by Darcy Burke
He put his hand on hers. “It’s fine. This is not easy. That’s why I came to you for help. I don’t know where to begin.”
She nodded once. “We’ll start with a dinner—without Deborah. I’ll speak with Lorcan and explain that my goal is to bring you and your uncle together. It’s for the good of everyone. Lorcan will see that, and my godfather will too. Eventually. Once he’s grown accustomed to how things must change.”
“How long will that be, I wonder?” There was a sardonic quality to his tone that prompted her to take his hand between both of hers.
“Have faith,” she said. “You have a family, and while families can be incredibly disappointing, they can also be lovely. I am going to hope that yours will be the latter.”
“Unlike yours. Your sister notwithstanding,” he said. “You have no contact with your parents at all?”
A ripple of discomfort passed through her. “Not at present. I can’t yet forgive them for Jane. I will in time. For now, it’s good to have distance.”
They sat in silence for a moment, his gloved hand between her bare ones. She idly wondered if he would mind if she stripped the offending accessory away.
“Would it be all right if I came to the dinner I arrange for you and my godfather?” she asked.
“I expect you to be there. Please.”
She’d thought so, but wanted to be sure. “And will that be the only time I see you?”
His gaze riveted to hers. “It should be.”
Between his words, she heard the barest chance for something more. She would seize any opportunity. There was an undercurrent between them now. Where they’d always been at least slightly flirtatious, this was more. There was a depth, a need, to their connection.
“I’d like to visit Annie soon,” she said.
He arched a brow. “You’ve neatly arranged that, haven’t you? A reason for us to be together.”
She prickled at his words. “I didn’t arrange it,” she said sharply. “I told Annie I would visit, that I would bring her something for her room, and I am a woman of my word.”
“Of course you are.” His tone softened. “My apologies. I meant it as a joke, and it came out badly.” He exhaled and clasped one of her hands. “I’m so often unbalanced with you.” He tipped his head to the side and regarded her with a seductive curiosity.
Her insides fluttered with giddiness. “As I am with you.”
“Indeed? You seem confident and assured, as if you know exactly what you want.”
“I do. I want you. I’ve made no secret of that. Whether you come with me or not, I will see Annie.”
His finger stroked the inside of her wrist. Was he aware of it? “When?”
An insistent desire pulsed from where he touched her wrist. “Monday, I think.”
“You can’t go alone. I’ll take you.”
“I wouldn’t go alone. I’d take Jane probably.” But I’d rather go with you.
“Would that be better?” he asked. “Perhaps she doesn’t approve of you going out with me a second time. I notice she left the door open today as opposed to when she allowed you to be alone with me at my house with the door closed.”
“She’ll let me go because she knows I’ll go anyway. Shall I dress as a man or a woman?”
There was a slight hiss as he sucked in a breath, his gaze moving over her and eliciting a response just as potent as if he touched her. Anne tingled everywhere, particularly where he teased her wrist. And his finger wasn’t even bare.
“A woman, please.” The request was low and thick. “Wear your veil. I’ll pick you up in the mews again.”
She nodded because her voice seemed to have deserted her.
He lifted her arm and pressed his lips to that spot inside her wrist that now burned from his touch. His eyes met hers. “Irresistible.”
“Am I?” she breathed.
“We’ll see.” He set her hand in her lap and stood. “I’ll fetch you at one on Monday.”
Anne rose, her legs wobbly. “I’ll speak with my godfather and let you know what he says.”
“Thank you.” He bowed his head to her and left.
Trembling, she sank back down onto the settee. She was vaguely aware of voices just outside the library before Jane came in. Anne composed herself, sitting straighter and tucking the usual stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“What did he want?” Jane asked without preamble as she sat next to Anne on the settee.
“You didn’t hear?”
Jane rolled her eyes with a smile. “I told you I wouldn’t eavesdrop, and I meant it.”
“He asked for my help with getting to know his uncle.”
“Oh.” Jane sounded disappointed. “That’s all?”
“Yes and no. I asked if we could return to Paternoster Row so that I may visit a girl I met on our last visit. She works in a bookshop there, and I promised we would discuss the book she was reading. She’s an orphan.” Anne wanted to share how Rafe had helped her, but it seemed he kept that part of himself private. She should ask him first.
“That’s lovely of you. Is he going to take you?” There was a slight hesitation to her question and in her expression.
“Yes, on Monday. I know it isn’t wise of me to go out with him again, particularly since I am not going to wear a disguise. I will wear a veil, however.”
“Anne, your reputation barely survived the wedding debacle.” She winced. “You know I hate saying that.”
“I do. But it was a debacle.” Anne had discovered the truth about her extortionist betrothed. Jane had learned that their parents had believed the salacious rumors about her five years prior. Anthony had bared his transgressions to the world in order to see Gilbert prosecuted. Debacle was perhaps an understatement.
Jane gave her a sad smile. “You can’t keep seeing him. I hope you aren’t…taking unnecessary risks.”
Anne was fairly certain what she meant. “We’re not having sex, if that’s what you’re referring to.” She took a deep breath. “Please don’t ask me not to go. I made a promise to Annie, and I can’t resist spending one more afternoon with him.”
“If only you didn’t love him,” Jane said softly and with great understanding.
“If only.” Anne rubbed her thumb along her wrist where he’d touched her, kissed her.
“What are you going to do to help him with Stone?” Jane shook her head. “Mallory. Oh bother, when will their names be settled?”
“I don’t know about the earldom.” Anne had been too distracted to ask how things were going on that front. The current earl would almost certainly ask her when she spoke with him, and she would have nothing to say. Which was fine with her. “I will try to solicit Lorcan’s help. This transition is very hard for his father. I do hope he and Rafe can find an accord. They’re family, after all.”
“You know that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Families can be terrible to each other.” Jane’s bitterness toward their parents, especially their father, had lessened over the past few weeks, but there was a hurt Anne wasn’t sure would ever go away.
“In this case, neither my godfather nor Rafe did anything to harm the other so I hope they will be able to move forward. Would you mind hosting a dinner for the three of them? And us of course. I thought it might be best to get together on neutral ground.”
“An excellent idea,” Jane said. “Just them and Sandon, sorry, Lorcan? Not Deborah?”
“No, Rafe asked if we could exclude her, and I can’t say I blame him.”
“Me neither.” Jane wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never liked her. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I am well aware she aggravates most people. She seems to like doing that.” In fact, Anne was surprised she’d hadn’t yet stirred up trouble for Beatrix or Selina by bringing up their acquaintance at boarding school.
“I’m sure it won’t be a problem to host a dinner. I’ll speak with Anthony. I assume you’d like to do it sooner rather than later?”
“Yes, please.�
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Jane nodded. “I won’t tell Anthony about your excursion on Monday, just as I didn’t tell him about the first time.”
“I’m not asking you to lie to him,” Anne said. She would never want to come between her sister and her husband.
“I know. But this is your private business, and he would understand that.” She took Anne’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t let Stone, Mallory, whatever you call him, take anything you aren’t willing to give.”
Anne would give him anything. He already had her heart.
Jane spoke to Anthony straightaway, and he readily agreed to host a dinner for Rafe and his newfound family. Shortly thereafter, Anne and Jane arrived at Anne’s godfather’s house on Bruton Street just outside Berkeley Square.
His butler admitted them upstairs to the drawing room, and the soon-to-be-former earl joined them after a few minutes. Unfortunately, Lorcan was not at home. Anne had hoped he would be present for this conversation.
Her godfather smiled at them as he entered, but the usual brightness was missing. There were deep lines etched into his forehead and around his mouth, as if he’d spent the last week frowning since learning his time as the earl would soon come to an end.
“I’ll let the two of you speak in private,” Jane said.
The earl’s brows shot up briefly in surprise. “Thank you. There’s a chamber through there.” He pointed at a doorway.
Jane inclined her head and shot an encouraging look at Anne before leaving.
Anne sat down in a dark, puce-colored chair with polished wood arms. Her godfather took the identical chair angled nearby.
“Are you well?” Anne asked with concern. “You haven’t been far from my thoughts.”
“Thank you, my dear.” He grimaced. “It’s been a trying week.”
“I’m certain it has. I was hoping Lorcan would be here too.”
“Lorcan?” he asked, sniffing. “He’s still Sandon for the time being. Are you not thinking of me as the earl anymore?”
“You have always been and will continue to be my godfather.” Anne worried this was going to be even more difficult than she’d anticipated.
“Hmm. Will you think of him as the earl? My nephew?”
“When the title is his, yes.”
He harrumphed and looked away for a moment. When he returned his gaze to Anne, there was a frigidity that made her flinch. “Should it be? I have considered whether I ought to contest his claim.”
Anne stared at him. She had not expected this. “But it’s his birthright.”
“He wasn’t raised to be the earl. We know next to nothing about his character. He may be ill-suited to the rank.”
“It’s his birthright.” She knew she was repeating herself, but it was apparently necessary. “You can’t decide if he should be the earl or not.”
“That’s what the Committee for Privileges must do,” he said, flicking a speck from his knee. “They will decide if he’s worthy.”
Anne had to clench her teeth to stop herself from gaping at her godfather. He couldn’t really hope to keep the title from Rafe? His character was wonderful, better than most gentlemen she’d met. How many of them helped orphans who would surely end up on the street?
“Mr. Mallory’s character seems quite admirable,” she said with a calm she didn’t feel. “I can’t imagine he wouldn’t bring honor and integrity to the title.”
Her godfather’s eyes narrowed intently. “You speak as if you know him, but you’ve only met him on two occasions, isn’t that right?”
She wasn’t going to lie, so she ignored the question. “He lost his parents at a young age and had his identity stripped away. I can’t imagine you would contemplate denying him his birthright now.”
“It isn’t that, my dear.” His features relaxed into a mix of sympathy and sadness. “I only want what’s best for the earldom. Many, many people rely on me for their livelihood. I have responsibilities in the House of Lords. I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I didn’t question this man who has come from nowhere.”
“He didn’t come from nowhere.”
Her godfather stiffened. “Didn’t he? He appeared in Society this year, buying a very expensive house in Mayfair. Where did he come from that he has that kind of money, and why has no one met him before now? It’s all very peculiar.”
It wasn’t peculiar. He’d simply lived in another part of London. Wasn’t that what he’d told her? She realized he’d revealed very little beyond telling her about his wife. And he hadn’t shared anything about her either.
“I know this is hard for you, but he is the rightful earl. If he hadn’t been kidnapped, he would be the earl now. You gained from his loss. That’s not his fault, nor should he continue to suffer for it.”
“You’re quite defensive of him.”
“I would be of anyone in his position. Try to imagine having your very identity stolen and hidden.” She shook her head, her heart aching anew for Rafe. “It makes me incredibly sad.”
“You’ve a kind heart, Anne,” he said softly. “I haven’t decided what I will do.”
“Will you tell me if you plan to contest?” she asked.
“I will.”
How was she supposed to invite him for dinner now? Should she tell Rafe? She wouldn’t want him to be shocked if his claim was contested. But if her godfather decided not to contest, she would upset Rafe for nothing and perhaps permanently damage their relationship.
Wasn’t her godfather doing that already? How could he be a loving uncle to Rafe if he didn’t trust him?
There is much you don’t know about him.
The voice in the back of her mind was like an irritating fly buzzing about her head. She wanted to brush it away, but it was persistent and, unlike the fly, not without merit.
“My apologies, my dear,” he said with a faint smile. “You came here to pay me—and Sandon—a call. What can I do for you?”
Anne weighed whether to continue with her purpose for coming. Perhaps the act of trying to create a bridge between him and Rafe would help him come to accept the inevitable—Rafe was going to be the earl.
“I came to offer my help to you, actually,” she said brightly. “I think you and your nephew should get to know each other. You can ask him all the things you’re wondering and determine for yourself that he’ll be an excellent earl. Jane and Anthony have agreed to host a dinner. I thought”—she caught herself before calling him Lorcan again—“Sandon could join us.”
“And Deborah?”
“Ah, I hoped this first time could be just the three of you.”
He nodded. “A good instinct.” He surprised her by winking.
Anne relaxed slightly. She tried to see this situation from her godfather’s point of view. He’d inherited the earldom when he hadn’t expected to and done a wonderful job. As far as she knew, his estates were prosperous and he was an esteemed member of the Lords. It made sense that he wanted to make sure it would be in good hands.
“Come to dinner and spend time with Mr. Mallory,” she said. “You can teach him to be the earl he needs to be. He doesn’t have a father, and you are the closest thing he has.”
“As I said, you’ve a kind heart, and your speech is incredibly moving. It’s too bad you can’t become a member of Parliament.” His tone held a condescending edge that Anne had grown accustomed to in Society but that still grated her nerves.
She gave him a benign smile. “Perhaps someday that will change.” She stood. “I’ll let you know when the dinner will be. And you’ll let me know if you’re going to contest his claim?”
He rose. “I will.”
“I truly hope you don’t. I believe you’ll regret it.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I haven’t yet decided, but I must do what I think is best. That is my duty.”
Anne tried not to frown. She said goodbye, then went to fetch Jane. When they were settled in the coach, Anne recounted the meeting.
Jane sat
silent, her eyes widening, as Anne detailed what her godfather had said. “Contesting the claim would be a mess. I can’t believe he’s considering it. It’s not as if his nephew’s identity is in question. He is the child of the former earl.”
Anne nodded. “Exactly. I didn’t convince him not to do it, but I hope I said enough to give him pause. Perhaps Lorcan can help persuade him.”
“Lorcan might support him,” Jane said. “He stands to lose the title too.”
Anne waved her hand. “He doesn’t care so long as he has Kilmaar.” It occurred to Anne that if Rafe didn’t marry and have children, which it seemed he didn’t want to, Lorcan would still inherit.
Jane hesitated before asking, “Will you tell Rafe?”
That question weighed heavily on Anne’s mind. “My godfather said he would inform me if he plans to contest Rafe’s claim. I’ll alert him then. I don’t want to poison any chance for a relationship between them.”
Jane made a noise in her throat. “Isn’t the earl already doing that?”
Anne nodded. “I thought the same thing. But I see the predicament—and pain—they’re both in. They have been or will be harmed. In correcting the wrong done to Rafe, my godfather will suffer.”
“You are kind to think of them both. I’m not sure I could do the same if it were Anthony.”
In truth, Anne held more sympathy for Rafe, and she would be outraged if her godfather went forward with contesting Rafe’s claim. At the same time, she heard Rafe telling her he didn’t deserve her, that he wasn’t the man she thought he was. What was he hiding? And was there some way it would prevent him from living up to his duties as an earl?
She wanted answers. And she didn’t want to discuss her trepidation with Jane. Nor did she want to admit that her godfather’s concerns were perhaps valid and definitely unsettling.
Because she thought she knew Rafe. She liked him. She enjoyed his company.
She loved him.
But could she really if a huge part of his life was unknown to her? Was she a fool?
