“The picnic continued, even though my godfather wanted to call it off. Deborah convinced him to allow the event to proceed. They didn’t inform Lorcan of what happened until after everyone had left. Did you meet Lorcan?” she asked.
Rafe shook his head. “How did he react?”
“He was surprisingly calm. His initial concern was that he would no longer have access to the estate in Ireland. He really loves it there.”
“I own an estate in Ireland?” Rafe shook his head. Harry was still working on accumulating a full accounting of the assets that should rightfully belong to Rafe. Perhaps the Irish property belonged to his uncle. Except if his cousin was now worried he wouldn’t have access, that seemed unlikely.
“You own many things,” Anne said.
“Your godfather was very upset.”
She blinked. “Of course. Wouldn’t you be?”
“I am upset to learn I was stolen from my home and denied my birthright.” His voice had risen. When he thought of the hardship he and Selina had faced and survived, he wanted to rage.
Anne sucked in a breath. She scooted forward on the cushion, her eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
Rafe stood and took his empty glass to the sideboard. He set it down and looked at the painting in front of him. It was of some nameless subject. He realized he likely now owned countless portraits of his family members. Was there one of his parents, or had it burned in the fire? He was desperate to find one.
He turned to face Anne. “What did Lady Burnhope say?” Rafe was particularly interested in what his cousin would do. She despised Selina and would most certainly be displeased that her foe from school was now her cousin. Selina was utterly disgusted.
“She ranted about the unfairness of it, which wasn’t helpful.” Anne made a face. “Deborah can be difficult to like.”
According to Selina, she was completely unlikeable. “You know her well?”
“Very. She was my chaperone when we were meeting at Hatchard’s.”
Rafe let out a sharp laugh. “She was terrible.”
Anne grinned. “Thankfully. Else, we would not have met.”
Rafe supposed he should be grateful, then, for meeting Anne and sharing those afternoons was the most wonderful thing in his recent memory.
“Still, she can be horrendous. She thought you should let her father keep the title.” Anne rolled her eyes.
“Does she have any redeeming qualities?”
“She can be helpful. She’s gone to great lengths to be supportive after my wedding that didn’t happen.”
“As she should,” Rafe muttered. The thought of Anne marrying that scoundrel still ate at him. Or maybe it was the idea that he’d almost lost her. For a woman he was trying not to be friends with, she’d come to mean a great deal to him. “I doubt she will be so supportive of me, however.”
“Probably not.” Anne clasped her hands in her lap, and Rafe could suddenly feel them on him—as she stroked his jaw or rested her palm against his chest. “But there will be plenty who will, including me and Jane and Anthony. I will be at the dinner on Monday at your sister’s house.”
He blinked in surprise. “You will?”
“My godfather asked me to come. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” In fact, he was glad to have someone else present who supported him.
Did she, though? The man who was about to lose everything—or nearly everything—was her godfather. How close was their relationship? “Do you think he should keep the title?” he asked. She’d rolled her eyes, but what did that mean?
“I don’t think it’s that simple. You are the rightful earl. It’s a terrible situation for everyone.” She smiled sadly. “You’ve been denied your very identity for nearly thirty years, and my godfather has spent that same amount of time living a life that didn’t really belong to him.”
She didn’t not support him. But she clearly sympathized with her godfather too.
He would do well to remember that. “We’ve changed the location of the dinner. I’ll be hosting it here.” Selina hadn’t wanted Deborah in her house, and Rafe didn’t blame her. “Harry is sending word to your godfather this afternoon.”
“Mr. Sheffield is a good friend to you. I’m glad.”
Yes, he was, and Rafe was still struggling to accept that. “Apparently, his father was a friend of my father’s.” He abruptly clenched his teeth together and pushed away the emotion that always seemed to be thundering just beneath the surface.
Anne rose and came to him, her brow creased. “I’m so sorry, Rafe,” she whispered. “This has to be so difficult. But isn’t there joy too? In knowing who you are?”
She was so close. He could wrap his arms around her and pull her against him, bury himself in her scent and softness, comfort himself in her care and tenderness. It was almost painful not to.
Oh, she was much more than a friend. That was absolutely terrifying.
“Joy? I don’t know.” That wasn’t an emotion he often felt. The happiest he’d been in the past four years was when he’d reunited with Selina. But even that had been eclipsed by the fact that he’d kept her away from him for far too long. “Perhaps I’m afraid of that,” he said quietly, his voice rasping.
He was also afraid of being the center of attention, of disappointing his parents, of not being the man he should be. How could he be, given how he was raised? How he’d spent almost the entirety of his life? As a criminal and a fraud. Yes, he could play the role of earl—he was so good at pretending. But this wasn’t a sham. This was real. This was who he was supposed to be.
What if he failed?
“Oh, Rafe.” She moved closer and put her palms against his cheeks. Her brow puckered, and she quickly stripped her gloves away, heedlessly