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 dangle 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,
