Yet here he was, waiting for a slip of a woman who made his heart race in a way he’d never expected. Not after what he’d endured—what he’d found and lost.
After another quarter hour, he accepted that she wasn’t coming. Muttering a curse, he walked into the arcade. London’s elite mingled amongst the expensive shops. He wandered into a jeweler and browsed the display cases, stopping when his gaze fell on a cameo carved from oyster shell. He instantly thought of Mrs. Dazzling, because the woman’s curls rioted about her shoulders. Mrs. Dazzling’s hair didn’t quite do that, but one or more of her blonde locks often went astray, despite her best attempts to keep them tamed beneath her hat.
And of course the oyster shell reminded him of her. Would he ever eat another oyster without thinking of their time together?
Without indulging much thought, he sought the attention of an employee. “I’d like to purchase that brooch.”
“Aphrodite?” the middle-aged man asked.
Rafe nearly smiled. Of course it was Aphrodite. He’d always been drawn to depictions of the goddess, though he couldn’t exactly say why. “Yes.”
The man withdrew it from the case with a smile. “What a lovely gift. I’ll wrap it up for you.”
Rafe asked the price and paid the man. It wasn’t a gift. In fact, he didn’t even know why he was buying it.
Because you can.
Perhaps that was it. He was a man of considerable means now. To be able to walk into this new arcade, built specifically for Society’s most prestigious, and not be regarded as an interloper was an achievement.
Nevertheless, he wasn’t satisfied. Perhaps he never would be.
The attendant returned with the brooch wrapped in a box. Rafe tucked it into his coat and left the shop.
Frustration and disappointment warred within him as he made his way back to Piccadilly. He couldn’t help but look toward Hatchard’s, as if he’d see her waiting for him outside. She wasn’t. The depth of his emotions was unsettling. He’d been amusing himself with her, or so he’d thought.
Hell, he’d let his guard down spectacularly. He almost never did that, with two distinct exceptions: his sister and Eliza. And both of them were gone from his life, proof positive that he should never let people close.
There were reasons he held himself apart. Self-protection. Unworthiness. Keeping others safe. He was a risk that shouldn’t be taken.
He was broken.
It was good she hadn’t come. Good for him, but even better for her.
That the discontent he typically carried was now magnified troubled him, but the sensation would fade. She’d been a welcome distraction, and now it was time to let her go. It should be simple. He’d become a master of letting things—people—go. A sharp, quick press on his chest told him otherwise.
Perhaps she’d been more than a distraction.
Chapter 1
June 1819
Mayfair
The library was nearly complete.
Rafe Blackwell, or Raphael Bowles as he was now known, surveyed the massive room, which was the second largest in his grand new house on Upper Brook Street. Only the ballroom was bigger. He could probably fit the single-room flat he’d lived in with his sister and their “uncle” when they’d been children in East London into the ballroom at least eight times over.
Two footmen carried in boxes of books and set them on a long, rectangular table, which was covered with a cloth to protect the surface. Such consideration was once odd to Rafe. Until four years ago, he’d never owned a table worth covering. Before that, he hadn’t owned all that many tables.
And he’d never owned this many books. He thanked the footmen, and they departed. Rafe went to one of the boxes and looked inside. So many books.
He immediately thought of Mrs. Dazzling—books always brought her to mind. Not just because he’d met her at Hatchard’s, but because the last time he’d seen her had been that day in Paternoster Row.
He’d considered finding her. It wouldn’t be difficult as she was out this Season.
He didn’t want to.
That wasn’t precisely true. It was best if he didn’t.
Besides, he expected she was married by now, or would be before the Season ended. She was far too intelligent, charming, and beautiful to last long on Society’s Marriage Mart. How he would have hated to participate in such a show.
He couldn’t help wondering if he might have. If his life had gone differently. His parents had died in a fire when he was five. He knew very little about them other than that they’d taught him to read, his father had given him a pony, and they’d loved him. The pony suggested some measure of wealth, but Rafe had never known the truth. Their nurse—his and his younger sister’s—had rescued them from the fire and delivered them to her brother, who’d taken them to London. When Rafe had asked “Uncle” Edgar where he was from, the man always shrugged and said it didn’t matter. What mattered was where he was going.
Always look forward.
Rafe had done just that, for it had been far preferable to living in the present, which had often been a horrible existence of hunger, shame, and desperation. Used by Edgar to steal and swindle, Rafe had grown up on the streets of East London, as far away from pony rides and loving parents as one could get.
But now that he’d arrived at his destination, the posh elegance and security of Mayfair, Rafe was consumed with looking back. Because nearly a week ago, he’d remembered something that could finally illuminate his origins. On the day his younger sister was married, she’d received a coral necklace as a gift. That necklace reminded them of one their mother had worn.
Seeing the necklace on Selina had loosened a memory stuck in the recesses of Rafe’s mind. He distinctly
