A Rogue to Ruin (The Untouchables: The Pretenders Book 3)

by Darcy Burke

  Tucking the last pin into her hair, she snagged his hand and held it up to her chest. She looked into his eyes. “Is there no part of you that you can share with me?”

  His nostrils flared. “I have shared all that I can.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you. I would take any part of you. I lo—”

  He pressed his hand against her mouth. “Don’t. Please.”

  There was a scent on his fingers. She nodded, and he removed his hand. “Is that how I…smell?”

  His eyes darkened, the orange spot smoldering. “I wanted to put my mouth on you and nearly lost that battle. If there was ever going to be a next time, that’s what I would do.” He leaned forward, whispering, “Then I would kiss you, and you would taste yourself.”

  Heat shot through her and settled in her sex, renewing her desire. “Well, that’s not fair to tease me like that.”

  “Christ, Anne.” He ran his hand through his hair and pivoted so that he was once again in profile. “How the hell am I supposed to keep myself from you when you are so damned tempting?”

  Joy bloomed in her chest. “I’d rather you didn’t.” She moved to stand in front of him. “There is no one else I want. I can be very patient. I tried to move on before, to do what I should instead of what I wanted. I’m not going to do that this time.”

  He touched her cheek, his lips lifting briefly in a sad smile. “You deserve far better than me. I have nothing to offer you—nothing you truly want. I am trying to be the gentleman you think I am.”

  “Then I’m right about that at least. Perhaps I’ll be right about more.” She winked at him and went to fetch her hat. “I suppose we should be getting back to Mayfair.” There was no point disguising the disappointment she felt.

  He stared at her before going to pick up his own hat. Setting it atop his crown, he shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Anything you like. Just name the day and the place, and I will be there. In the meantime, I’ll be waiting.”

  She left the room, knowing he followed her close behind, and hoped that wasn’t the last time they would be alone together. If it was, she at least had a memory that would make her smile.

  But that wasn’t enough. She was going to fight for him. Not because she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything, but because she believed he wanted her too.

  He just had to see it for himself.

  Chapter 9

  The following morning, Rafe climbed into his coach and headed to Cavendish Square to pick up his sister. They were traveling to Redhill, to the Golden Eagle, to visit the younger sister of their nurse, Pauline Blaylock.

  A nervous energy thrummed through him, but he wasn’t entirely certain it was due to hopefully finding their nurse. He couldn’t stop thinking of Anne and yesterday afternoon.

  Their trip back to Mayfair had been strained—at least for him. Part of it had been his unspent lust, but the rest of it, and perhaps the greater portion, was due to what she’d plainly told him.

  And what she’d tried to tell him, but he’d stopped her from saying. He couldn’t even allow himself to finish her sentence in his head. Eliza had loved him, and look where that had gotten her.

  Instead, he thought about Anne’s honesty, her unabashed desire, how she made no apologies for being precisely who she was and pursuing what she wanted. He’d been like that once. As a boy, he’d possessed enough ambition for every young thief he’d led. He believed that if he worked hard and sought higher and higher ranks and responsibility, he’d find power and respect.

  Years later, he’d found what really mattered and what he was trying so hard to avoid feeling again: love.

  In the end, his ambition and his pursuit of happiness had completely destroyed not just his love, but his life. He could never go back to the way he was before, hopeful and…vulnerable. Anne couldn’t possibly understand that. Nor would he ask her to.

  As he dropped her back at the Grosvenor Mews, she’d reminded him that she would be patient. She’d been earnest but gleeful, in possession of a boundless optimism he wasn’t sure he’d ever enjoyed. How could he, given the way he’d been raised?

  The coach stopped in front of Selina’s house, and the footman ran to the door to let her butler know they’d arrived. A few moments later, Selina walked toward the coach, and the footman held the door as Rafe offered his hand to help her up.

  “Thank you.” She took the forward-facing seat, which he’d left vacant for her. “I’m glad the weather will be dry today.”

  Redhill was a four-hour drive each way. The journey could have been made faster if they rode. But he did not and neither did Selina. She, however, was learning, under the tutelage of her husband. He, like Rafe, was the son of an earl, and, unlike Rafe, knew how to bloody well ride a horse.

  When Rafe let himself think about all the things he’d lost, specifically the things he’d missed doing with his father, he was nearly overcome with rage and sadness. This was yet another reason he would keep Anne at bay. No one deserved to be with a man as consumed by darkness as he was. And Anne had seen it, meaning it wasn’t just how he saw himself.

  “You seem pensive,” Selina said from beneath the elegant hat she wore.

  Rafe ignored her comment. “You look like such a lady. You also look happy.”

  “I am. You look pensive,” she repeated. “But it seems you aren’t going to discuss that with me.”

  No, he was not. “I suppose I’m just anxious about today. I hope Mrs. Gill is able to direct us to her sister.”

  “Have you thought about what you would say to her?” Selina asked softly, her lip curling. “Not just asking her what happened, but what her actions did to us, to our lives.”

  Rafe could hear her anger, could feel it in his chest. “Yes, but mostly I think of what I would say to Edgar. I’m fucking furious I won’t have that chance.”

  “All that time, he said they’d rescued us, that we should be grateful.” Selina’s jaw tightened as she looked out the window. “He used us.” She looked at him across the small space, her blue eyes clear, save a tiny glimmer of pain. “Do you think she knew what he meant to do?”

  “We’ll hopefully find out. Soon.”

  “I hope so. If this doesn’t lead us to her…” She exhaled and pressed a hand briefly to her cheek. “We’ll have to find a way to let it go. It’s not as if we can change the past. And now we have a future.” She shook her head. “I never imagined what I have found, and now to learn that you are an earl. Someday, I suppose it won’t seem like a dream.”

  “I keep waiting for that, so do let me know when it happens for you.”

  She laughed. “It’s very strange, isn’t it? Where we find ourselves.”

  “Certainly no stranger than where we’ve been.” He settled himself against the squab. “On that note, we have a long journey ahead of us. Amuse me with your exploits as Madame Sybila, the fortune-teller.” He arched a brow at her. “You chose a rather obvious name, did you not?” Sybila meant prophetess or seer.

  She shrugged, smiling. “It was also relatively close to Selina so that I might hear it and answer more quickly.” Taking a deep breath, she launched into the story of how Madame Sybila came to be—after she and Beatrix had met a fortune-teller early in their travels. The trip to Redhill passed quickly and pleasantly, even if there was a tang of bittersweetness as Rafe thought of their lost years.

  At least they’d found each other again. Their parents were lost to them forever.

  Redhill was a coaching stop on the way to Brighton, so there were several inns in the town. The Golden Eagle was of medium size with a bustling stable yard.

  Rafe and Selina left the coach in the capable hands of Rafe’s coachman and groom and went into the inn. Built within the last fifty years, the Golden Eagle was newer than some of the others they’d passed and in fine condition. The common room was clean and cheerful, with a bank of windows along the front that invited plenty of light.

  A lively servi
ng maid greeted them with a wide smile, her dark curls peeking from beneath her cap. “Stopping in for a bit, or do you need a room?”

  “Just stopping in,” Rafe said. “We’re looking for Mrs. Gill. Would you let her know Lady Selina Sheffield and Lord Stone are here to see her?” He and Selina had discussed how to introduce themselves and ultimately decided they should use their actual titles in the hope that it would persuade her to be completely honest.

  The maid’s blue eyes flashed with surprise. “Right away, my lord. My lady.” She dipped a curtsey to them both before disappearing through a doorway at the back of the common room.

  “That sounds so odd,” Selina said.

  It was as odd as suddenly owning multiple houses across England and being responsible for the livelihoods of everyone employed at them. Rafe had spent a few hours the night before questioning Thomas, Lord Rockbourne, his pretend brother-in-law. As a viscount, he was able to share many things with Rafe about his properties, his army of employees, and serving in the House of Lords. There was an astonishing amount to learn, and Rafe took his new role very seriously.

  Selina surveyed the room. “I’m nervous.”

  “I am too.”

  A woman emerged from the same doorway where the maid had disappeared. Her dark hair was almost completely covered by a cap, and her features were drawn tight as if she was nervous too.

  “Lord Stone?” she asked tentatively, her gaze flicking toward Selina. “Lady Selina?”

  “Yes,” Selina answered. “You are Mrs. Gill?”

  The woman, who was perhaps ten years older than Rafe, nodded. “How can I be of assistance to you?” She clasped her hands in front of her narrow waist.

  “I’ll get straight to the reason for our visit,” Rafe said. “We’re looking for your sister, Pauline Blaylock. Do you know where we can find her?”

  “It’s imperative we speak with her,” Selina added.

  The flesh around Mrs. Gill’s mouth tightened and paled. “She’s here. She’s quite ill, however. Indeed, she isn’t expected to survive much longer.”

  Rafe and Selina exchanged a panicked look. If they’d delayed the trip another day… Thankfully, they hadn’t. “May we speak with her? As my sister said, it’s incredibly important.” Rafe asked.

  Mrs. Gill cocked her head to the side. “She worked for the Earl of Stone, but that can’t have been you. That was years ago. I was a child when she left to take the position.”

  “She was our nurse,” Selina said, sounding a trifle impatient. “May we see her?” She took a breath and smiled, perhaps realizing she seemed anxious. “She used to sing to me. I don’t recall much from when I was young, but I remember that.”

  “Her voice was from the angels,” Mrs. Gill said with a nostalgic smile that quickly faded. “She hasn’t been able to sing for some time now. Come, I’ll take you to her room.”

  The innkeeper’s wife led them back through the doorway from whence she’d come. Rafe followed behind Selina, his body thrumming with anticipation.

  They moved down a narrow corridor to a room at the end. Mrs. Gill opened the door and invited them inside. A figure formed a small lump in the bedclothes. The smell of sickness permeated the space.

  “Polly,” Mrs. Gill called softly as she approached the bed. “You have a pair of guests. I think they may make you smile. Let me help you sit up.” She propped the pillows against the headboard and lifted the figure higher in the bed.

  Now visible, Pauline Blaylock looked much older than her probable age, which was likely not yet fifty. Her gray hair was gathered back from her face, but strands clung to her sunken cheeks. Her dark eyes seemed faded, as if she’d stared at the sun too long. She appeared a woman without much time, her pallor grayish and her body withered. If Rafe had come upon her, there would have been no recognition from him.

  “Who are they?” Pauline asked her sister, her expression confused.

  “This is Lord Stone and Lady Selina Sheffield. They said you were their nurse.”

  Rafe went rigid. Selina clasped his fingers briefly.

  Pauline’s eyes widened, and she let out a terrible sound that was part sob and part shriek. “It can’t be you.”

  Swallowing a cruel retort, Rafe moved closer to the bed. Mrs. Gill stepped out of the way. “It is.” He bent low so she could see his eye. “You recognize me, don’t you?”

  “Lord Sandon,” she breathed. Then her gaze drifted past him, fixing on Selina. “My precious girl.”

  “She is not and was never your girl,” Rafe said coldly. He had absolutely no sympathy for this woman on her deathbed. She’d stolen them from their life.

  Pauline looked back to Rafe, her body seeming to shrink beneath his stare. “No. I am glad to see you both looking so well. You are Lord Stone now?”

  The serving maid came to the room, interrupting them. Mrs. Gill excused herself, closing the door after she left.

  Selina moved to the bed. “Yes, he is Lord Stone. I am Lady Selina Sheffield. My husband is the son of the Earl of Aylesbury.”

  “As it should be,” Pauline said softly as tears pooled in her eyes. “As it should be. I am glad I am alive to see it. To see you both well.”

  Rafe chafed at her apparent joy. “We have only recently learned who we truly are. We have spent our lives wondering about our origins as we fought to survive. We have many questions, and you owe it to us to answer them to the best of your ability.”

  Pauline’s dry lips parted. She licked them as she looked toward Selina, perhaps hoping she would be less demanding than Rafe.

  “Why did you kidnap us from Stonehaven?” Selina asked. “We know about the fire and that we were presumed dead.”

  Her pallor went from gray to white. “I didn’t kidnap you. Not really.” She winced. “It’s a terrible, awful tale,” she whispered.

  Selina took Rafe’s hand and squeezed. “Tell us. And don’t leave anything out. It seems you are not long for this world and we would have the truth. We can’t ask Edgar—our ‘uncle’—nor can we ask our parents.”

  “Was Edgar even your brother?” Rafe asked, impatient to hear the story.

  “Oh, yes. He was the eldest of us. He was a footman at Stonehaven. He was sent there after starting at Ivy Grove. That’s how I was hired as your nurse.” She coughed, and a tear tracked down her lined face. “Water, please?” She inclined her head toward a pitcher and glass on a table at the end of the bed.

  Selina went to pour the water. She then helped the frail woman sip a bit.

  “Thank you,” Pauline said, gasping. “Are you certain you want to hear this? Perhaps it’s better to let the past alone, especially since you both appear to have landed on your feet.”

  “You have no idea what we have endured,” Selina snapped. She clutched the glass in her hand, and Rafe wondered if she might dump it on the woman’s head. “You stole us from our home. I was barely more than a babe. Your brother forced us to steal and lie and swindle. My brother had to save every penny we earned to send me away to school before I was raped and forced into prostitution.”

  Pauline shrank into the pillows, her eyes wide and filling with tears once more. “I didn’t know. At least you went to school.”

  “Where I was ridiculed for being less than my peers, and when I left to take respectable employment, I was raped anyway.” The revelation shook Rafe. He put his hand on his sister’s lower back, steadying her as much as himself. “And since then, I’ve had to scrape a living together to keep myself and my sister fed.”

  “You didn’t have a sister,” Pauline said, confused as she wiped a tear from her cheek.

  Selina swore as she went to slam the glass down on the table. When she returned, she stood close to Rafe, and he put his arm around her gently.

  “Never mind our sister,” Rafe said. “This isn’t a day for our revelations but for yours. Why did you take us away from Stonehaven and give us to Edgar?”

  “You won’t like it,” Pauline said, sniffing. “Your uncle hated you
r father. He wanted everything your father had, so he took what he could. He paid Edgar to start the fire, and we were to ensure that you”—she looked pointedly at Rafe—“and your father died.”

  A blinding rage took hold of Rafe. He gripped Selina harder than he should as the world around him went red.

  “He didn’t die, however,” Selina said from somewhere that sounded quite far away. “But our father did.”

  “He’d been given laudanum so that he wouldn’t be able to escape. Your mother refused to leave him. Her maid told me to take the two of you to safety. But I was supposed to make sure you were trapped.” She looked from Rafe to Selina. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave you in the fire. So I took you and ran.”

  “You left our parents to die?” Selina’s voice was closer now, but so small. The question pierced Rafe’s heart. This woman and her brother had taken everything from them.

  “You did this for money?” he asked, his vision clearing while a dull throb started at the back of his head.

  “More money than I could ever make in a lifetime as a nurse.”

  He curled his lip. “Yet you’re dying in the back room of your sister’s husband’s inn.”

  She turned her gaze to the wall. “I have made many poor choices.”

  “What did you do after you ran away?” Selina asked.

  “I was afraid of your uncle, that he’d catch me. Edgar wanted to take you, so I let him. I knew he was going to London. I went there too, but I didn’t stay long. I lost all my money and came here, where I married.”

  Selina practically growled in frustration. “Your life sounds rather normal.”

  Rafe repeated everything Pauline had said in his mind. Now, he summarized it out loud. “I want to make sure I understand: my uncle, Ludlow Mallory, arranged to murder my father and me. You know this for a fact?”

  Pauline looked him in the eye. “Yes. He asked Edgar to start the fire and later spoke directly with me and Edgar to discuss the details. He visited Stonehaven about a week before the fire to make the final arrangements.”