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

by Darcy Burke

  “And you never once thought to alert our father or the authorities? You had no hesitation about killing a man and his five-year-old son?” Selina’s voice was rough with anger and despair.

  “I did.” Pauline closed her eyes briefly and pushed her head back into the pillow. “But I was young and foolish.”

  “Greedy,” Selina said tightly, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Fortunately for you, there is still time to do something right,” Rafe said.

  “What’s that?” Pauline’s lids drooped as she looked up at them.

  “You’ll provide testimony to a clerk in the event that you don’t live long enough to testify at the trial.”

  She shook her head so hard that she started coughing once more. Rafe glanced at Selina, but she continued to stare malevolently at the woman in the bed.

  He went and picked up the glass of water, then waited for her coughing to subside before helping her to take a few sips.

  “I can’t do that,” Pauline croaked.

  Selina violently uncrossed her arms, elbowing Rafe in the process. “Why not? You can’t be afraid for your life. It’s nearly at an end.”

  “No, but I won’t cause trouble for my sister and her husband. They’ve been good to me. Lord knows I don’t deserve it. But they don’t deserve the taint of being associated with someone like me and what I’ve done.”

  Rafe clenched his hands into fists as fury tightened every one of his muscles. “So you’ll let a murderer go unpunished. You were party to the deaths of our parents and the servants who also died in that fire. And you allowed my sister and me to be forever changed.” Damaged.

  “You’re a monster,” Selina whispered.

  Pauline had the gall to raise her chin and give them a clear-eyed stare. “I could have lied to you, but I told you the truth. I will go to my grave with a clearer conscience at least. You can either look backward or you can look to your future. It looks rather wonderful, doesn’t it?”

  Rafe snorted. “That was precisely the fucking nonsense your brother said as he used us for his own gain and then sold us to a criminal.” He turned his head to Selina. “We should have brought your husband.”

  “Yes. In fact, I’ll see if he can come tomorrow. I’m confident there is ample reason for him to arrest her.”

  “What?” Pauline started coughing once more, more violently than she had yet. Her face turned red.

  “My husband is a Bow Street Runner,” Selina said with clear satisfaction. “You’ve admitted your crime to us. Unless you’d care to change your mind about speaking with a clerk who will take your testimony?”

  “Water, please,” Pauline rasped. When neither Rafe nor Selina moved, she nodded vigorously. “I’ll talk to the clerk.”

  Selina went to pour more water and brought her the glass. She even helped the invalid drink. Pauline continued to cough, and her sister returned.

  “Oh, Polly, you’ve worn yourself out.” She looked toward Rafe and Selina. “I think you must let her rest now. It’s time for her medicine.”

  Rafe pinned Pauline with a dark stare. “The clerk will be here tomorrow. Don’t die before then.”

  Mrs. Gill gasped and drew her hand to her chest as her eyes widened. “What a terrible thing to say.”

  “Your sister has done far worse,” Selina bit out in a clipped tone. She hesitated before looking toward Pauline once more. The anger seemed to drain from her as he shoulders sagged and her features turned sad. “You used to sing Lavender Blue to me. All I remember is my mother’s coral necklace and that song.” Her voice was soft and haunting. It broke what remained of Rafe’s heart.

  Tears filled Pauline’s eyes again. “I loved you. I thought you and your mother would be fine. Your uncle promised me that. I am so sorry for my part in what happened.”

  Mrs. Gill frowned at her sister. “Polly, what are you talking about?”

  Pauline weakly lifted her hand in a feeble wave. “Later. I need to sleep.” She seemed to sink deeper into the bedclothes. Her eyes closed.

  Rafe gritted his teeth and lightly touched his sister’s back to guide her to the door. Selina didn’t move, however. “Did that necklace burn in the fire?” she asked.

  It took a moment for Pauline to respond, and she didn’t open her eyes. “No. You had it. She came to the nursery to make sure you got out of the house. You wanted her, but she needed to go find your father. You reached for her and grabbed the necklace. It came off, and you held on to it as we left the house.”

  Rafe’s heart broke again as he watched the despair carve deep lines into his sister’s face. Her back bowed with the weight of her grief.

  “I made sure it was with you when Edgar took you.”

  Was it possible, then, that the necklace Beatrix had given to Selina had belonged to their mother?

  “When the clerk comes tomorrow to take your testimony, he’s going to bring a necklace. You will tell him if it’s the same one. I am not certain it is, but you will know.”

  Pauline didn’t respond.

  “I’m sorry, but you must go,” Mrs. Gill pleaded.

  “You’ll keep me apprised of her condition,” Rafe said. “Send word to me at Upper Brook Street in London. Tomorrow, a clerk will come to take her testimony about the matter we discussed today. You must admit him, do you understand?”

  Mrs. Gill nodded.

  Rafe inclined his head, then guided Selina from the room. They walked in silence from the inn and waited to speak until they were seated in the coach on their way back to London.

  Selina stared out the window as they drove north through Redfield. “She may die before the clerk arrives.”

  “She probably will, just to spite us.”

  “Our uncle is a murderer,” she said quietly, her gaze fixed outside the coach.

  “Yes. I want to kill him, Lina.”

  She turned her head toward him then, her blue eyes dark and piercing in their intensity. “No. You are not a murderer.”

  “You know that’s not true.” He’d told her what he’d done to the man who’d killed his pregnant wife, the man who’d brutally ripped away the best part of Rafe. “When it comes to those I love, I will do anything.” His throat burned, threatening to close with emotion. “I worked so hard to protect you, to keep you safe. None of it mattered. I failed. What you said in there—”

  She held up her hand. “I was upset. Besides Beatrix, the only other person who knows what happened to me when I was a governess is Harry. And don’t ask me who my employer was, because it doesn’t matter. That was twelve years ago. I left, and I’ve never looked back.”

  Rafe understood wanting to bury the horrors of the past. “I’m so bloody sorry. I never should have left you at that school.”

  “You did the best you could. Regardless of what happened to me, it was probably better than if I’d stayed in London. You know that to be true.”

  He did, but learning what had happened after she left the school, when she was supposed to have been embarking on a bright future that he’d made possible, absolutely crushed him. He did his best to hide that fact.

  “Back to Mallory,” Selina said with a shake of her head and taking a deep breath. “You can’t kill him. I would much prefer to see his crimes made public and for him to hang. Harry will help us. There is no one better.”

  While Rafe understood her need for a public accounting for their uncle’s crimes, he didn’t share it. He only cared that the man paid with his life. It would be easy enough for Rafe to ask someone from his past to take care of the deed. The counterfeit Earl of Stone could die at the hands of a footpad.

  Except Rafe knew firsthand that the man’s death would do nothing to ease the pain. He’d ended Samuel Partridge, but it hadn’t brought Eliza back, nor had it assuaged the piercing ache of losing her. Only time had made that less difficult to bear.

  So Rafe would gladly witness his uncle’s public shame and degradation when his crimes were exposed. Then he would watch the vile man’s body d
angle from a rope.

  “We need more evidence,” Rafe said flatly. “Even if Pauline survives to tell her tale to the clerk, it will be her testimony—that of a dead woman—against that of our uncle, who has been a respected member of Society his entire life.” Rafe wanted to hit something.

  Her gaze darkened. “Then we’ll get more evidence. Perhaps the clerk Harry sent to Stonehaven will learn something.”

  “It would be best if we could send word before he returns to London, alerting him of what we’ve learned. However, that will be difficult given Stonehaven’s distance.” It was a three-day journey by coach in the most favorable of weather.

  Selina returned to looking out the window as they left Redhill behind. Rafe focused his white-hot rage into a cold determination for revenge.

  After some time, Selina asked, “What if we could get him to confess?”

  Rafe wasn’t sure that would be possible. “I don’t know him well enough to say. I suppose we could try.” Christ, how? If only they knew him better or knew someone who did, who could provoke him…

  Anne.

  She’d known him her entire life. He looked at her as another daughter, and in fact, might even care for her more than his own daughter. It was perhaps his only redeeming quality.

  No, Rafe wouldn’t even give him that. In fact, when he thought of Mallory holding affection toward Anne, Rafe grew more furious.

  “You’re thinking of something,” Selina said.

  “Yes, but don’t ask me what. I don’t know if it will work.” He couldn’t reveal the truth to Anne and risk her telling her godfather. “We need to keep what we learned today to ourselves—and Harry.”

  “And Beatrix. I don’t keep secrets from her.”

  Rafe exhaled. “Fine. But she and Rockbourne must swear secrecy.”

  Selina nodded. “They will. You’ll be the earl soon. Things will get even easier then.”

  Perhaps. Rafe put no trust in such things. He trusted his sister and himself.

  And he was going to do whatever necessary to make their uncle pay for his crimes. Even if he had to use Anne to do it.

  Chapter 10

  Two days felt like a lifetime, particularly when Anne had no idea how many more days it would be before she saw Rafe again. She wandered downstairs to the library and ran into Jane, who promptly frowned.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Anne asked.

  Jane’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you look like that?”

  “Like what?” Anne tried to sound light and even lifted her shoulder in the hope of conveying a careless attitude. She was fairly certain she’d failed spectacularly given the deepening concern in Jane’s brow.

  “As if you’ve just received the most disappointing news. You haven’t, have you?”

  What would that even be? Anne tried to think of the most disappointing thing. Not ever seeing Rafe again. And since she currently had no plans to do so, yes, she supposed it was the equivalent of the most disappointing news ever. God, she was a pathetic mess of unrequited love.

  “I have not,” Anne said, debating whether to confide in Jane about what had happened between her and Rafe the other day.

  The butler came into the library, interrupting anything Anne might have said. “Lady Colton, Mr. Mallory is here to see Miss Pemberton.”

  “Please show him in,” Jane said.

  After the butler departed, Jane looked toward Anne, her brows climbing. “He’s calling on you?”

  Anne’s heart pounded, and her belly flipped. “I wasn’t expecting him to.”

  “That explains your demeanor,” Jane said with a light smile. “I’ll leave you alone, but with the door open, and I’ll sit just outside. Not to eavesdrop, but to pretend there’s just a bit of propriety happening.” She winked at Anne just before Rafe stepped into the room.

  Everything faded into the background around him. He looked spectacular, his golden hair combed into a perfect, rakish style, his dark gray costume with burgundy waistcoat fitting his physique impeccably. Anne’s throat went dry as she recalled their last encounter, when she’d been stripped nearly bare in his embrace. Her pulse raced as a thrilling heat swept through her.

  He bowed his head. “Lady Colton. Miss Pemberton.”

  “Lord—” Anne stopped herself. “Mr. Mallory.” He was not yet Lord Stone. Nevertheless, she’d wondered if he was an earl on the very day they’d met. Perhaps there was something intrinsically noble about him.

  The butler left, and Jane stepped toward the door. “Good afternoon, Mr. Mallory. I presume you’d like to speak with my sister. I’ll be just outside.” She glanced toward Anne before departing the library.

  Rafe walked toward her. “Your sister is very accommodating. What does she know?”

  “She knows about our…friendship, how I feel about you.” She looked up at him, her body swaying, aching for his touch. “I did not tell her any specifics about the other day.” Warmth rose in her cheeks to match the heat in her core.

  “I came to ask a favor, if I may.” He was being very reserved. Was that because the door was open? Or because he truly wasn’t going to continue their…whatever it was?

  “Shall we sit?” She gestured to the settee to her left.

  At his nod, she perched on the edge, angling herself toward him. He also sat somewhat sideways, facing her. Their knees nearly touched. They were so close, but the bare inch felt as though it were a canyon.

  Anne couldn’t imagine what favor she could grant him. At least not one that matched his current behavior. “I gather this is not a favor of a…personal nature?”

  His eyes flickered with heat. “No.” Some of the anticipation curling through Anne dissipated. “I would like to get to know my uncle.”

  This surprised her, but she was pleased. “I think that’s wonderful.”

  “It seems I should. I haven’t ever had family beyond my sister, and we’ve been apart for some time.” He looked away from her. “I will never get my father back, but it seems his brother might be the next best thing.” He said the last few words slowly, as if he were choosing his words with care.

  Anne smiled, glad that he’d come to this decision and that he’d sought her out to help. “This is brilliant. You’d like my assistance?”

  He nodded. “I’m not sure how, but he’s like a second father to you, isn’t he?”

  “I suppose he is. In some ways, I like him better than my father, particularly after learning how my father treated Jane.” She shook her head, not wishing to revisit that just now. “Now that my father is gone—at least for now—my godfather has taken it upon himself to fulfill a parental role.” She chuckled. “Whether I want him to or not.”

  “And do you want him to?”

  While Anne wasn’t keen on reentering Society for the purposes of finding a husband—and that was clearly what her godfather wanted her to do—she couldn’t deny that it was nice to have him there. She’d always had parents, and now that she didn’t, it was strange. Perhaps even a bit…lonely. “I suppose I do. I appreciate that he cares about my welfare and my happiness. Especially after what happened with Gilbert. Except, he thinks I should marry immediately.” She twitched her shoulders. “Why do so many people think marriage is the answer to everything?”

  “I surely don’t know,” he said drily. “I would never suggest such a thing.”

  No, she imagined he wouldn’t, particularly given his experience. She pondered how to bring them together. It was a difficult, sensitive situation. First, she should gauge her godfather’s current sentiment. He’d been very upset after the dinner on Monday.

  “You should spend time together,” she said. “Perhaps in a group at first, but then just the two of you.” An idea struck her. “Sandon, I mean, Lorcan is lovely. If you wouldn’t mind, I could also speak to him. I do believe he feels a slight relief that you’ve returned. He is far more in love with that Irish estate than fulfilling any duties here, which would be required after his father dies.” She shuddered. �
��How I detest thinking of such things.”

  “Death comes to us all, Anne,” he said quietly. Again, she felt a pang of sorrow. And regret for making the comment knowing what she knew, that death had been a central part of his life.

  After a moment, Rafe said, “Lorcan seems…pleasant. The most pleasant of the three of them, anyway. Please, whatever you organize, leave Deborah out if you can?” He gave her a pleading look that made her smile.

  “I will do my best. She can be unpleasant.” Anne frowned. It was more than that. “Hearing that she was cruel to Beatrix and Selina has made me question my relationship with her.”

  “Good.”

  The sharp one-word response drew Anne to snap her gaze to his. She glimpsed that darkness in him once more, and a faint shiver tripped across her shoulders.

  “I’ll try to arrange something soon—a dinner here, if Jane and Anthony are amenable,” she suggested. “After that, perhaps you can go riding with Lorcan and my godfather.”

  “No.” The word was as crisp and definitive as the one he’d uttered a moment before. “I don’t ride.”

  She knew he didn’t like riding, but hadn’t realized that meant he didn’t. “At all?”

  “I never learned. I wasn’t raised to be an earl, Anne.”

  She knew that, of course. But she realized there were still many, many things she didn’t know about him. Things she wondered if she’d ever know. “They could teach you.”

  An abrupt laugh spilled from him, and he shook his head. “Definitely not.”

  “Why not? You said yourself that your father can’t return, so why not look to your uncle to teach you?”

  That darkness pulsed from him once more, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “My father gave me a pony and had started to teach me. I don’t think I could let my uncle continue the tutelage. That is too…close.” He looked away again, his features tense, his body stiff.

  Anne touched his leg and scooted slightly toward him so their knees touched. “I’m sorry. I should have realized. I suppose since I think of your uncle as family, I want you to think of him in the same way. Particularly since he is your family.”