Christ, she did see him. “Yes.”
Her gaze turned fierce, and she took his hand between both of hers in her lap. “I am your friend, and perhaps I’ll be more. Perhaps not. I have no illusions—not after Gilbert Chamberlain. If I learned anything from that experience, it’s that I deserve happiness and I won’t settle for anything less than what I want.”
Utterly fearless. He shouldn’t take her to Magazine Day, but nothing could stop him. Not even the stark reality that he didn’t deserve to breathe the same air she did. If she knew how he was connected to Chamberlain, she’d realize just how awful he was.
He put his other hand over hers and leaned toward her. “Understand me, Anne—there is more than a darkness. I am not the man you think I am, nor the man you want me to be. I am not a knight or a hero who will make you happy forever. If you can accept that, we will go to Magazine Day to make up our lost afternoon. And then we will part as friends. Do you agree?” He held her gaze and stroked his thumb along her wrist.
She nodded. Then he did the unthinkable. He brought his hands up to her face and held her while he put his mouth on hers. She clasped the lapels of his coat, pulling the garment as her lips met his.
The kiss was fast but deep. It wasn’t a promise but a regret. A desperate yearning that would never be fulfilled.
Rafe groaned low in his throat and released her. “Go.”
She set her hat atop her head and coughed. “My gloves.”
He stood and retrieved them from the floor. Handing them to her, he was careful to barely touch her hand. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
She nodded, then left.
One stolen afternoon. Before his life irrevocably changed.
Ludlow Mallory’s coach stopped in front of Rafe’s magnificent house on Upper Brook Street. The groom opened the door and helped Deborah alight, then Anne. Her godfather and his son, Lorcan, followed. The four of them stood on the pavement and looked at the grandest façade on the street.
“This is his house?” Anne’s godfather asked incredulously. “How wealthy is he?”
“I would say quite,” Deborah said with a slight frown.
“He doesn’t need to be an earl,” Anne’s godfather continued. “Nor does he need all my property and assets.”
“Nevertheless, he’s entitled to them,” Lorcan said with resignation. “Including my beloved Kilmaar.”
Anne gave him a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps he’ll allow you to keep something. You certainly aren’t going to be destitute.” At least she hoped not. She had no idea how their finances would be once they lost the properties and whatever assets rightfully belonged to Rafe. “I can’t see how your cousin would let that happen.”
“Do you know him?” her godfather asked sharply. Anne swallowed.
Deborah exhaled. “She’s just being optimistic. Which is admirable.” She gave Anne a warm smile. “Of course, my life will not be changed.”
The former earl gave his daughter a sour look. “Precisely. Optimism is easy for you. And Anne.”
“You mean selfishness,” Lorcan said, darting a disappointed glance at his sister before apologizing to Anne. “I didn’t mean you. Your optimism is appreciated.”
Anne hated how defeated Lorcan and his father sounded. She could understand how they must feel. This was such a shock.
Taking a breath and summoning the optimism they seemed to need, she squared her shoulders. “Let’s not stand here and gawk.” She started up the steps to the door, which opened as she reached the top.
The butler, Glover if she recalled from her visit the other day, admitted them with a nod. After they were all in the entry hall, a footman took Anne’s and Deborah’s shawls, and a second footman took over the butler’s position at the door.
“This way, if you please.” Glover led them to the right into an elegant room decorated in reds and golds. There were a few chairs and a settee, but it appeared to be an anteroom. The occupants, which included Rafe, his sisters, and their husbands all stood.
Sisters.
It occurred to Anne that her godfather didn’t have two nieces. At least not that he was aware of. Was Beatrix a…by-blow? Why hadn’t she thought to ask Rafe about this the other day?
Anne gave her a warm smile, which Beatrix returned. Then her gaze shifted toward Deborah and went instantly cold.
“Good evening,” Rafe said. “Thank you for coming tonight and for being flexible with changing the location. It seemed I should host.”
“Your house is most impressive,” Deborah said. “Is that why you wanted to host? So we could see it?”
“No, that’s not why,” Selina said icily. “I didn’t want to have you in my house.”
Deborah’s nose twitched, and she flashed a small, malicious smile. “We’re just going to be openly hostile?”
Selina shrugged. “Beatrix and I discussed it, and it seemed the most acceptable course. For us, anyway.” She exchanged a mildly amused look with Beatrix, and Anne couldn’t help but admire their solidarity and sisterhood. She and Jane would do the same in the face of a common enemy.
“Well, if that’s the case, then allow me to ask why Beatrix is even here.” Deborah glowered at them.
“She’s Lady Rockbourne,” Beatrix’s husband corrected in a clipped tone.
“Of course, I’d forgotten given the hastiness of your marriage.” Deborah clucked her tongue as she regarded Beatrix. “Why are you here? You aren’t actually their sister. I suppose you could be my uncle’s by-blow, but your father is purportedly a duke.”
“Indeed he is,” Beatrix said smoothly. She didn’t seem the slightest bit agitated by Deborah’s needling. Needling? No, her behavior was far worse than that. Anne wasn’t sure she would be able to keep from berating her for this.
Beatrix waved her hand. “It hardly signifies. I am quite happy with how things have happened, and I can’t say I care if anyone knows I’m a duke’s bastard.” She turned to her husband, who was gazing at her adoringly.
