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?
She hoped not.
Chapter 11
Taking Anne back to Paternoster Row today was a very bad idea.
Rafe knew it the moment he saw her standing in the Grosvenor Mews, her face cloaked with a veil and her body draped in a stunning walking costume trimmed with gold buttons and piping, with a long, dark blue spencer that mostly covered the ivory skirt beneath. After pulling the cabriolet to a stop and helping her inside, he climbed in beside her and caught her vibrant floral and spice scent.
A very bad idea.
Nevertheless, he drove through the mews and went east. All the while, he worked hard not to think of her proximity or what had happened the last time they’d made this trip together.
“What is in the package?” he asked, nodding toward the item she carried.
“It’s a pillow for Annie’s room. I did promise her something. I embroidered some books along the edges.”
Rafe was extremely touched by her thoughtfulness. “You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” In fact, he’d met only one other woman who came close, his sister notwithstanding.
“Thank you.” Their gazes caught and held, and it seemed the electricity he felt also swirled between them, indicating she felt it too. At length she said, “I wondered if you might tell me how you came to inherit the bookshop.”
He knew the more time he spent with her, the more she would want to know about him. He felt the same way about her, except she was rather open about herself, her past, her feelings. Whereas he was purposefully mysterious. For her protection.
Or for yours?
Rafe shrugged the thought away. “When I was young, I liked to spend time there. Mr. Fletcher was the owner, and he allowed me to read as if he operated a library.” A smile crept over his mouth unbidden. “He was a good man.”
“Where did you live?”
“In Cheapside.” He shifted uncomfortably because that wasn’t true. At least not back then. “Perhaps I’ll show you where later, if we have time.”
She turned toward him, and though he couldn’t see her face clearly through the veil, he could sense her enthusiasm. “Really? That would be wonderful. I’d love to see it.”
He returned to what she’d asked originally. “Mr. Fletcher left me his shop when he died, as well as a fund.”
“And that’s how you started to accumulate your wealth?” She briefly touched his thigh. “I apologize for my curiosity. Knowing you had nothing and elevated yourself to where you are today is astonishing.”
He heard the pride in her voice and couldn’t help but feel a bit of the emotion himself. But the sensation quickly evaporated because the truth was far more sinister than she thought. He’d already accumulated some of his wealth—the start of it, anyway—before Fletcher died. In fact, Fletcher had left him the shop and a modest sum of money in the hope that Rafe would turn his back on his criminal enterprises entirely.
Rafe had wanted to. But wanting something and having the means, both externally and internally to do it, were completely different things. It wasn’t until he’d met Eliza that he’d finally wanted to leave his criminal life behind.
“Your curiosity is understandable,” he said evenly. “Mr. Fletcher’s generosity was paramount to my success. I was fortunate.”
“You deserved that, at least.” Her voice was soft but carried a hint of steel. “I spoke to Anthony and to my godfather. When would you like to have the dinner?”
“Soon, I should think.”
“Thursday?” she asked.
“That would be fine, thank you. I appreciate your help.” Rafe had his own curiosity about how her meeting with his uncle had gone. Had he betrayed anything about what he’d done nearly thirty years ago?
Rafe had gone over and over the conversations they’d had, trying to pick out anything his uncle had said that could incriminate him. There was nothing, of course. Except his anger and disappointment—that had been clear. But that reaction proved nothing. It made sense that a man who’d been an earl for twenty-seven years and would now lose the title and everything that went with it would be upset.
Anne settled back against the seat and in so doing brought herself more closely against him. Her heat pressed into his thigh and his arm. He should move away, but he did not.
“Are you trying to make yourself irresistible?” He immediately cursed himself for flirting with her. “Never mind. Whether that is your objective or not, it’s beyond your control.” At least where he was concerned. He hadn’t wanted a woman the way he wanted her since Eliza. And if that didn’t frighten him, nothing could.
“Are you saying I don’t even have to try?” she asked coyly.
He couldn’t help but laugh. Then he steered the conversation to their upcoming visit with Annie and whether Anne had already finished the book about Greek mythology.
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to disappoint Annie.”
He couldn’t imagine she would ever disappoint anyone.
When they arrived at the bookshop, Rafe gave the cabriolet over to the tiger, who went to park in Warwick Lane. Rafe guided Anne into the shop where she pulled the veil from her face, flipping it up over her bonnet.
“Oh, I’m taking this thing off,” she muttered, removing the hat.
John greeted them warmly.
Anne looked about. “Where is Annie?”
“She’ll be here presently,” John said.
Annie dashed from the back of the shop,
