But what a miserable life it would be. “I’d rather you’d kill me.”
“That can be arranged.”
Geoffrey saw the hard coldness in Rafe Easton’s eyes. Yes, he thought, he could arrange it. But it wasn’t what Geoffrey truly wanted. He would find a club willing to take him in. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would find a way out of this mess. Dipping pen in inkwell, he signed every document, then watched as Easton gathered them up and slipped them into a satchel.
“You missed an opportunity, Wortham, to claim a wonderful woman as your sister. You sought to take everything that matters away from her. It seemed only fitting that I take all that matters away from you. Leave London before the sun rises or you’ll find yourself in debtor’s prison.”
“But I just paid my debt to you.”
“No, you paid the debt you owed Evelyn. Your debt to me remains open, my lord, and as I am now in possession of the markers you signed to Dimmick, your debt is considerable.”
When Rafe Easton left, Wortham placed his head in his hands and wept for all he had lost, for the lonely life that would stretch out before him.
Chapter 22
Studying his reflection in the mirror, Rafe tugged on his light gray waistcoat. It took an inordinate amount of time to dress these days. His hand had healed but the mobility in it wasn’t what it had once been. Dr. Graves had set the bones together as best as he could. Rafe was grateful for that, at least. He hadn’t lost his hand completely. And he was learning to write with his right.
In retrospect, he supposed he could have told Dimmick from the outset that he was left-handed, so he would have broken the right, but he was familiar enough with the man’s tortuous ways to know that a time would come when he would have signed anything the man put before him in order to stop the pain. And he’d be damned before he gave the man anything that belonged to Evie—or to Mick for that matter.
So damned he was.
But not as much as Dimmick.
During the three months since his rescue, Rafe found himself spending more time with his brothers, and he wondered why he had resisted being in their company for so long. Late into the night, they would drink Scotch and share stories from the years they were apart. Rafe liked hearing about all the various places Tristan had visited, the different people he’d met, the cultures he’d encountered. Sebastian’s stories were less entertaining and more reluctantly recounted, but they gave Rafe a view of war that made him appreciate his brother’s bravery and sacrifice more than he might have otherwise.
He held out his arms as his valet helped him into his black morning coat. “Did you see that the gift was delivered to Miss Chambers?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Rafe no longer grimaced when his servants here or those who worked for him at the club addressed him as such. He was the son of a duke, the brother of a duke. He was proud to claim his family heritage, his birthright. Besides, he wanted there to be no doubt that Miss Evelyn Chambers, illegitimate daughter of an earl, was marrying a lord.
The very wealthy lord of a very powerful family.
Mary had insisted that Eve continue to live with them until the wedding. It had never occurred to Rafe that Evie had found sanctuary next door. It was the last place he would have looked for her. And she’d known it. At the time, he’d never have gone over there willingly.
Unlike now, when he went every day. He courted Evie as she should have been courted all along. With flowers, books of poetry, and chocolate. He escorted her on rides through the parks, danced with her at balls, dined with her every evening. He had much to make up for, and he was looking forward to spending the remainder of his life ensuring that she never regretted, not for a single second, that she became his wife.
Evelyn stared at her reflection in the cheval glass, hardly able to believe the beautiful handwork on the pearl-beaded ivory gown she wore. No quiet wedding in a country church, no secreting away. In two hours she was to be married at St. George’s, and all of London had been invited.
Except Geoffrey, as he was no longer in London but had returned to the family estate—after signing over all the properties that were not entailed. She suspected Rafe might have been responsible for that, but when she asked him about it, he said only, “He’s keeping the promise he made to your father.”
As she had no use for another residence in London, she was going to convert it into a sanctuary for unfortunate women, a place where they could acquire skills so they wouldn’t be dependent upon the kindness of strangers.
“You look lovely,” Mary said, standing near Anne.
Evelyn turned to face the two women who would soon become her sisters by marriage. “It seems I should be nervous but I’m not.”
“Because you know that you’re marrying a man who loves you,” Anne said.
“Yes, he does rather, I think.”
A slight rap sounded on the door. Mary opened it and retrieved a small package from the servant. She held it out to Evelyn. “For you. From Rafe.”
She took it and walked over to the window for a bit of privacy. Sunlight streamed in through the glass. It was going to be a beautiful day.
She opened the note that had been tucked beneath the ribbon. She read the uneven awkward scrawl, and knew it had been written with a great deal of effort.
Something I hope you dearly will not need today.
