Beatrix, whom Selina had met at boarding school after Rafe had sent her there at the age of eleven to protect her from the ever-increasing dangers of their life in East London, had given Selina the necklace. As the bastard daughter of a duke, Beatrix had enjoyed a luxurious childhood until her mother, the duke’s mistress, had died. As a child, she’d visited an estate with a folly and so had been able to describe it—a fake temple or other sort of building situated on an estate as a decoration or entertainment. Apparently, some folly owners actually paid hermits to live in them. Rafe would never understand the bloody rich.
“Sir?” Rafe’s butler, a smooth, silver-haired man of around fifty with a wealth of experience and outstanding references, stood just inside the library.
“Yes?”
“Lady Rockbourne and Mrs. Sheffield are here to see you. They are in the blue room.”
Beatrix and Selina.
“Thank you, Glover.” Rafe had arranged for guests to always meet him in the large sitting room that looked out to the garden. It was an elegantly decorated space with just the right amount of intimidating opulence and welcoming warmth. Or so he hoped.
Rafe moved past the butler and made his way to the blue room. Beatrix perched on a settee in the center seating area while Selina paced near the massive fireplace edged in gilt and surmounted by a wide mirror in a Baroque style.
That his sister was wearing a path over his new Aubusson carpet gave him a moment’s concern—not for the carpet, but for whatever was driving her nervous movements. “Good afternoon,” he said. “I’m surprised to see you both—newlyweds that you are.” Selina had married the Honorable Harry Sheffield, a Bow Street constable and second son of an earl, a week earlier, and Beatrix had wed the Viscount Rockbourne just three days ago.
Selina stopped pacing and faced him, her hands clasped in front of her. “We have news. Rather, Beatrix has news.”
Beatrix blinked, her pale lashes sweeping over her hazel eyes. “Yesterday I went to Tom’s cousin’s for a visit. We picked up a pair of kittens for Regan.” Tom was her new husband and Regan was her four-year-old stepdaughter. “While we were at Sutton Park, we had a picnic near a lake.”
The air in Rafe’s lungs escaped in a rush. He said nothing but went to stand near a high-backed chair. Resting his hand on the top, he dug his fingertips into the velvet back.
“I spied a folly across the lake,” Beatrix said, and Rafe knew what she was going to say next.
He said it for her. “It was the folly.”
Beatrix nodded. “Complete with the dolphin and Aphrodite in the center.” Just as Rafe had remembered. He’d drawn what he recalled and shown the rendering to both of them.
Rafe squeeze the chair. He couldn’t believe she’d found it. “You’re certain?”
“Quite. Especially given the proximity to the lake.”
“It’s at Sutton Park?” Rafe had no idea where that was.
“No, the neighboring estate, Ivy Grove. It’s owned by the Earl of Stone.”
The Earl of Stone. Who the hell was that? Rafe hadn’t yet made the connections he wanted to amongst the highest members of Society. He was well on his way, however, since his sister was now married to the son of the Earl of Aylesbury and his pretend sister was now a viscountess.
The two of them also belonged to a women’s philanthropic organization called the Spitfire Society, whose membership boasted duchesses, marchionesses, countesses, and more. Women of influence and prestige.
How in the bloody hell had they found their way here?
Through hard work and persistence. Since meeting at the boarding school more than fifteen years ago, Selina and Beatrix had formed a bond as close as sisters. In fact, they told everyone they were sisters, and as a result, Rafe, who had been introduced as Selina’s brother, now had a fake half sister. He had no quarrel with the lie, particularly since Beatrix had been family to Selina when she’d needed it most. When Rafe had sent her to the school and abandoned her. He hadn’t meant to not see her for nearly two decades, but when he thought of her returning to the life he’d saved her from, he’d stopped writing while continuing to pay for her education. He hadn’t seen her again until a few weeks ago.
While he knew it had been the right thing to do, he suffered a deep, piercing anguish that would haunt him the rest of his life. Because while he’d protected Selina from the dangers of East London, she’d had to forge a path for herself and for Beatrix. As two women alone in the world, they’d done whatever they must in order to survive, including swindling and theft. He felt guilty about that too—if Selina’s background hadn’t been that of a thief and a swindler, perhaps she would have found another way.
He supposed she had, finally. Through love. She and Sheffield were quite thoroughly and wonderfully in love, and Rafe couldn’t have been more grateful. The same was true of Beatrix and Rockbourne.
Hopefully, for them it would last.
“Do you know Stone?” Selina asked. “You’re clearly lost in thought.”
Indeed he was. “No. I’m trying to think if I know of anyone who knows him.” In his most recent life, Rafe had been a moneylender called the Vicar. In that role, he’d met some men who moved in Society, most notably the Viscount Colton.
Rafe hadn’t ever encountered Stone or heard his name, but perhaps Colton could help him. As it happened, the man owed him a favor that Rafe had yet to claim.
“Tom’s cousin, the Countess of Sutton, does,” Beatrix said. “Because they’re neighbors. I’m certain we could all go to Sutton Park.”
He appreciated that, but it wasn’t enough. “I want to
