by Darcy Burke
People standing off the path covertly watched them as they walked by. Some of them whispered. “Everyone is staring,” Anne murmured.
“I expected that.”
“And they don’t even know we’re betrothed—that would have been enough. Does it bother you?”
“Not particularly.” He could ignore it. As a lieutenant to Samuel Partridge in London’s East End, Rafe had been a sort of neighborhood royalty. People had watched him as he walked past or treated him with deference. Women tried to catch his eye, and men worked to earn his respect and favor.
“Good afternoon!” Lady Satterfield greeted them from next to the path. “Miss Pemberton, how lovely to see you out.”
“Allow me to introduce Mr. Mallory,” Anne said. “Rafe, this is Lady Satterfield. She is a member of the Spitfire Society.”
Rafe bowed his head. Selina had mentioned the countess, indicating she was a kind and generous person. She was also very well respected in Society, and her stepson was the much-revered Duke of Kendal. Rafe wondered if he was also on the Committee for Privileges. From what he understood, the duke was a powerful figure in the Lords.
The countess, who was perhaps in her late fifties, smiled warmly at him. “You’re soon to be declared the Earl of Stone, I hear. I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance. I knew your parents. They were absolutely wonderful people.”
She stood with two other women, who stared at him with excited interest. Lady Satterfield introduced them as Lady Exeby and Mrs. Childers.
Rafe ignored them in favor of hearing more about his parents. “I’m always pleased to meet someone who knew them. I barely remember them.”
Lady Satterfield’s eyes creased with sympathy. “I’ve met your sister on several occasions. Your mother would be so proud of her commitment to charitable works.”
“Which sister is that?” Mrs. Childers asked.
“Lady Selina Sheffield,” Lady Satterfield replied.
“Lady Rockbourne isn’t really his sister,” Lady Exeby muttered while trying to smile.
“Yes, Rafe is shortly to become the Earl of Stone, and I will be his countess,” Anne said with more volume than was necessary. Enough volume that people nearby turned their heads.
Rafe stared at her, his heart pounding. Now their betrothal was public. She couldn’t withdraw without causing a scandal. A sense of relief flashed through him along with a jolt of self-derision. She no longer had the choice she deserved when she learned the truth about him. And damn him, it seemed he’d unconsciously wanted that. He was a selfish, coldhearted blackguard, and he was afraid of losing her.
Lady Satterfield’s eyes lit with joy. “You’re betrothed?”
Anne gave his arm another squeeze. “Yes.”
“How wonderful. I’m so happy for you both.”
Lady Exeby and Mrs. Childers’ eyes rounded briefly. “Such happy news,” one of them said. Rafe couldn’t remember who was whom.
“A shame you didn’t give anyone else a chance on the Marriage Mart,” the other added with a laugh.
“I didn’t need to. Miss Pemberton is everything I could want in a countess. If you’ll excuse us, we will continue on.” He inclined his head before escorting Anne away, his pulse uneven.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I blurted that out after Lady Exeby mentioned Beatrix. And I told my godfather earlier.”
Rafe tensed more than he already was, his neck and shoulder blades tightening. “What did he say?”
“He wasn’t pleased, but he was more fixated on your claim. He was on his way to Westminster.”
“To do what?” Rafe wondered if his uncle was urging members of the committee to reject his claim.
“He didn’t say specifically.”
Rafe noted she kept her gaze trained forward, and her body had stiffened as they discussed her godfather. Had something happened? “You don’t have to keep anything from me,” he said softly. “I imagine my uncle is angry and perhaps even wishes I had never been found.”
She turned her head swiftly, her gaze hot. “Don’t say that! Yes, he is upset, but he’s trying to accept this shocking change to his life. Just as you are doing.”
Her defense of him rankled, but what did Rafe expect? The man was a part of her life, as close as family.
They walked in silence for a moment before Anne asked, “Where will we go after the wedding? Or do you prefer to stay in London?”
He wanted to ask why she’d changed the subject but decided the park was not the place to have a conversation about his murdering uncle. “I honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
The staring seemed to grow worse as they reached the intersection with another path. The Ripleys and Coltons turned to the left, but Rafe was sorely tempted to continue to the Cumberland Gate and leave the park entirely.
“You slowed down,” Anne observed. “Shall we stop?”
“Don’t we need to keep up with your chaperones?”
“Probably, but the park is very crowded. It’s not as if you can compromise me here.” She lowered her voice. “As if you hadn’t already.”
Her sensual tone drove a stake of longing straight through him. He struggled to focus on anything other than taking her in his arms. “I think I’d like to visit Stonehaven after we are wed.”
Her face softened. “Yes, of course. I imagine you’d want to see your family’s ancestral home.”
He suddenly realized his parents were buried there—Harry’s clerk had made the discovery. While he wanted to see their graves, he was anxious. Would it be too painful to see the house? Could he ever spend time there? “I want Selina to come too,” he murmured, his mind caught in the past. He wasn’t sure what was more troubling to him at the moment—the pain of that loss or the pain of potentially losing Anne.
“Certainly. Let’s catch up to Jane and the others and tell them we want to return home.”
He blinked away the fog in his brain. “We don’t have to.”
She gave him an encouraging smile and quickened her pace toward her sister, pulling him along. They were speaking with another couple to the side of the path.
“Here they are,” Jane said with a smile. “Arabella, you know my sister Anne. This is her betrothed, Mr. Raphael Mallory, soon to be the Earl of Stone. May I present the Duke and Duchess of Halstead?”
Anne glanced up at him. “Arabella was a founding member of the Spitfire Society and is a dear friend of Jane and Phoebe’s. She and her husband have been in the country the past several weeks—the duke unexpectedly inherited his title. Perhaps he has advice for you on suddenly becoming a peer.”
Halstead, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with an easy smile, inclined his head toward Rafe. “I’d be happy to share a brandy—or ten—and tell you all about it. I understand you’re about to become an earl.” His gaze turned sympathetic. “The situation is entirely different, however,” he added softly. “My condolences.”
He’d apparently heard the entire story. Rafe appreciated the man’s sentiment. “Thank you.”
Jane sidled closer to Anne and Rafe as Anthony began speaking with the others. “It seems the entire park is talking about Rafe’s claim. Do you want to continue, or would you rather return home?”
“Home,” Anne answered quickly.
Nodding, Jane suggested they could all return to Grosvenor Street for refreshment if they were so inclined.
As they left the park through the closest gate, Rafe felt a surge of relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to face the gossip. He didn’t particularly care. But he was bound to meet more people who’d known his parents, and after thinking of their graves, he wasn’t ready for that. Not today. Not on top of grappling with what he was going to say to Anne. And when.
“Will you mind if I don’t stay?” he asked Anne.
“Of course not. I mean, I’ll miss you, but I understand. Truly.” She stroked his forearm with her free hand. “That just gives me more time to look forward to tomorrow. And all the days after that.”
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He longed to kiss her, to thank her for her unwavering support and love. Things he didn’t deserve.
Chapter 14
Jane was already in the drawing room when Anne walked in on Thursday evening. Anthony hadn’t yet returned from Westminster. Rafe, as well as her godfather and Lorcan, would arrive shortly. She was nervous about having them all together, but hopefully Lorcan’s presence would ensure his father and Rafe got along. She’d tried to speak with Lorcan about whether his father meant to contest Rafe’s claim, but hadn’t been able to.
“Your ring is so beautiful,” Jane said, taking Anne’s left hand and holding it up so the diamond and emeralds sparkled in the light of the chandelier.
Rafe had given her the betrothal ring the night before at his sister’s house. It had been a wonderful evening of warmth and laughter. Of family. Despite that, there’d been something off about Rafe, as if the darkness she sometimes sensed inside him had been more present. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had an opportunity to speak with him about it. They’d only been alone a scant few minutes at the start of the evening when he’d given her the ring before his sisters had excitedly burst in to congratulate them.
Anthony strode into the room, making his way directly to Jane and placing a kiss on her cheek. He looked a bit harried. “My apologies for nearly being late.”
Jane took his head. “Is everything all right?”
“Depends on what that means, I suppose. It’s all right for me. And for you, probably. For Anne’s betrothed?” He sent a sympathetic glance toward Anne.
Anxiety pushed at Anne’s chest. “What happened?”
“It’s expected that the attorney general will refer Mallory’s claim to the Committee for Privileges tomorrow.”
“That’s what’s supposed to happen,” Anne said, wondering why Anthony thought this was bad for Rafe.
Unfortunately, Purcell entered at that moment and announced the arrival of Anne’s godfather and cousin.
“Good evening, my dear,” her godfather said with a smile as he came toward her. Taking her hand, he settled his gaze on her ring. “My but that is…large.”
“It’s spectacular,” Lorcan said with a grin. “Congratulations, Anne.”
“Thank you.”
Before Anne could assess her godfather’s mood, Purcell announced Rafe’s arrival.
Her gaze went to Rafe, and she instantly felt calmer. His features were so familiar to her now. So beloved.
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked at her, but he didn’t quite smile. After greeting Anthony, he moved to Anne’s side.
“Good evening, Uncle,” he said evenly before looking to Lorcan. “Sandon.”
“That won’t be my name much longer. Address me as Lorcan, if you please.”
“And you must call me Rafe, regardless of my title. We are cousins, after all.” Rafe extended his hand.
Lorcan shook his hand. “Yes, we are.”
Anne watched her godfather’s expression tighten and hoped it wasn’t a harbinger for another aborted dinner like the last one. She gave him a bright smile and then put her arm through Rafe’s. “I’m so pleased to have you all here for a family dinner, for that’s what this is. Whatever happens, I hope this is the first of many times we share together.”
She felt Rafe stiffen when she’d said, “whatever happens.” Perhaps she should have worded that differently. Of course he would be the earl. She realized she was trying to lessen her godfather’s pain, and that wasn’t really her place. He was a grown man, and he simply had to accept that his nephew was alive and well and rightfully the Earl of Stone.
Purcell informed them that dinner was ready. They made their way downstairs to the dining room behind Anthony and Jane.
Anne clutched Rafe’s arm tightly. “All right?” she murmured.
“So far,” he answered quietly.
“It will be fine. Good, even. You’ll see.” She really hoped it would be.
They took their places at the table in the breakfast room since they were a smaller gathering, with Anthony and Jane at either end, Anne and Rafe on one side, and her godfather and Lorcan on the other.
Anne exchanged a look of hopeful determination with Lorcan, who was directly across from her. While she hadn’t been able to speak with him in person, she’d sent him a note asking for his help to facilitate the nascent relationship between Rafe and Lorcan’s father.
As the first course was served, Anne sent up another silent prayer that this dinner would go better than the last.
Anne’s godfather took a drink of wine and set his glass back down before addressing the table. His gaze settled on Rafe, who sat across from him. “There’s no point avoiding the issue that is likely occupying everyone’s thoughts. It sounds as though the attorney general will refer your claim to the Committee for Privileges tomorrow. The entire matter could very well be decided by early next week.”
“That is my understanding, yes,” Rafe said, his tone as measured as it had been in the drawing room. Something, however, simmered beneath his calm surface. Anne felt it more here than she had upstairs. Her hope for a pleasant evening began to dim.
Anne looked between the two men and noted the frigidity in each of their gazes. Something wasn’t right. Why would Rafe ask to get to know his uncle better, to forge a relationship, and then look at him like this?
And her godfather… Had he decided to contest Rafe’s claim? Anne’s stomach twisted into a knot. She should have told Rafe and now regretted not doing so. Placing her spoon on the table as her desire to eat fled, she clasped her hands in her lap.
The current earl—Ludlow—stared at Rafe with a palpable arrogance. “I expect you think this matter will be settled quickly and in your favor. I wouldn’t be so certain if I were you. My contest to your claim is even now being delivered to the Prince Regent and the attorney general.”
Rafe set his spoon down and barely rested his palms, flat, on the table on the outside of his place setting. Anne could see the tension in his fingers and the tendons of his wrists.
“Why are you contesting my claim? You don’t argue that I’m not, in fact, your nephew, and as such, the rightful heir.”
“That is true, but in this instance, one must determine who is best to hold the title. I do argue that is not you.” He picked up his wine, and the air in the room was as thick as cold butter. “You seem surprised, which in turn surprises me. I would have thought my goddaughter would have told you I was considering this action.”
Rafe’s head turned toward her slowly. His features were impassive, but in his eyes, there was the barest flash of hurt.
Anne reached for him, her fingers lightly grazing his thigh beneath the table. His leg twitched, and she snatched her hand away. He was angry with her. Disappointed.
As he should be.
She’d hoped, foolishly, that her godfather would come to accept Rafe and the fact that he would be the earl. It seemed her godfather was not the man she thought.
Lorcan’s brow creased as he looked at his father. “Why would you contest Rafe’s claim? You’ve no idea what sort of earl he will be. Furthermore, it doesn’t matter what you think, because the title is his.”
“As I’ve said to many people, including you and Anne, on many occasions, it is up to me to see to the welfare of all the people at my estates. They depend upon the earl—me—to provide them with their livelihood. I also have responsibilities to our government, to the people of our kingdom. Knowing what I have learned about my nephew has led me to believe he cannot carry out these duties. Nor should he.”
What was he talking about? What had he learned? “I told you what a good man he is,” Anne blurted, glaring at her godfather. “How he helps people.”
Ludlow looked at her with a mix of condescension and sympathy. “That is what you said, yes. However, that is not who he really is. Did you know your betrothed has gone by many names?”
She knew he’d been Blackwell and then Bowles. Lifting her chin, she gave her g
odfather a cold stare. “Yes.”
“Did you know he was a man called the Vicar?”
Anthony abruptly stood. “Enough. Stone, I think you should go.”
Jane also rose, her eyes round. “He’s the Vicar?” She looked toward Rafe in disbelief, then frowned at her husband.
Anne looked around the table in confusion before fixing on Rafe beside her. “Who is the Vicar?”
“I am,” Rafe said softly, his gaze trained across the table on his uncle. “You’ve done some investigating, I see.”
“Yes, and my response to your claim details all of it: that you are a criminal moneylender known as the Vicar, that you led gangs of thieves and owned many receiver shops with which to fence the items the children who worked for you stole—”
“Stop.” Rafe cut him off, his voice icy and sharp.
Anne tried to process what her godfather had said. Rafe was a criminal?
Jane stepped out from her chair, staring at her husband. “I can’t believe you let my sister become betrothed to him!”
“He said he’d tell her everything, and I was stupid enough to believe him.” Anthony glared at Rafe.
Rafe turned in his chair toward Anne, his face still devoid of almost all emotion except a simmering rage. “I should have told you all this, and I’d planned to. I just…” He glowered toward his uncle, his lip curling and his hands clenching into fists. In that moment, he appeared a criminal, like a man who could hurt someone without much effort or concern.
Ludlow’s eyes glittered across the table. “Don’t forget to tell her how you worked closely with her former betrothed, how Chamberlain delivered gentlemen in need of loans to the Vicar’s doorstep and how you took advantage of their desperation.”
Now Anne stood, unable to remain still another moment. But her legs shook, and she had to clasp the back of the chair for support. “You knew Gilbert?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know I was marrying him?” She put her hand over her mouth as bile rose in her throat. “Would you have let me?”
Rafe bolted out of his chair and took a step toward her. “Never. I’ve thought of killing him for bringing you shame.” His jaw clenched.
