Did she, though? The man who was about to lose everything—or nearly everything—was her godfather. How close was their relationship? “Do you think he should keep the title?” he asked. She’d rolled her eyes, but what did that mean?
“I don’t think it’s that simple. You are the rightful earl. It’s a terrible situation for everyone.” She smiled sadly. “You’ve been denied your very identity for nearly thirty years, and my godfather has spent that same amount of time living a life that didn’t really belong to him.”
She didn’t not support him. But she clearly sympathized with her godfather too.
He would do well to remember that. “We’ve changed the location of the dinner. I’ll be hosting it here.” Selina hadn’t wanted Deborah in her house, and Rafe didn’t blame her. “Harry is sending word to your godfather this afternoon.”
“Mr. Sheffield is a good friend to you. I’m glad.”
Yes, he was, and Rafe was still struggling to accept that. “Apparently, his father was a friend of my father’s.” He abruptly clenched his teeth together and pushed away the emotion that always seemed to be thundering just beneath the surface.
Anne rose and came to him, her brow creased. “I’m so sorry, Rafe,” she whispered. “This has to be so difficult. But isn’t there joy too? In knowing who you are?”
She was so close. He could wrap his arms around her and pull her against him, bury himself in her scent and softness, comfort himself in her care and tenderness. It was almost painful not to.
Oh, she was much more than a friend. That was absolutely terrifying.
“Joy? I don’t know.” That wasn’t an emotion he often felt. The happiest he’d been in the past four years was when he’d reunited with Selina. But even that had been eclipsed by the fact that he’d kept her away from him for far too long. “Perhaps I’m afraid of that,” he said quietly, his voice rasping.
He was also afraid of being the center of attention, of disappointing his parents, of not being the man he should be. How could he be, given how he was raised? How he’d spent almost the entirety of his life? As a criminal and a fraud. Yes, he could play the role of earl—he was so good at pretending. But this wasn’t a sham. This was real. This was who he was supposed to be.
What if he failed?
“Oh, Rafe.” She moved closer and put her palms against his cheeks. Her brow puckered, and she quickly stripped her gloves away, heedlessly dropping them to the floor. Her bare hands touched his face, and he lost himself in her gaze. “You deserve to feel happy.”
He didn’t believe that, not after the things he’d done. “You don’t know me,” he whispered.
“I’m trying to. I want to. How can I help? I want to be your friend—like Harry.”
Rafe smiled at that. “Please, not like Harry.”
She laughed softly and, standing on her toes, twined her arms around his neck, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Rafe lightly clasped her waist. That wasn’t natural. What felt natural would be to hold her tightly to him. He didn’t do that.
“You’re going to be very popular as soon as everyone hears about your claim.”
He winced. “I’m afraid of that most of all.”
“Are you?”
“I value my privacy.” He resisted the urge to move his hands to her back. “Besides, if I’m the center of attention, you can’t very well call on me anymore—even in the company of your sister on the pretense of asking about my charitable donations.”
She grinned. “Probably not. I’ll just have to find a way to avoid notice. I’m good at not getting caught. Speaking of that, if you postpone submitting your claim until Thursday, we can still go to Magazine Day on Wednesday. I’ve procured a man’s costume as you directed.”
“Have you now?” His hands slowly crept around her waist despite his best intentions. She was far too close, and he simply couldn’t resist. “I must admit I would appreciate just a few more days of anonymity.” Besides, Harry had dispatched a clerk to Stonehaven, and they planned to wait for the man’s report before moving forward. He would not return before Magazine Day. “How will you get away?”
She lifted a shoulder as she toyed with his shirt collar. “I’ll say I’m taking a nap. You can pick me up in the Grosvenor Street mews.”
“You’ve thought this through.”
“I have.” She gave him a shrewd stare. “I like to plan.”
“I do admire a strategic mind.” He admired everything about her, from her intelligence to her passion for trying and seeing new things. She seemed rather fearless, he realized, and that was incredibly intoxicating. “Are you afraid of anything?” he asked.
“Being alone.” She snapped her lips together in a slight frown. “I didn’t realize I was going to say that. In fact, I didn’t know I felt that way until this moment.”
“I can’t imagine you need to worry about that.” He splayed his palms against her lower back. “Won’t your sister suspect what you’re about? Since she brought you here today.”
“Perhaps.” She tipped her head from side to side. “Probably. I’m not much for taking naps, I’m afraid. It doesn’t matter—she won’t begrudge me, and she certainly won’t tell anyone.”
He laughed. “You have a good sister.”
Anne beamed up at him. “So do you. I like Selina very much.”
He did have a good sister. That morning, they’d traveled to the Croydon Parish Church and spoken to the vicar. He’d hadn’t known their “uncle,” Edgar Blackwell, but when Rafe had described their nurse, he’d said it sounded like one of his former parishioners—a Pauline Blaylock. Dark-haired with a beautiful voice, she’d left home to take a position as a nurse decades before. Her family had been proud that she’d gone to work for an earl.
Unfortunately, the Blaylock family had all died or moved far away from Croydon, with the exception of one person: Pauline’s younger sister. She was married to an innkeeper in Redhill. They hadn’t had time to travel farther south to visit her at the Golden Eagle today, but they would soon.
“What time should I be ready on Wednesday?” Anne asked.
Her question jolted him from his recollection of his trip to Croydon. “Ah, ten?”
“So early. For Society, but not for me. I’ll be ready.” She gave him a coy look and slipped her fingers into the hair at his nape. This was very similar to when she’d kissed him at the Chapter Coffee House. When he’d been swept away by his overwhelming attraction to her. It would be far too easy to allow that again…
He forced himself to take his hands from her and step back. “Are you certain this is wise?”
Her brow furrowed with disappointment. “Going to Magazine Day? I owe you an excursion since I missed our last one.”
She was clever. He’d give her that. And it wasn’t as if she was manipulating him. He knew precisely what he was doing, that agreeing to take her, hell, seeing her here and now, invited intimacy. At least the physical kind. He wasn’t capable of anything else. She needed to know that.