A Rogue to Ruin (The Pretenders #3) - Darcy Burke Page 0,63

gave him a benign smile. “Perhaps someday that will change.” She stood. “I’ll let you know when the dinner will be. And you’ll let me know if you’re going to contest his claim?”

He rose. “I will.”

“I truly hope you don’t. I believe you’ll regret it.”

He lifted a shoulder. “I haven’t yet decided, but I must do what I think is best. That is my duty.”

Anne tried not to frown. She said goodbye, then went to fetch Jane. When they were settled in the coach, Anne recounted the meeting.

Jane sat silent, her eyes widening, as Anne detailed what her godfather had said. “Contesting the claim would be a mess. I can’t believe he’s considering it. It’s not as if his nephew’s identity is in question. He is the child of the former earl.”

Anne nodded. “Exactly. I didn’t convince him not to do it, but I hope I said enough to give him pause. Perhaps Lorcan can help persuade him.”

“Lorcan might support him,” Jane said. “He stands to lose the title too.”

Anne waved her hand. “He doesn’t care so long as he has Kilmaar.” It occurred to Anne that if Rafe didn’t marry and have children, which it seemed he didn’t want to, Lorcan would still inherit.

Jane hesitated before asking, “Will you tell Rafe?”

That question weighed heavily on Anne’s mind. “My godfather said he would inform me if he plans to contest Rafe’s claim. I’ll alert him then. I don’t want to poison any chance for a relationship between them.”

Jane made a noise in her throat. “Isn’t the earl already doing that?”

Anne nodded. “I thought the same thing. But I see the predicament—and pain—they’re both in. They have been or will be harmed. In correcting the wrong done to Rafe, my godfather will suffer.”

“You are kind to think of them both. I’m not sure I could do the same if it were Anthony.”

In truth, Anne held more sympathy for Rafe, and she would be outraged if her godfather went forward with contesting Rafe’s claim. At the same time, she heard Rafe telling her he didn’t deserve her, that he wasn’t the man she thought he was. What was he hiding? And was there some way it would prevent him from living up to his duties as an earl?

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