When the final strains of the song drifted away, she knew she would remember them always, and the gift he had given her of waltzing in a ballroom. “We should leave now, I think.”
His gaze intense, he gave her a quick nod. Then he did something he’d never done. He laced his fingers through hers. The small act seemed almost as intimate as being in bed with him. Wending their way through the throng, he guided her around the couples until they reached the outer edge. His hold on her hand tightened as Lord Tristan, Lady Anne beside him, stepped into their path.
Lord Tristan smiled broadly. “Heard you were about. Thought you might join me for a drink in the library.”
“We’re leaving now.”
“So soon?” Lady Anne asked, clear disappointment in her voice. She looked at Evelyn. “I thought we might get a chance to visit, just for a moment. We have so much in common.”
Evelyn wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I’m not certain we do.”
“We’re both on the arm of a Pembrook lord. I find it terribly challenging. We could discuss it. You don’t mind, do you, Rafe?”
“One drink,” Tristan said. “Just to be polite.”
“Being polite is not what I’m known for.”
“Don’t be stubborn. Five minutes is all we’re asking.”
Evelyn didn’t want to interfere. This matter was between Rafe and his brothers, but neither did she want a lovely evening spoiled for everyone simply because he’d given her the gift of dance in a ballroom. She squeezed his hand. He looked down at her and she smiled. “I’ll be perfectly fine with Lady Anne if you wish to join them.”
He sighed heavily. “I don’t wish it, but I suppose a few minutes delay will cause no harm.” His fingers released their hold on hers. “I won’t be long.”
She watched him stride away with his brother. They cut fine figures, both tall and broad-shouldered, dark hair shining almost blue in the candlelight. She could see people turning to observe them.
“They gather attention wherever they go,” Lady Anne said.
“Yes, I’ve heard they’re a curiosity.”
“Oh, there is that, but mostly I think it’s because they’re so devilishly handsome and they strut about with such confidence. They intimidate a good many.”
Yes, Evelyn could see that.
“Will you join me on the terrace for some fresh air?” Lady Anne asked.
Evelyn was surprised by the invitation. Obviously Lady Anne didn’t truly understand Evelyn’s role in Rafe’s life. “That’s very kind but—”
“Don’t even think of refusing me.” She slipped her arm through Evelyn’s and began strolling toward the open doors. “I know what it is to be a curiosity myself. I mourned my fiancé’s passing for two years. When I finally returned to Society, everyone was scrutinizing my behavior. It was quite irritating. We tend to judge far too much I think.”
They walked onto the cobblestone and crossed over to the railing that bordered the terrace. From here, Evelyn could make out the rooftop of Rafe’s residence in the distance. With the brick fence and the trees and shrubbery, it was impossible to see into the next yard, and each house sat on a lovely plot of land that put distance between the residences.
“I can’t believe that’s Rafe’s property,” Lady Anne said. “We didn’t know.”
“I live there. You really shouldn’t befriend me.”
“Why? Because you’re his mistress? None of us are completely pure. Would you feel more comfortable with me knowing that Lord Tristan and I were lovers before we married?”
Evelyn knew her eyes widened. Fortunately she was able to keep her mouth from gaping open.
“I only tell you,” Lady Anne began, “because I can see what you mean to him. I was rude enough to watch as you were dancing. He never took his gaze from you. I think he cares for you, so I want you to feel at ease with us.”
Evelyn blinked. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Rafe’s a loner. Yet here you are. With him.”
“It’s not what you think,” Evelyn assured her. She couldn’t risk thinking that it might be more, because she knew he could very easily break her heart.
“Forgive me then. I’m just a romantic. Oh, and look, Mary’s coming to visit with us. She knows the Pembrook lords better than any of us. She grew up with them.”
“They’re not the boys I knew,” the duchess said as she joined them. “But I’m ever so glad Rafe is here tonight.” She smiled. “I suspect you’re responsible for that.”
“I only wanted to dance.”
“Well, perhaps you’ll get another dance before you leave. Sebastian shouldn’t keep him overly long, but as it’s been a good long while since Rafe has been to the manor when Sebastian was here, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to speak with him.”
“I understand they separated when they were boys.”
“They had no choice.” And Mary began to tell her the tale.
“How long have you lived there?” Sebastian asked.
They were in his well-appointed library. He sat on the edge of his desk, Tristan lounged in a nearby chair, and Rafe leaned against the fireplace. They each held a glass of whiskey.
“Three years longer than you’ve lived here.” Rafe shrugged. “It allowed me to keep a watch over Uncle.”
“Why didn’t you tell us? Everyone is of the belief that Lord Loudon lives there, although he’s not been to town in years from what I understand.”
“I didn’t want Uncle to know I was there, so Loudon and I handled the transaction very quietly. I pay him a yearly sum to maintain that he still owns it. The fact that he doesn’t come to town means that no one calls, so no one learned differently.” Although now he supposed he could dispense with paying the man.
“But you could have told us,” Sebastian insisted.
“As I said, I normally stay at the club. It’s just a bit of property. Besides I don’t really consider my properties to be any of your affair.” And he hadn’t wanted Sebastian popping over or interfering with his life, and he’d feared he do that if he knew that their residences were in such close proximity. Besides he liked that people—even his brothers—knew so little about him.
“How wealthy are you?” Tristan asked.
“Wealthier than you, I’d wager.”
“And this woman you brought here tonight,” Sebastian began.
“Miss Chambers.”
“She’s your mistress?”
“You say that as though you disapprove. Considering the scandal that resulted in your marriage, I’d rethink my tone if I were you.”
“I’m not finding fault. I’m simply trying to understand—” Dragging his hand through his hair, he sent his eye patch askew, scowled as he straightened it. Rafe had never considered that after all this time, his brother wasn’t completely accustomed to the changes the war had wrought. “Why must you keep your distance, be so secretive? You’re our brother. We might not have been there for you for twelve years, but we can be here for you now.”
“I don’t need you now.”
“One always needs family,” Tristan murmured, staring into his glass.
“Don’t take it personally. I was on my own—”
“We were all on our own.”
“Not like I was. Sebastian had his comrades in arms, you had the crew of your ship.” I had no one. I was completely, absolutely alone. “I’m not discussing this.”
“I want to know what your life was like, what happened while we were away,” Sebastian said.
Rafe shook his head. “No, Sebastian, you don’t.”
Sebastian downed the remnants of his glass. “I’ve been reading troubling accounts in the newspaper about some of the workhouses and the conditions there. Did they beat you?”
“What does it matter?”
“They did then.”
Rafe sighed. “Does it make you feel better knowing that? At least none of the punishments left scars. Tristan can’t claim the same th
ing.”
“I wouldn’t have left you there if I’d known what truly took place within its walls. I thought it a place that took care of orphans and abandoned children. Not abused them.”
Rafe had never wanted his brothers to know what he’d suffered. It had made him feel weak that he’d not been able to stand up for himself, that even the heritage of which he’d been so damned proud carried no sway within the confines of the workhouse. It had only made things worse because no one believed him. They ridiculed him and made his punishments harsher. Everyone had only served to reinforce his suspicions regarding why his brothers had left him behind: because he was inadequate, unable to be of any value in helping them escape. He was a deterrent, a burden, incapable of carrying his own weight. “I truly see no point in traveling this path. It only serves to bring to the surface what is best left undisturbed.”
Sebastian studied him for a moment, while Tristan contemplated the contents of his glass.
“As you wish,” Sebastian finally said. “We won’t talk of the past then. But we can move forward. I want my son to know you, to know both his uncles, to understand that what he inherits, he does so only because you and Tristan were willing to fight with me for our birthright. He needs to fully comprehend the legacy that is being passed down to him.”
Rafe almost responded, “No, he doesn’t. Not my legacy at least.” Instead, he said, “Once I left”—escaped—“the workhouse, and made my way to London, not everything I did was within the law.”
“You think that everything I did was?” Tristan asked. “I wasn’t serving in her Majesty’s navy, you know. I was on a ship captained by a man who thought laws only applied when he was on land—and then only when he was in the mood to heed them. On his ship, he was Caesar. We didn’t always come by our spoils honestly.”
“But when you were captain of your own ship?”
Tristan swirled the liquid in his glass. “A ship I won at cards. Cheated to obtain it, if you want the truth. Because I was desperate to have it, to be in control. My point is that we have all done things with which we must live, but at least we are here to live with them. I for one am glad of that. Even arguing with you is better than not having you around to argue with.”
Rafe looked over at Sebastian. “Does he always talk this much?”
“Afraid so, but every now and then he does say something worth listening to.”
“I wouldn’t have to carry the weight of the conversation if you weren’t so melancholy. It’s the horrors he faced in the war,” Tristan added for Rafe’s benefit. “The one thing you can say is that we’ve not led boring lives. Perhaps we should consider that Uncle did us a favor.”
“No,” Sebastian growled at the same time that Rafe said, “Never.”
Tristan appeared very pleased with himself, as though he’d just proven that for all their differences, they did have commonalities. “Join us on the ship Friday.”
Begrudgingly Rafe said, “I’ll consider it.”
“Well, then we’re making progress.” Tristan downed his drink and stood. “Now, if you gents will excuse me, I need to dance with my wife.”
Rafe watched him stride from the room, before setting his own glass on the mantel. “I should be off as well.”
“He’s not as unaffected as he acts,” Sebastian said. “Did you know that I sold him?”
Rafe hadn’t known, but before he could respond Sebastian continued. “For a pouch of coins so I could purchase my commission. He never said a word. After we reached the wharves. He just remained stoic and silent. It always haunted me.”
“Unlike me, who blubbered and begged.”
“You were only ten. It tore me apart to leave you behind, but it was either the workhouse or settling you with gypsies. I didn’t know how else to protect you. And in spite of the hardships I suspect you suffered, I’m extremely proud to call you brother. You not only survived, but you’ve done very well for yourself.”
Rafe didn’t know what to say, how to respond. “I need to make sure that Evelyn is carrying on all right.”
“Off with you then.”
Rafe was halfway across the room when he stopped and said over his shoulder, “You’re a better man than I am. You and Tristan.” It was all he could give his brother for now, but perhaps it was a start.
Chapter 16
She was in her nightdress by the time she heard him leave his bedchamber. She expected him to come to her, but instead his footsteps echoed in the hallway, growing fainter as he retreated down the stairs. She considered crawling into bed, but had decided this mistress business involved more than what happened between the sheets. He might not want it to be so, but it was. For whatever reason, he was estranged from his brothers, and while he might not admit it, it caused him considerable pain.
Grabbing her wrap, she slipped into it and belted it firmly at her waist before heading out of her room and following the path she was certain he had taken. He might have gone to his club for all she knew, but she hoped not. She knew it was his place of solace, when she dearly wanted to play that role in his life. She wasn’t certain when she’d developed such a fondness for him. He was obstinate, moody, and didn’t possess a frivolous bone in his entire body, but for the moment at least, he was hers.
Until he tired of her, she intended to have some purpose in his life other than looking presentable and being available for him to slake his lust upon. Because it was after midnight, the servants were already abed, so she opened the door to the library herself, not even certain why she knew that she would find him there—if he were still in residence.
He was. Dressed in his loose linen shirt and trousers, one arm raised, pressed to the mantel, while the other held an almost empty tumbler. He was staring into the barren hearth before glancing back at her, heavy lidded.
“Go on to bed, Evie. I won’t be bothering you tonight.”
Her belly clutched painfully, and her chest filled with a sadness that nearly cracked her ribs. Was that how he viewed things between them: that his coming to her was a bother for her? Did her cries of pleasure mean nothing? Did he not understand that she had come to cherish him? Did she mean nothing at all to him?
She wandered over to the table, removed the stopper from a decanter, and lifted it.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m of a mind to have something to drink.” She filled a glass. With decanter in hand, she walked over to him and poured the amber liquid into his glass. She could feel his speculative gaze on her, but didn’t dare bring herself to look into his eyes. They could easily dissuade her from her purpose. She returned the decanter to the table, took her glass, and made herself comfortable in a nearby chair, pulling her legs beneath her. She lifted her glass. “Cheers.”
She downed a good bit, let the warmth swirl through her, igniting her courage. “They didn’t want to leave you, you know.”
He released a strangled laugh. “I know.” He turned his attention back to the empty hearth.
“I understand that it doesn’t make it any easier, though. The knowing,” she said. “When I was a little girl and my mother was still alive, the earl would come to visit us. Every time he left, she sat by the window and gave herself leave to cry for two minutes. Then she would stop, wipe her nose with her silk handkerchief, and say, ‘He doesn’t want to leave us, Evelyn, but he has no choice. Duty and all that rubbish.’ I thought there must be something that would allow him to stay, and then my mother died, and I was able to be with him.”
He snapped his head around, penetrating her soul with his focus. “You didn’t make your mother die.”
“I know, but still it was a silly thing to wish for. Do you think either of them had it easier than you?”
“No.” His attention was back on the hearth. “But I don’t think either of them had to do what I did to survive.”
She swallowed more Scotch before tightening her arms around her legs. “What did you do, Rafe?”
Slowly he shook his head. “You d
on’t want to know, Evie.”
“Do you do those things now?”
“No.” He glowered at her. “Absolutely not.”
“Then perhaps they don’t matter.” She took another sip. Amazing how relaxed she was becoming. “Would it be so awful do you think to go on the boat with your brother?”
“Ship.”
She giggled, then sobered. “Their wives seem very nice. Did you know …” She looked at her glass, wrinkled her brow. “Oh, it’s empty.”
In long strides he went to the table, retrieved the decanter, and refilled her glass. He took the chair opposite her. “Did I know?”
Lowering her voice so revealing a confidence wouldn’t seem quite so wicked, she said, “Lord Rafe and Lady Anne were intimate before they married.”
“Yes, I knew. All of London knew. Even though he denied it later, I think everyone recognized his denial was a lie, a wish to protect her when it was far too late.”
“Oh.” Pondering, she took a long sip of the Scotch. “Why are mistresses looked down upon then? If others do it without benefit of marriage.”
“I suppose it has to do with love.”
“Have you ever loved anyone?” Looking at him over the rim of her glass, she sipped again. It was a funny thing but the more she drank, the more she wanted to drink.
“My father. Never knew my mother. She died when I was born.” He rubbed his thumb over his lower lip, a lip she wanted to kiss. What would he do if she got up, crossed the distance separating them, bent over, and placed her mouth against his? “I suppose she was the first person I killed.”
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