“Yes, we’ve met. I’m looking forward to his ball on Saturday. I’ve long wanted to see Brixton Park, the maze in particular.” He darted a look at Anne, noting that she smiled mischievously when he mentioned the maze. “Will you be there?”
“I will now.” She gave him a look of seductive promise that made him wish it was Saturday night. “I’ve been mostly avoiding Society events, but now that we’re betrothed, I don’t have to fear being bothered by gentlemen looking for a wife.” She squeezed his arm gently. “And you don’t have to worry about anyone looking to snare you in the parson’s trap now that everyone will know you’re about to become an earl.”
He found it fascinating, and galling, that without the title, he was somehow less attractive, particularly because he was in trade, a fact he hadn’t tried to hide. People already knew he owned a pleasure garden in Clerkenwell—he’d met Selina’s sister-in-law there before she and Harry had wed. But did he want them to know he also owned a bookshop and, as of very recently, a publishing venture? He had many investments, but presumably other peers did too. “I think I need to go to earl school,” he murmured.
“What’s that?” Anne asked, leaning closer. “Did you say earl school?”
“I did.”
She laughed softly. “Hopefully, my godfather will handle that. You can start on Thursday evening.”
Rafe’s good mood faltered. He would no sooner take advice or direction from his uncle than he would from the lord of hell.
A few minutes later, they entered the park through the Grosvenor Gate. The afternoon was bright and warm, and the park was positively teeming with Society’s finest. Rafe began to doubt the wisdom of coming here today of all days. The day he’d submitted his claim to the earldom of Stone.
Just inside, they met the Marquess and Marchioness of Ripley. He was a dark-haired, easygoing gentleman with a somewhat rakish reputation. Until he’d fallen completely and unabashedly in love with his wife, one of the founding members of the Spitfire Society. Like Anne’s sister, Phoebe had also come close to marrying. But in her situation, she’d left her groom at the altar. Anne had told him it was because she couldn’t bring herself to marry him.
“Afternoon, Mallory,” Ripley said. “Or should I say Stone?” He grinned good-naturedly. “I’m sure you’ve quite a story to share. The Lords was abuzz today with the news—and with speculation.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Rafe said blandly. “My sister and I were kidnapped and only recently learned our true identities.”
Ripley cracked a half smile. “I don’t believe that for a moment, but I won’t bother you for the details. Know that I’m happy to hear them if you ever want to share, but it isn’t important. Are you ready to take on the duties of the earldom?”
“Ripley sits on the Committee for Privileges,” Colton said.
Shit. Rafe hadn’t known that. He should have asked Harry for a list so he could be informed. Not that he cared about making an impression. He hated being caught unaware.
“Yes,” Rafe said, answering the marquess’s question. “I am eager to reclaim my birthright.” As if it could wipe away the past twenty-seven years. Nothing ever could.
Ripley assessed him with a sympathetic stare. “I can only imagine how that must feel. I’m just glad you’ve discovered who you are, who you’re meant to be.”
Rafe sensed the man’s words were genuine. “Thank you.”
“Shall we walk?” Lady Ripley asked with a smile.
“Yes,” Anne answered, clutching Rafe’s arm more tightly as they set out toward Cumberland Gate. They took up the rear as Ripley and his wife talked with Anne’s sister and Colton.
People standing off the path covertly watched them as they walked by. Some of them whispered. “Everyone is staring,” Anne murmured.
“I expected that.”
“And they don’t even know we’re betrothed—that would have been enough. Does it bother you?”
“Not particularly.” He could ignore it. As a lieutenant to Samuel Partridge in London’s East End, Rafe had been a sort of neighborhood royalty. People had watched him as he walked past or treated him with deference. Women tried to catch his eye, and men worked to earn his respect and favor.
“Good afternoon!” Lady Satterfield greeted them from next to the path. “Miss Pemberton, how lovely to see you out.”
“Allow me to introduce Mr. Mallory,” Anne said. “Rafe, this is Lady Satterfield. She is a member of the Spitfire Society.”
Rafe bowed his head. Selina had mentioned the countess, indicating she was a kind and generous person. She was also very well respected in Society, and her stepson was the much-revered Duke of Kendal. Rafe wondered if he was also on the Committee for Privileges. From what he understood, the duke was a powerful figure in the Lords.
The countess, who was perhaps in her late fifties, smiled warmly at him. “You’re soon to be declared the Earl of Stone, I hear. I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance. I knew your parents. They were absolutely wonderful people.”
She stood with two other women, who stared at him with excited interest. Lady Satterfield introduced them as Lady Exeby and Mrs. Childers.
Rafe ignored them in favor of hearing more about his parents. “I’m always pleased to meet someone who knew them. I barely remember them.”
Lady Satterfield’s eyes creased with sympathy. “I’ve met your sister on several occasions. Your mother would be so proud of her commitment to charitable works.”
“Which sister is that?” Mrs. Childers asked.
“Lady Selina Sheffield,” Lady Satterfield replied.
“Lady Rockbourne isn’t really his sister,” Lady Exeby muttered while trying to smile.
“Yes, Rafe is shortly to become the Earl of Stone, and I will be his countess,” Anne said with more volume than was necessary. Enough volume that people nearby turned their heads.
Rafe stared at her, his heart pounding. Now their betrothal was public. She couldn’t withdraw without causing a scandal. A sense of relief flashed through him along with a jolt of self-derision. She no longer had the choice she deserved when she learned the truth about him. And damn him, it seemed he’d unconsciously wanted that. He was a selfish, coldhearted blackguard, and he was afraid of losing her.
Lady Satterfield’s eyes lit with joy. “You’re betrothed?”
Anne gave his arm another squeeze. “Yes.”
“How wonderful. I’m so happy for you both.”
Lady Exeby and Mrs. Childers’ eyes rounded briefly. “Such happy news,” one of them said. Rafe couldn’t remember who was whom.
“A shame you didn’t give anyone else a chance on the Marriage Mart,” the other added with a laugh.
“I didn’t need to. Miss Pemberton is everything I could want in a countess. If you’ll excuse us, we will continue on.” He inclined his head before escorting Anne away, his pulse uneven.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I blurted that out after Lady Exeby mentioned Beatrix. And I told my godfather earlier.”
Rafe tensed more than he already was, his neck and shoulder blades tightening. “What did he say?”