Because if anyone saw her, they might think she was mad, Evelyn slipped out of the residence and into the night without telling a soul—other than her lady’s maid, who’d assisted in dressing her—of her plans. The lights in the garden were not flickering, but remained dark, so it was only the moon that guided her steps to the far wall. When Rafe had left that afternoon, he’d told her he would be late so she was not expecting him until well after midnight.
The nights were usually the loneliest. During the day the air filled with the rattle of carriages and the clop of horses’ hooves. She would hear the din of people passing by, children running about in the distance and laughing. But when darkness fell, everything became quiet and she merely passed the time, like an ornament set on a mantel waiting to be taken down and admired, studied, touched.
But tonight the loneliness was worse because there were sounds. So many marvelous noises. Carriages were lined up on the street, and when she’d looked out one of the windows of a bedchamber upstairs, she saw them turning into the long drive of the residence next door. They were hosting a ball.
She could catch only glimpses of the people attending in their finery. They were too far away for her to discern any details. Bereft, she turned away from the window. She would never attend so glorious an occasion. She would never receive invitations. She would never be welcomed into proper homes. She would always be an outcast, for no matter how much she might gain in possessions, she could not change the circumstance of her birth. It would continue to overshadow every other aspect of her life.
Because these maudlin thoughts threatened to take a stranglehold, she marched to her bedchamber and rang for Lila. An hour later, within the shadows of the garden, she listened as the music wafted on the breeze. She imagined the doors that led onto the terrace were open, allowing the air to cool the guests as they waltzed over the polished floor. She was tempted to retrieve a ladder, place it against the wall, and peer over into the neighbor’s domain, but she was no longer a child who didn’t know how rude and intrusive it was to spy through holes in fences. So she merely listened and imagined it.
She could hear people talking, quiet whisperings and murmurs mingled with soft sighs. Lovers meeting for a tryst no doubt. Lovers were acceptable, mistresses were not. It hardly seemed fair, but then allowances were made when the heart was involved. The music drifted into silence. She missed it, missed it terribly. Perhaps she would hire an orchestra to play for her and Rafe one evening. He didn’t seem to care one whit how she spent his money. His concerns revolved around only what occurred in the bedchamber.
The lilting strains of a waltz floated over the wall. Swaying with the gentle music, she raised her arms as her dancing instructor had taught her, resting one hand on an imaginary tall gentleman, envisioning him placing his hand on her waist, squeezing slightly, a secret shared, that something intimate existed between them. He held her other hand and began to lead her in swirls about the garden, his eyes on hers because he was too infatuated with her to look away.
She dipped one way, twirled around, and her imaginary gentleman took form, a solid hand at her waist, a warm one holding hers. Rafe. Without missing a step, he guided her over the lawn in perfect cadence with the music. She didn’t remember dropping her hand to his shoulder. Perhaps because it was already the perfect height for him to slip beneath. Holding his gaze, she smiled softly. “I wasn’t expecting you until midnight.”
“I hadn’t planned to return until after midnight.”
“Yet, here you are.”
“Here I am.”
“You must think me quite the ninny to be dancing in the garden.”
“I think you’re beautiful dancing in the garden, with just enough moonlight to make you mysterious.” His voice was low, sultry. He smelled of tobacco and whiskey. “You’re wearing the red.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”
“You like it.”
“I love it. Blast you. You knew I’d wear it.”
He grinned, his teeth pearly in the moonlight. “I had hoped. It suits you as I thought it would.”
The music stopped, and when the next tune began—a quadrille—they continued to waltz. So like him. Determined not to conform, but to do exactly as he wanted, and he obviously preferred waltzing.
“I’ve never danced with a gentleman before.”
“You’re not dancing with one now.”
Only she was. He saw himself as a rogue, a scoundrel, but threads of goodness were woven through the coarse fabric of his character.
“I’ve never been to a ball,” she told him. “Do they have many next door?”
“This is their first in London.”
“They seem to have drawn quite the crowd.”
“Because they’re a curiosity.”
“Who are they?”
He merely shook his head and studied her intently. “Did you wish to go?”
To the bedchamber. It was where they were inclined to spend all their time now, and while it was lovely when he was with her, sometimes she wanted more. “A few more moments before we go indoors.”
“I was referring to the ball. Would you like to make an appearance?”
A shiver of anticipation raced through her, before it crashed into reality. “What do you plan? Climbing over the wall? You can’t simply arrive. You must be invited.”
“I received an invitation.”
She nearly tripped over her feet. His hold on her tightened as he steadied her. Naturally he’d been invited. He was a lord. An available one at that. The mamas would be all over him, striving to match him up with their respectable daughters. She shifted her attention to the wall, thinking of the glamour that rested beyond. It was a world into which she’d hardly been allowed to peer. Stepping away from him, she walked into the deeper shadows. She had so often dreamed of attending a ball, but the price now . . .
She shook her head. “They’d not welcome me.”
“They would or they’d deal with my wrath.” He glided his finger along the nape of her neck, then across her bared shoulder. “Evie, if you want to go, I’ll take you.”
As she turned around, his finger remained on her skin until it came to rest in the hollow at her throat. “People will know I’m your mistress.”
“When will you learn that they don’t matter? None of them matter. Besides, it’s not as though you’ll be announced as such. You’ll be announced as Miss Evelyn Chambers. That I accompany you might raise a few eyebrows but that will be because of my reputation, not yours. The gents who were at Wortham’s aren’t going to say anything. They’re not likely to admit that they didn’t end up with the prize.”
If she was going to become infamous, make Geoffrey regret his treatment of her, she supposed tonight was as good a night as any to begin. “Yes, all right. Let’s go.”
His finger dipped down to touch the chiffon that began just below the swell of her breast. “The red is for me. I suggest you change into the purple.”
She had planned to do exactly that. The red was gorgeous but incredibly scandalous with its frightfully low neckline. She expected at any moment to pop right out of it. “I shan’t be long.”
“Take all the time you need. I have it on good authority that this particular ball shall go on forever.”
Or at least it would feel as though it was going on forever, Rafe mused while his valet assisted him as much as possible into his formal attire. Rafe buttoned the blue silk brocade waistcoat because the dexterity required was beyond Bateman’s skills. When finished, Rafe slipped his arms into the black swallowtail coat that his man held for him.
“Can’t remember the last time you dressed so formally,” Bateman said, masterfully brushing the lint off the jacket.
He wished he wasn’t wearing it now. He didn’t know what had possessed him to tell Eve he’d take her to the damned ball.
He’d not planned to return to the residence until late, but he’d been at the club no more than an hour before he found himself thinking of her, wondering what she was doing. He’d found her in the garden waltzing. Alone. He didn’t even remember striding across the lawn. He knew only that suddenly she was in his arms and they were moving in rhythm to the music.
Her touch was light, so very light upon his shoulder that he’d barely felt it, and therefore he’d been able to endure it. With little regard to consequences, he’d almost told her to tighten her hold, to close her fingers around him. Would it be different with her? Could it be different with any woman?
He didn’t know. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t risk it.
Because there was far too much of himself that he couldn’t share with her, he had decided to give her this ball.
Evelyn had often crouched at the top of the stairs and watched as the countess, dressed in her finery, descended to the foyer where the Earl of Wortham waited for her. She’d always thought that her father was the handsomest then, when he was accompanying his countess to a ball or the theater. Rafe quite literally put her father’s handsomeness to shame. When he was dressed in evening clothes, he was devastatingly gorgeous. She suspected the ladies would be clamoring to dance with him. With the thought, a fissure of jealousy went through her. They would be the sort whom he would marry, and when he did, he would no doubt dispense with her. If not, she would leave, in spite of everything her leaving would cause her to give up. She would not share him with another who warmed his bed. She almost told him that she’d changed her mind: she didn’t wish to attend the ball. Almost. But she had wanted to experience one for far too long to give up on the dream now. Besides she might never have another opportunity.
She was not yet infamous, but once she was, doors that had never been opened to her would be bolted shut forever.
She had always imagined seeing pleasure rippling over her own husband’s face as she descended the stairs to meet him, but Rafe was not her husband, and as he stood in the foyer, his expression gave away nothing. He merely studied her with heavily-lidded eyes.
She wished she could hide her thoughts so well, but she suspected that her eyes were shining at the sight of him. Even in his black tailcoat with every strand of hair perfectly combed, he appeared dark and dangerous, someone no one would want to meet in an alley late at night. His broad shoulders filled his jacket nicely. His black trousers hugged his long legs. He tugged at his white gloves. Hers went up over her elbow, fit so snuggly that her fingers would no doubt be numb by the end of the evening. But she didn’t care. She was going to attend a formal affair.
As her slippered feet took the last step and settled on the marble in the foyer, he took his top hat from Laurence and settled it on his head. When she reached him, he extended his arm. He’d only offered that courtesy to her once, the night they’d walked through St. Giles, and she’d assumed he’d done it then as a means of protecting her. Was he thinking he needed to serve as her protector now? She smiled brightly before placing her hand on his forearm.
“I can’t believe I’m going to attend a ball,” she enthused.
“I’m confident you’ll find it dreadfully dull,” he said drolly.
“Nothing you say will diminish my excitement.”
Laurence opened the door and they swept through into the night. She was surprised to see a carriage waiting for them. “It’s not that far a walk,” she said.
“Far enough.”
A footman opened the door, and Rafe assisted her inside. As she settled onto the soft cushion, she supposed walking would have given her a dirty hem and slippers, but the carriage meant enduring the long line of arrivals. She was afraid if she had time to give all this too much thought, she would lose her courage.
Rafe took his seat across from her, bringing with him his glorious male fragrance of cigar, sandalwood, and bergamot.
“Have you attended many parties?” she asked.
“Enough to know I don’t much like them.”
“Then why are we going?”
“Because you shouldn’t be dancing in a garden; you should be dancing in a ballroom.”
Nothing he could have said would have pleased her more. “Are you certain they won’t mind that you’ve brought a guest?”
“Sweetheart, they’ll be so flummoxed that I arrived at all that they would not object if I walked into the ballroom naked.”
She laughed lightly. “I daresay they would object to that.”
He tilted his head. “Perhaps I overstate things. You look beautiful, you know.”
She pressed her fingers to the pearls he’d given her. “So do you.”
He laughed, just a quick burst of sound that reverberated around them.
“I mean it,” she said, slightly offended that he didn’t seem to believe her. “You are quite possibly the handsomest man I’ve ever seen. I thought that the first night I met you. I kept stealing glances at you when I was talking with the other gentlemen.” She interlaced her fingers tightly, hoping the pain might stop her from opening her mouth. “I don’t know why I confessed that. Nervous, I suppose.”
“You have no reason to be nervous, I assure you, but I should warn you that our host is not such a handsome fellow. He was gravely wounded during the war. His face is rather scarred. It can be disconcerting when you first see the extent of the damage.”
“He’s a soldier then, not a lord.” She felt a sense of relief. She would not be mingling about with the upper crust. But what of the little boy? Was he only visiting.
“He’s a duke.”
Her stomach knotted. “Perhaps we should reconsider.”
“I never took you to be cowardly.”
“I’m not afraid, but I don’t wish to create scandal. You said this was their first ball. I don’t want to ruin it for them.”
“You won’t.”
The carriage rocked to a halt. The door opened. Rafe fairly leapt out before extending his hand to her. Taking a deep steadying breath, she placed hers in his. His fingers closed around hers, strong and purposeful. She alighted, taking in the sight of so many footmen scurrying about to assist the guests as they arrived. She thought everyone would be here by now, that they would be the last, but she supposed people came and went all night. The residence was as large as Rafe’s, perhaps larger.
As he escorted her up the steps, she said, “They have a son. I hear him playing in the garden sometimes.”
“He’s but two. He’ll be abed.”
“You seem to know them very well.”
“Not so well.”
They stepped through the doorway, and he handed his hat to a servant while she took in everything. It was gorgeous. Family portraits adorned the walls. Something about them was familiar. It was the eyes she realized. All the gentlemen had such pale blue eyes.
But before she could give it much more thought, Rafe was escorting her down a hallway where a few couples waited in line. They looked at him but said nothing, and she wondered if they knew who he was.
“Do you suppose Geoffrey will be here?” she whispered.
“I doubt it. He was lost in the cards when I left the club.”
She was glad of that. He’d no doubt make a fuss, although she suspected Rafe would put a stop to it quickly enough. She did wish now that she had purchased some pearl combs for her hair, but she couldn’t bring herself to spend his money, to place herself more in his debt.
Then they were through the doorway, and her breath fairly escaped her body. It was all that she had imagined. Stairs led down into the enormous parlor. Candles flickered in the chandeliers. A mirrored wall reflected the guests milling around the edges of the dance area. The fragrance of the abundance of flowers scattered about permeated the air with a heady aroma. The ceiling was so high up that the room contained a balcony where the orchestra played. On the opposite side from where she and Rafe stood, the doors were open onto the terrace.
Leaning over, Rafe said something to the liveried servant standing there. Then he placed his hand over hers where it still rested on his arm.
“Miss Evelyn Chambers,” the man announced in a booming voice that nearly stopped her heart. “Lord Rafe Easton.”
She had assumed he would come here as a lord, but still it was disconcerting to hear him announced as such. It was so easy to forget that he inhabited this world, while she had only skipped at the edge of it. At the foot of the stairs, a couple jerked up their heads and Eve saw the scarred visage of the duke. Even Rafe’s warning had not prepared her for the massive threads of thick skin that resembled molten wax easing out from around the black eye patch and down to the man’s jaw. In contrast, the woman beside him was perfection, with bright green eyes and flaming red hair. She smiled warmly as Evelyn and Rafe descended.
As they got nearer, Evelyn realized the man’s remaining eye was the same shade as Rafe’s, ice over a clear blue lake. She fought to keep her mouth closed, to not look stunned. She didn’t want him to think it was his face that so startled her, rather than the realization that she was on the verge of meeting Rafe’s other brother. She was sure of it. If she blocked out the scars, he looked very much like the man she’d met in the park. She was half tempted to smack her fist against Rafe’s arm. Why hadn’t he confided in her?
As they came to a stop before the couple, Evelyn took a deep curtsy. “Your Graces.”
The duke merely studied her, probably seeing more with his one eye than most people did with two.
“Miss Chambers, it is a pleasure,” the duchess said. “And you—” She slapped her fan against Rafe’s shoulder. “How wicked of you not to tell us you were coming.”
“I wasn’t certain I’d be able to find the time.”
“But then he caught me dancing in the garden—”
“Our garden?” the duke interrupted.
Taken aback by his brusque tone, Evelyn shook her head. “No, his garden. On the other side of the wall.”
The duke glared. “You live in that monstrosity on the other side of the wall?”
“No. Miss Chambers resides there. I live in the rooms at my club. And now if you’ll excuse us, I hear a waltz starting. I promised the lady a dance.”
Before anyone could respond, he wrapped his long fingers around her arm and was propelling her toward the dance floor.
“That was remarkably rude,” she muttered.
“We didn’t come here to talk. We came here to dance.”
“Why didn’t you tell me whose affair we were attending?”
“What does it matter? You wanted to attend a ball, and you have. One dance and we leave. Enjoy it, sweetheart.”
Within the mad crush of dancing couples, he took her into his arms and glided her over the polished wood. She wanted to remain irritated with him, but decided to lock it away until later. She didn’t understand his relationship with his brothers—except to think that he didn’t truly have one. But for now, she was at a ball dancing with a handsome gentleman. She wouldn’t have it ruined.
“Why didn’t you let him know that you lived beside him?” All right. Perhaps it would be ruined.
“It never came up in conversation.”
“You can be the most infuriating man—”
“Who brought you to something he despises so you might find some enjoyment.”
That knocked all the fight out of her. “Do you really despise it?”
“Only because it reminds me of my roots, and they were dug up long ago.”
“But roots always return to where they were, don’t they? They return to the soil.”
“Oh, my little philosopher, can you not see that they are as uncomfortable with me being here as I am with being here? Many of these gents frequent my club. They owe me a good deal of coin. A few even spend time with my girls. I know their darkest indiscretions.”
“Which gents?”
He gave her a sardonic smile. “Would you have me lose my value as a keeper of secrets?”
The music drifted into silence and the disappointment hit her. They would leave now. She supposed she should be grateful for the time she had. Only he didn’t escort her from the dance floor, and when the strains of another waltz began, he led her into it. She smiled up at him. For all his gruffness and complaining, she doubted he was going to whisk her away, back to his residence, as quickly as he’d said. He was going to give her this night until she was tired of it. She was sure of it.
“Madame Charmaine told me that you and your brothers have only been known in London for three years. Surely you’ve had your club longer than that.”
“I acquired it when I was seventeen, but I used the name Rafe Weston.”
“Clever. East. West. But no one recognized you?”
“I was ten when we . . . disappeared, as it was so gently put. No one looked for us. No one tried to find us. The most popular tale was that we were eaten by wolves. Wolves, Evie. One of us perhaps, but all three of us? The other two wouldn’t have stood around, twiddling their thumbs waiting to be devoured. Yet people believed it.”
He sounded so incredibly offended. She supposed that she could hardly blame him. “But surely once you returned, they were glad to see you.”
“Not as glad as you might think. Uncle had made friends. We weren’t very polished, but mostly, this isn’t the world in which I grew up. I’m far more comfortable walking through St. Giles.”
Which she found so very sad. He should have been comfortable here. She wouldn’t ask him to stay any longer than this dance. So she decided to make the most of these few precious moments. A month ago, a week ago, she would have looked around, taking in all the beautiful gowns, the well-dressed gentlemen. She would have noticed hairstyles and jewelry. She would have watched the orchestra playing, the flames flickering in the chandeliers. Now she merely focused on him. The way his ice-blue eyes remained on her, the set of his mouth and how she longed for it to curl up into a smile. The weight of his touch at her waist. The gentleness with which he held her hand. The feel of her palm curved around his strong shoulder. The heat in his gaze. The promise she saw there that the night would end with pleasure in her bed. She had never wanted to be a mistress, but she did acknowledge that she wanted to be with him.
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 thing.”
“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.