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“Perhaps, but you were the one taking on all the risk, Sylvia. Can’t you see that?” Rafe put his hands on his hips. “I know the world is changing. I know that women are taking to the streets, demanding their fair share, and I hope to God they get it, but he still had a responsibility to look out for you. And not because he’s a man,” he said over her objection. “But because that is what you do when youcarefor someone.”
A part of Sylvia knew that what he said made perfect sense. Hadn’t she had the very same thoughts? But all she felt now was that old, raw shame, exposed for him to see. And to judge. Just as everyone else had. She could still recall the disappointment in the faces of so many people. People she had considered friends. Allies. Mentors. But worst of all was the blank space when she thought of Bernard. She didn’t know what his reaction to her arrest had been because he had never bothered to formally end things between them. He simply hadn’t appeared when she needed him most. But his absence spoke for him. Loudly.
“Fine. He didn’t love me enough. Is that what you want me to say? Is it so important for you to be right about this? I wasn’t worth the risk,” she insisted, her body tensing more and more with every word. “I wasn’t worth losing his father’s approval, or his inheritance, or his bloody social standing.”
Rafe’s face paled. “Christ. I didn’t mean––”
“And yes, you’re absolutely right that I was taking on all the risk. Trust me, I paid for it dearly. I lost everything I had earned myself. My stupid little London life that I had been so proud of all fell apart because of him.”
Rafe stood there in silence. He looked like someone had slapped him.
“But that’s not the worst of it,” she continued. “He still bought that house, you know. He still hosts gatherings and publishes articles using the wordsIwrote. The ideaswediscussed. He is living the life we planned with someone else. Someone with an acceptable pedigree who was content to be his wife and have his babies and didn’t demand to be a part of his work. To be his equal.” Sylvia then paused before voicing the one thing no one, not even Georgiana, knew. “And do you know what the worst part of it is? I think he’s happier,” she whispered. “Happier without me.”
To her utter horror, her eyes had filled with tears. She angrily began to wipe them away until Rafe gently smoothed his thumbs against her cheeks, collecting the moisture that had gathered there. Through her haze Sylvia managed to register the feel of his bare hands. At some point he had removed his gloves. They were rougher than she imagined. Nearly as rough as Brodie’s. But how? He was a pampered gentleman. She was so distracted by this discovery that she nearly missed his words.
“He isn’t.”
“What?”
Rafe tilted her chin up. “He may feel safer or more in control, but he isn’t happier. Most likely he’s bored, or soon will be.”
She tried to shake her head. Tried to deny his words. “You’ve never even met him. You can’t possibly know that.”
But Rafe held fast. “No, but I’ve met you. And I know men. So I feel quite certain when I say that there is no damnedchancehe is happier without you.” She inhaled sharply at the unexpected thrill of his curse, but he didn’t stop. “You threatened some part of him, Sylvia. Some part that he won’t let go of. And that must have scared the hell out of him. As I said before, he’s a coward, so he took the coward’s way out. I’m sure his wife is perfectly fine, but she isn’t you.”
Somehow Sylvia was breathing even harder than before. Never, never could she imagine someone else saying such things to her. And with such conviction.
“Don’t ever think for one second that you aren’t worth the risk,” he continued. “You deserve someone who not only takes it, but someone who loves you all the more for it.”
Her heart stopped. Had he actuallysaidthat? It should be ridiculous. And yet it felt…true.
Understanding seemed to dawn on Rafe at the same moment and he stepped back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” He let out a surprised laugh and pulled a hand through his hair, disturbing the usually perfect strands.
Oh God. I’ve said far too much. We both have.
Rafe glanced at her, and the regret must have been etched on her face. “No, please don’t look like that.” He pressed his palms against her arms. “I think you’re incredibly brave.”
Sylvia wasn’t sure she could take any more of his admiration. She wasn’t brave. She had been an idiot. “But you understand my—my concerns. Regarding us.”
“Actually, I’m more concerned that if I ever meet this fellow I won’t be able to keep from thrashing him in the street.” He gave her a small smile. “Thank you for being so honest. I only wish…I wish I could do the same.”
Sylvia frowned. “That isn’t necessary.” She certainly didn’t want to hear about his no doubtextensiveaffairs.
Rafe looked at her sadly. “Maybe not at the moment, no.”
She ignored the cryptic comment. Let him keep his secrets. “I’ve revealed a great deal to you today. I appreciate your understanding, and your discretion. The viscountess knows all of this, but not Mrs. Crawford. And you may feel differently about me once you’ve thought it over.”
Rafe shook his head. “I’m sorry that man ever gave you a reason to doubt yourself. But I’m not like him. I can promise you that, at least. And I won’t ever say a word to Mrs. Crawford. Your personal life is not anyone’s business.”
The invisible wall inside her crumbled a little more. “Thank you.”
He then set a gentle kiss against her lips. The sweetness of it curled around Sylvia’s heart, and she drew her arms around his neck. This man seemed to have a hundred different sides to him.
And, Lord help her, she wanted to know every one.
Chapter Twelve
At Rafe’s urging, Sylvia left soon afterward with vague plans to talk again after the ball. The longer they were together, the greater the chance they would be caught. That she had a past lover wasn’t entirely surprising, but to hear of how she had been treated, and how she saw herself as a result, had inspired an unholy rage within him. For a man who prided himself on his ability to shake off the more trivial annoyances of life, it had been a touch concerning just how swiftly, and deeply, this anger had come on. But then, this was Sylvia. He had feelings for her. Feelings that were still a bit baffling to him—not that she could inspire them in the first place but that he had become so quickly, and completely, enamored.
