“I always do.”
The footman had returned to give Rafe his hat and gloves. Taking the accessories, Rafe departed the house, setting off toward Upper Brook Street the same way he’d arrived: on foot.
The evening was warm, perfect for trouble. In his youth, he would have spent a night like this thieving and fighting, earning one of the myriad nicks from his opponent’s knife as they fought bare-chested amidst the cheers of their comrades, the light of the moon, and the scent of cheap gin.
He crammed his hat on his head and shoved his gloves into his pocket. Perhaps he should go looking for such trouble tonight. It would be a simple thing to return to one of the neighborhoods where he’d been a prince, where men and women had flocked to his side, eager for his approval and leadership. He could get any one of them to end his uncle’s existence. Rafe wouldn’t even have to do it himself.
Killing was one crime he’d avoided at all costs. Except for the singular occasion when there had been no other option. When vengeance had been wholly necessary. Even now, four years later, he felt no regret.
Still, he wouldn’t do it again. Unless he was driven by another’s violence. Not to him, but to those he cared about. Selina. Anne.
Hadn’t that violence already happened? Mallory had murdered his parents. He deserved the same fate as the man who’d killed Eliza.
A righteous anger welled within him. He abruptly pivoted and stalked back the way he’d come, passing Colton’s house and ignoring the pull he felt toward Anne. Onward he kept until he reached Bond Street.
Perhaps he wasn’t really meant to be the earl. Perhaps he wasn’t worthy.
Hailing a hack, he directed the driver to the only place he’d ever belonged. In the rookeries of East London, no one found him lacking.
There, he could be anything he wanted. He’d just do it alone.
Chapter 15
“You ride as if you were born on a horse,” the Viscount Northwood, Harry’s older-by-five-minutes twin brother, said as they walked their mounts from Green Park. “And this is only our second lesson. It’s nauseating, if you must know.”
“Thank you?” Rafe allowed himself to smile.
When Harry had suggested his brother teach him to ride, Rafe had bristled at first. But then he’d surrendered to sense. He should ride a bloody horse. Not just because he was going to be an earl, but because his father had wanted him to. His father had loved horses and planned to breed them at Stonehaven. Rafe was perhaps a ways off from doing that, but when he let himself look to the future—hopefully someday soon—he wanted to pursue his father’s plans.
“Are you ready to tell me what happened at the dinner last night?” North, what nearly everyone called him, looked at him askance as they rode through Berkeley Square.
Rafe hoped he looked accomplished enough on the horse so as not to draw notice. At least, no more than he was already receiving by currently being the most notorious man in London. He tugged his hat lower over his brow.
Rafe had told North about the dinner on Wednesday before their first lesson. When they’d set out earlier, North had inquired about it, but Rafe had avoided the question.
“Not particularly, but you’ll learn soon enough. My uncle is contesting my claim. He’s using my past as an orphan in East London who had to steal to survive as proof that I’m not up to the task.”
“Filthy whoreson.” North gave his head a shake. “I’m sorry to hear it. I’m sure you’ll prevail. No one is questioning your identity. The title is yours.”
“It will be.”
A short time later, they rode into the Mount Street mews. North kept his horse at his father’s stable, and Rafe was borrowing the earl’s horse until he went to Tattersall’s to purchase his own.
As he dismounted, Rafe winced due to a sharp pain on the right side of his chest. He’d found the knife fight he’d been looking for last night.
As they handed their horses over to a pair of grooms, North’s father, the Earl of Aylesbury, arrived in his coach. Stepping down from the vehicle, he blinked in surprise at Rafe. “Afternoon, Mallory. I was just thinking about you.” His brow was deeply furrowed. Whatever his thoughts, they hadn’t been good.
“You’re just from Westminster?” North asked.
Aylesbury nodded. He eyed Rafe warily.
“I know you sit on the Committee for Privileges,” Rafe said. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to ask you about my claim or my uncle’s counter claim. Did you receive that today?”
“A short while ago. The attorney general delivered it rather quickly since we were already taking up discussion of your claim.” Aylesbury was taller than average, with a somewhat youthful appearance despite being in his later fifties. His brown hair was partially gray, making it appear light, while his eyes were a dark coffee brown. He stepped to the side so the grooms could take care of the vehicle and horses, gesturing for North and Rafe to accompany him.
“I don’t feel as if I’m speaking out of turn to tell you there are some who are alarmed by the revelations in your uncle’s counter claim. They plan to ask you to answer questions before the committee.” He grimaced. “Is any of it true?”
“I haven’t read it, so I can’t say for certain. I believe he accuses me of having been a criminal?”
“Yes. A thief, a fence, and an illegal moneylender.”
Rafe held his head high and kept his spine stiff. “All of that is true.”
“Hell,” the earl breathed, looking to the side. When he returned his attention to Rafe, his gaze had darkened. “Then your uncle may very well retain the title.”
The injustice of it, given what Mallory had already gotten away with, made Rafe clench his hands into fists. “He murdered my parents. That fire was his doing. He wanted the earldom and was willing to kill my father—and me—to do it. My nurse decided she couldn’t let me die, so she and her brother kidnapped me and my sister.”
As he spoke, the earl’s and North’s eyes widened.
“Does Harry know this?” North asked.
“Yes. He’s been investigating the crimes. Unfortunately, we have not been able to find proof of my uncle’s involvement.” A horrible, scratchy heat climbed Rafe’s back and settled at his nape, making him perspire.
Aylesbury scrutinized him. “How do you know he was to blame? Don’t think I’m doubting you. If Harry is helping you, I trust you are right.”
“Selina and I spoke to our nurse recently. She was quite ill and has since expired, so she is unable to provide testimony.”
North put his hands on his hips, his tawny eyes narrowing with frustration. “Well, that’s bloody inconvenient.”
“She spoke specifically about my uncle’s plan to have the fire kill my father and me so he could inherit the earldom. He didn’t want my mother or Selina to die, apparently.” When he thought of his mother trying to save his father and dying in the process, he wanted to rage at anyone who could support Mallory’s position.
Aylesbury stared past Rafe and let out a low sound. “That…makes sense.” He looked at Rafe and hesitated.
Rafe’s skin pricked with foreboding. “What?”