Page 33 of The Earl She Once Saved

Celestine smiled sadly. “Then those dreadful speculations of his. Such losses. One heard your mother’s fortune was involved as well.”

That was the sound of blade beneath the silk.

Rafe looked at Verity. She had gone utterly still. He remembered her yesterday.

I thought a title would make you safe.

Her face now revealed nothing.

When she spoke, her voice was mild. “How kind of the county to have kept so accurate an account of my misfortunes.”

Celestine blinked. “I only meant—”

“I know precisely what you meant.”

“Verity,” her aunt murmured.

Verity set down her embroidery. “And you are quite right, Miss Marchmont. People can be unkind where there is uncertainty.”

Celestine colored. “I should hate you to think—”

“Not at all.” Verity smiled, but it was a dangerous smile. “In fact, you have persuaded me.”

Celestine stared. “Persuaded you?”

“To attend.”

Silence followed, shocking everyone gathered. Verity’s aunt nearly dropped her cup. Rafe looked at Verity. She did not look back.

Celestine recovered first, clapping her hands together. “How wonderful.”

“Is it?”

“Of course. Everyone will be delighted.”

“I am certain the whole county will be delighted to dissect me personally ,” Verity supplied dryly.

“Verity.” Her aunt sounded half horrified.

Rafe lowered his gaze before anyone noticed the movement at the corner of his mouth.

Celestine turned to him quickly. “Then you must come, too.”

Rafe looked up. “I must?”

“Certainly. It will do everyone good to see a Thornlow at Edgeworth again.”

Something about the sentence made him dislike it.

Celestine leaned nearer. “The master in the Earl’s place.”

Rafe’s gaze went immediately to Verity. She was already looking at him. He could not read her expression. Anger should have been there. He knew that expression. Pride, too. He knew that better. This was neither. This was something wounded and guarded so quickly that he was not sure he had seen it at all.

Master in the Earl’s place.

It was said as though Rafe’s arrival had corrected the estate, as though Verity’s years of holding it together amounted only to an inconvenient intermission between Thornlow men.

He thought of Tom Hartley asking her to protect his family, of laborers obeying her in the flooded meadow, of villagers touching their caps to her before they acknowledged him. If they meant to welcome him as Thornlow’s salvation, they would first be made to reckon with the woman who had actually saved it.