Page 91 of The Earl She Once Saved

“The game is finished anyway,” he announced. “I must ride to Ripon.”

Verity turned. Every trace of laughter vanished.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“But … you are not well enough.”

“I shall ride slowly.”

Her eyes searched his face. The wind moved softly through the wet leaves. Verity folded her arms, as though against a sudden cold.

“What will you say?” she asked instead.

“That he is not to come to Edgeworth.”

“And do you think he will obey you?”

“No.”

The answer made her flinch. Rafe wished he could offer something gentler, but he could not lie to her.

Her gaze held his. “I still have to try.”

“Be careful,” she said.

The words were barely audible. Rafe felt them like her hand upon his.

***

There were not four inns in Ripon where Roland would consent to sleep. Rafe found him at the second.

The Crown occupied a broad stone building near the market square, with polished windows and a yard swept cleaner than most drawing rooms. Rafe left his horse with a boy and entered through the public door.

Roland was seated at the best table. He had chosen the chair nearest the fire and ordered enough food for three men. A bottle of claret stood open beside him.

He looked older. That was Rafe’s first thought. His brother’s hair had begun to gray at the temples, though the change only lent him distinction. His coat was cut in the latest style. The hand resting beside his glass still wore the Edgeworth signet.

Roland looked up. His smile came easily.

“Rafe.”

Rafe stopped beside the table. “Roland.”

His brother rose and opened his arms as though they had parted a month ago on affectionate terms. Rafe did not move. Roland let his hands fall.

“So. The soldier returns.”

“And the dead man with him.”

Roland’s smile thinned. “Sit.”

“I prefer to stand.”

“As you like.”

He resumed his chair and poured another glass of wine. He pushed it across the table. Rafe left it untouched.