried the child.
Rafe inclined his head toward the bookshop, and Anne nodded in response. Damn. He didn’t really want her to witness this, but he couldn’t leave her alone outside, even if she was disguised as a man.
“Put me down!” Definitely a girl. She kicked at Rafe’s legs and hit him in the back.
“Don’t run. And don’t steal from me.” He set her down but didn’t release her. “Agreed?”
She wasn’t as much of a child as he’d thought, just small. He estimated she was maybe fifteen.
She glared at him, her dark eyes spitting fire, and dropped the book she was clutching to the floor. “I didn’t really want it anyway.”
“Yes, you did, and I’m going to let you take it, but only after you tell me why you want it and what you plan to do with it.”
The fire in her eyes sputtered, and her lips parted. She snapped them closed and turned her head toward the shopkeeper. John, a tall, thin man in his late fifties with an austere face, stood to Rafe’s left and just behind him. Despite his forbidding appearance, he was one of the kindest people Rafe knew.
The girl looked back to Rafe. “I like to read.”
“Good. Don’t stop. Where do you live?”
She raised her chin and glowered at him. That was the only answer he was going to get, and he understood why. If someone knew where she lived, they could attack her. It was the same reason she dressed herself to look like a boy. This is how Selina would have been forced to live if Rafe hadn’t sent her away to school.
“Do you have w
ork?” Rafe asked.
She hesitated but shook her head. He also understood what that meant—she stole to survive.
“But the book was for you, not to sell for money?”
She nodded, then shot a glance toward Anne, who’d entered the shop and stood a few feet away, effectively blocking the door.
Rafe let go of the girl. “You’re going to come here every morning except Sunday and sweep the shop. You’ll also do whatever tasks Mr. Entwhistle directs you to do.” He looked at John, who didn’t reflect even a glimmer of surprise. Rafe then fixed an expectant stare on her. “Agreed?”
“What’s wrong with your eye?” she asked, staring at the orange spot.
“It’s how I find children like you. You need to stop stealing. You’re going to get caught.”
She looked away, pressing her lips together. She knew he was right. He could smell the fear beneath her bravado.
Rafe knew how to win her over completely. “If you need a room, you can have one upstairs.” John lived over the shop, but on the uppermost floor, there were a handful of rooms where other young people—mostly boys—had stayed for a time. Rafe had helped all of them find employment.
Rafe picked up the book she’d taken. It was a collection of Greek mythology stories. “Do you like Greek history and culture?”
She shrugged.
“After you read it, tell Mr. Entwhistle what you think.” He handed her the book. “Do we have a deal?”
“You’re just giving me the book?” She stared at him dubiously.
“I trust you’ll be back—for the job, if not the room. I hope you’ll take both.”
She clutched the book to her chest and stared at him a moment longer before turning and nearly colliding with Anne. “You’re a woman.”
Anne’s gaze met Rafe’s briefly before she smiled at the girl. “Yes. What’s your name? Seems like your future employer should know it.”
“I haven’t decided if I’m taking the job.”
“Oh, you must. I can highly recommend his character,” Anne said, flicking a glance toward Rafe that made his breath catch. “You won’t regret it, I promise. I’m Anne, by the way.”
“I’m Annie,” she said shyly. While Rafe couldn’t see her face, he could hear her tone, and he detected the slight curl of her shoulders.
Anne laughed softly. “Then we were destined to meet. You must take this offer of employment and lodging.”
“Are you his wife?” she asked, prompting Rafe to freeze.
“Er, no.” Anne’s gaze found his again, but only briefly. “Just a friend.”
“All right, I’ll take the job. Will you come back to visit?” Annie asked.
“Definitely. I’ll bring you something cheerful for your room upstairs. If you don’t mind.”
Annie shook her head. “I don’t.”
“It’s settled, then.” Anne looked toward the book in Annie’s arms. “I will also read that book so we may discuss it. Would you like that?”
“I would. Thank you.” Annie turned her head to look at Rafe. “Thank you too.”
“See you in the morning,” John called with a wave. “Unless you come back later. I’ll have the room ready if you do.”
Annie nodded before departing the shop far more sedately than when she’d run out the first time.
Anne came toward Rafe, her eyes softening and her lips curling into a lovely smile. “You are much more than a bodyguard. You are a hero, despite what you think. You own this shop?”
“I do. You were wonderful with her.”
“She needs kindness as much as anyone. I was merely taking your lead.” She looked past him at John. “Is he always like this?”
Rafe pivoted so he could see them both.
John gave her a small smile. “Yes.”
“How wonderful,” she murmured. “I should have realized you owned a shop here, given how much you like the street. And books. How long have you owned this shop?”
Once again, they were venturing too close to things he didn’t want to share. Except, he almost wanted to. “Several years.”
“Earls don’t typically own shops.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”
Rafe shot a look toward John, whose brow creased with confusion. He’d have to explain everything to the shopkeeper. There were so many people he needed to explain this to.
Turning back toward Anne, Rafe gestured toward the door. “Shall we go across the street to the coffee house?”
“Yes, but first I need a copy of that book.” She went to John. “Would you mind directing me to where I can find it?”
John moved to a display with a stack of books and plucked one from the table. “Nearly our last copy. It’s been very popular.”
“Annie made a good choice, then.” Anne took the book and then reached into her pocket, presumably for money to make the purchase.
“Consider it a gift.” Rafe ignored the elevated eyebrows of the shopkeeper.
“Thank you.” She didn’t turn away from John. Instead, she asked him a question. “You’ve known Mr. Bowles for some time?”
The confusion he’d displayed when she’d mentioned earls flashed across his features. John coughed. “Yes, Mr. Bowles.”
Rafe pressed his lips together. “Come, Mrs. D.” He clasped her elbow gently.
Anne waved at John and bid him goodbye before they left the shop. “Should I not have called you Mr. Bowles? You have too many identities.”
A laugh caught in his throat. He coughed instead. “Yes.”
“Hopefully, you will tell me all of them someday.” She gave him a warm smile as he guided her carefully across the street between the slow-moving vehicles.
Rafe would never do that—not all of them. He wanted to regain the lighthearted air they’d enjoyed before Annie had tried to steal from his shop. “Can Lord Bodyguard be the only one that counts? At least, as far as you’re concerned.”
She looked up at him as they approached the door to the coffee shop. “It will always be.”
A tremor rippled through him, and he hated that he’d told her to dress like a man. He couldn’t touch her in any way he wanted to, not even to help her into the shop.
Chapter Coffee House was more crowded than on their last visit. Still, Rafe was able to secure them a table at the back. “Tea?” he asked.
Anne took one of the two chairs at the small, round table. “Coffee, please.” She gave him a serene look and folded her hands in her lap.
He leaned down and whispered, “You’re sitting like a lady. Put one hand on your knee and spread your legs a bit.”
She blushed slightly but did as he suggested.
“And stop blushing.” The urge to press his lips against the outer edge of her ear or trail his tongue down to her earlobe was nearly overwhelming. He hurriedly took himself to the counter and ordered their coffees.
Belatedly, he realized he should have asked her why she was ordering coffee when she clearly didn’t like it. He’d been too distracted.
Shaking himself, he carried their cups back to the table and set them down. He took his seat, noting that her regular color had returned and she was doing her best not to sit like a lady. In fact, her legs were rather far apart, and goddammit if he wasn’t distracted all over again.
“Why are you drinking coffee?” he asked, sounding disgruntled because of his unbridled lust. God, was that it? Yes. Anne had tied him in knots since practically the moment they’d met. “You don’t like it.”
“Don’t I?” She arched her brow as she gave him a saucy look. Picking up the cup, she took a long sip, then sighed with contentment as she put it down. “I’ve spent the last three months learning to like it. Now, I’m afraid I can’t get through the morning without my cup of coffee.”
He stared at her. She’d learned to like it? “Why would you do that?”
“Because it reminded me of you.” She took another sip. “Just don’t ask me to like caviar, because I don’t
think I can do that.”
The merriment in her eyes was intoxicating. It reminded him of a time before things had felt so heavy upon him. Before he’d lowered his defenses too much. It was a fine balance to feel just the right amount—enough to be thrilled but not so much as to become obsessed. He feared he was already on the edge. Or perhaps even past it. “I won’t. The coffee is a delightful surprise.”
She looked down at her cup as she ran her fingertip along the rim. She wore gloves, and they were too large for her hands, so he couldn’t see her femininity. He could in her face, however. The long sweep of her lashes and the plump curve of her lips declared her womanhood. It wasn’t as if he needed to see any of it, for he was all too aware of who she was and the effect she had upon him.
“I know you don’t want to talk about your past,” she said quietly. “At least not today. But will you tell me how you came to help children such as Annie?” She gave him a tentative look, and he wasn’t able to deny the earnest curiosity in her gaze.
He chose his words very particularly. For some reason, he wanted to share things with her. Perhaps because of the way she saw him, the manner in which she didn’t make assumptions but truly tried to know him. As if anyone could.
“Selina and I didn’t grow up with much,” he said slowly. “I’ve worked very hard to get where I am.”
“How?”
That was the part he wouldn’t reveal, no matter how good she made him feel or how much he thought he could trust her. Did he? Trust came hard to him, almost as hard as it did for his sister.
“I was fortunate to inherit that bookstore and a small amount of money, which I invested carefully. I will never forget how difficult it was when I was young, however.”
“After you were kidnapped from your home.” She reached across the table to touch him, but swiftly snatched her hand back. “I suppose I can’t really touch you looking the way I do.”
“No.” At the mention of his kidnapping, he stiffened.
“Well, I think it’s lovely that you help children like Annie.”
