A Rogue to Ruin (The Pretenders #3) - Darcy Burke Page 0,87

nephew, and as such, the rightful heir.”

“That is true, but in this instance, one must determine who is best to hold the title. I do argue that is not you.” He picked up his wine, and the air in the room was as thick as cold butter. “You seem surprised, which in turn surprises me. I would have thought my goddaughter would have told you I was considering this action.”

Rafe’s head turned toward her slowly. His features were impassive, but in his eyes, there was the barest flash of hurt.

Anne reached for him, her fingers lightly grazing his thigh beneath the table. His leg twitched, and she snatched her hand away. He was angry with her. Disappointed.

As he should be.

She’d hoped, foolishly, that her godfather would come to accept Rafe and the fact that he would be the earl. It seemed her godfather was not the man she thought.

Lorcan’s brow creased as he looked at his father. “Why would you contest Rafe’s claim? You’ve no idea what sort of earl he will be. Furthermore, it doesn’t matter what you think, because the title is his.”

“As I’ve said to many people, including you and Anne, on many occasions, it is up to me to see to the welfare of all the people at my estates. They depend upon the earl—me—to provide them with their livelihood. I also have responsibilities to our government, to the people of our kingdom. Knowing what I have learned about my nephew has led me to believe he cannot carry out these duties. Nor should he.”

What was he talking about? What had he learned? “I told you what a good man he is,” Anne blurted, glaring at her godfather. “How he helps people.”

Ludlow looked at her with a mix of condescension and sympathy. “That is what you said, yes. However, that is not who he really is. Did you know your betrothed has gone by many names?”

She knew he’d been Blackwell and then Bowles. Lifting her chin, she gave her godfather a cold stare. “Yes.”

“Did you know he was a man called the Vicar?”

Anthony abruptly stood. “Enough. Stone, I think you should go.”

Jane also rose, her eyes round. “He’s the Vicar?” She looked toward Rafe in disbelief, then frowned at her husband.

Anne looked around the table in confusion before fixing on Rafe beside her. “Who is the Vicar?”

“I am,” Rafe said softly, his gaze trained across the table on his uncle. “You’ve done some investigating, I see.”

“Yes, and my response to your claim details all of it: that you are a criminal moneylender known as the Vicar, that you led gangs of thieves and owned many receiver shops with which to fence the items the children who worked for you stole—”

“Stop.” Rafe cut him off, his voice icy and sharp.

Anne tried to process what her godfather had said. Rafe was a criminal?

Jane stepped out from her chair, staring at her husband. “I can’t believe you let my sister become betrothed to him!”

“He said he’d tell her everything, and I was stupid enough to believe him.” Anthony glared at Rafe.

Rafe turned in his chair toward Anne, his face still devoid of almost all emotion except a simmering rage. “I should have told you all this, and I’d planned to. I just…” He glowered toward his uncle, his lip curling and his hands clenching into fists. In that moment, he appeared a criminal, like a man who could hurt someone without much effort or concern.

Ludlow’s eyes glittered across the table. “Don’t forget to tell her how you worked closely with her former betrothed, how Chamberlain delivered gentlemen in need of loans to the Vicar’s doorstep and how you took advantage of their desperation.”

Now Anne stood, unable to remain still another moment. But her legs shook, and she had to clasp the back of the chair for support. “You knew Gilbert?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know I was marrying him?” She put her hand over her mouth as bile rose in her throat. “Would you have let me?”

Rafe bolted out of his chair and took a step toward her. “Never. I’ve thought of killing him for bringing you shame.” His jaw clenched.

“You’d kill him…” She shook her head, her vision swimming. Lowering her hand, she fought to take a breath. “You deny none of this.”

He shook his head as a glimmer of sadness, and perhaps regret, flickered in his eyes. “No. I was a thief. I worked for one of the most powerful criminal bosses in East London. As the Vicar, I lent