Anne’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t suddenly ascend. You’re simply newly aware.”
“No, he’s quite right,” Lady Colton said. “He isn’t currently the earl. He will be. Next week, probably.” She smiled at him. “Please forgive our intrusion. We came to discuss Spitfire business with you, as one of our primary supporters.”
Yes, he’d pledged a great deal of money to their endeavors, particularly because Selina was so heavily involved. She planned to start an orphanage that would ensure stable futures for the children who landed there, and it would be located in East London. Rafe could think of nothing more noble to do with the wealth he’d accumulated.
However, he doubted very much that the Spitfire Society was the purpose for their visit. “I see. How may I be of service?”
Anne came toward him. “That’s just a poppycock excuse.” He nearly laughed at her explanation. “I wanted to see you, and Jane was kind enough to offer to bring me.”
“If you wish to talk privately, I’d be delighted to peruse your library.” Lady Colton smiled at them, then promptly turned her back as she studied the bookshelves.
Rafe looked at Anne in question, and at her slight nod, he gestured for her to precede him to his study. When they arrived, she turned and walked past him to shut the door.
“Scandalous,” he murmured.
“Only if we’re caught, and we won’t be.”
“But your sister is in the library.”
“My sister brought me here.” Anne arched a pale brow at him. “And my sister nursed her husband back to health after he collapsed on her doorstep beat to ribbons. They were alone in her house for a week. She is not going to blink at my being alone with you behind a closed door. In fact, she is in support of it. She knows, as do I, that you need me.”
Rafe stifled a smile. “Do I?” He went to the sideboard where he kept wine and his favorite gin. “Would you care for a drink? So long as we’re not being scandalous.”
“No, thank you. But please help yourself.”
He poured himself a small glass of gin. Taking a sip, he went to the seating area situated in the center of the room. “Shall we sit?”
She went to the settee and perched on the edge, seeming as if she might not stay there. He considered whether he should join her there, but decided it would be more prudent if he took a chair. Distance between them was probably best.
Except she frowned as he moved toward the chair. “Will you sit with me?” she asked.
He should have anticipated that she would voice her desires. She had never been shy about doing so. He admired that about her.
Rafe sat on the settee against one of the high ends, bringing his knee up onto the cushion as he faced her. She scooted back, situating herself more squarely on the settee.
She pivoted toward him. “I wanted to hug you when I arrived.”
He was disappointed she didn’t. “You think I need comfort?”
“Don’t you? Yesterday has forever changed you.”
“Has it?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You are answering me with a great many questions today.”
He was. “My apologies. I am at sixes and sevens.”
She exhaled as she untied her bonnet and set it on the arm of the settee behind her. “Understandably so. I’ve been concerned.”
“Why?” He sipped his gin, enthralled by her care and, frankly, thrilled for the distraction.
She frowned at him. “You just said you were at sixes and sevens.”
“I am…overwhelmed. As evidenced by the fact that I haven’t even told my employees what happened. I suppose it doesn’t feel real to me yet.” And it had nothing to do with the title—that was inconsequential compared to what was truly important, that he’d found his parents. He tossed back the rest of his gin, appreciating the heat along his tongue and throat. “What happened yesterday after we left?”
“The picnic continued, even though my godfather wanted to call it off. Deborah convinced him to allow the event to proceed. They didn’t inform Lorcan of what happened until after everyone had left. Did you meet Lorcan?” she asked.
Rafe shook his head. “How did he react?”
“He was surprisingly calm. His initial concern was that he would no longer have access to the estate in Ireland. He really loves it there.”
“I own an estate in Ireland?” Rafe shook his head. Harry was still working on accumulating a full accounting of the assets that should rightfully belong to Rafe. Perhaps the Irish property belonged to his uncle. Except if his cousin was now worried he wouldn’t have access, that seemed unlikely.
“You own many things,” Anne said.
“Your godfather was very upset.”
She blinked. “Of course. Wouldn’t you be?”
“I am upset to learn I was stolen from my home and denied my birthright.” His voice had risen. When he thought of the hardship he and Selina had faced and survived, he wanted to rage.
Anne sucked in a breath. She scooted forward on the cushion, her eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
Rafe stood and took his empty glass to the sideboard. He set it down and looked at the painting in front of him. It was of some nameless subject. He realized he likely now owned countless portraits of his family members. Was there one of his parents, or had it burned in the fire? He was desperate to find one.
He turned to face Anne. “What did Lady Burnhope say?” Rafe was particularly interested in what his cousin would do. She despised Selina and would most certainly be displeased that her foe from school was now her cousin. Selina was utterly disgusted.
“She ranted about the unfairness of it, which wasn’t helpful.” Anne made a face. “Deborah can be difficult to like.”
According to Selina, she was completely unlikeable. “You know her well?”
“Very. She was my chaperone when we were meeting at Hatchard’s.”
Rafe let out a sharp laugh. “She was terrible.”
Anne grinned. “Thankfully. Else, we would not have met.”
Rafe supposed he should be grateful, then, for meeting Anne and sharing those afternoons was the most wonderful thing in his recent memory.
“Still, she can be horrendous. She thought you should let her father keep the title.” Anne rolled her eyes.
“Does she have any redeeming qualities?”
“She can be helpful. She’s gone to great lengths to be supportive after my wedding that didn’t happen.”
“As she should,” Rafe muttered. The thought of Anne marrying that scoundrel still ate at him. Or maybe it was the idea that he’d almost lost her. For a woman he was trying not to be friends with, she’d come to mean a great deal to him. “I doubt she will be so supportive of me, however.”
“Probably not.” Anne clasped her hands in her lap, and Rafe could suddenly feel them on him—as she stroked his jaw or rested her palm against his chest. “But there will be plenty who will, including me and Jane and Anthony. I will be at the dinner on Monday at your sister’s house.”
He blinked in surprise. “You will?”
“My godfather asked me to come. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” In fact, he was glad to have someone else present who supported him.