Page 27 of Souvenir of Love

Rafe shrugged. “Then it’s to be hoped you’ve found a passable physician to attend us.”

“Better than passable, the finest surgeon in London.”

“Very good. And there are some papers I’d like you to look over, as well.”

“What sort of papers?” Cole asked.

“I’ve made you executor of my will.”

“Haven’t you some Harcrest relative who’d be better suited?”

“I can see you’re honored,” Rafe said dryly.

“I am, Moreham, indeed, I am, but your business dealings are, how shall I put this, rather complex?”

“Afraid to soil your hands with work, Davenport?”

“That’s not it, and you know it. I respect what you’ve done, Moreham, respect it a great deal. I’d feel dreadful if I ran it all into the ground. I’ve not got the sharpest head for business, you know. Haven’t got your patience for long-range planning.”

“Not to worry, my friend,” Rafe replied. “I’ve made arrangements for the business. It’s my family I’d like you to keep an eye on. Louisa and Elizabeth?—”

“Elizabeth?Upon further reflection, I might have better luck overseeing the Byzantine workings of your financial empire?—”

“Nevertheless,” Rafe continued, “if anything happens to me, I’m entrusting you with the guardianship of Elizabeth, Alix, and the babe.”

“Elizabeth iswith child?”

“Davenport.” Rafe shook his head. “Don’t make me challenge you to a duel as well. My sister’s virtue is intact.”

“Then what…then who?” He stared at Rafe as awareness dawned. “You’re going to be a father!”

Rafe smiled, his first genuine smile since the night of the Dinsmores’ assembly.

“Damn it all, man, you should have told me sooner.” Cole raised his glass. “To your health and to Alix’s.” He took a swallow of ale and raised his glass for another toast. And then he paused. “Moreham, if Alix is carrying your child, perhaps it might be better if you reconsidered your challenge to Dinsmore.”

“Do you think I will lose?”

“I think if Elizabeth married…”

“To James Dinsmore?” Rafe made no effort to conceal his disgust.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen…”

“Icannot imagine anything worse.”

Ten

James ordered the footmen to collect mirrors and bring them up to the empty room that had once served as the Dinsmores’ nursery. The furniture had long ago been sold as a sop to the omnipresent creditors. He now stood before their reflections, critically assessing the position of his hands and his feet. He lunged, over and over, until the movement was as fluid as a dancer’s.

There was a time when he’d fenced every day.

In his early twenties, he’d developed a taste for other men’s wives, and thought it prudent to keep his sword and his skills sharp. And indeed, there’d been a few discreet duels. James saluted himself in the mirror and lunged. Though he’d found that most men preferred not to risk life, or at least limb, to salvage the already sunken reputations of their wives.

James parried up, over, and then down, frowning at a weakness he perceived in his grip. He adjusted his hand. Rafe Harcrest, Earl of Moreham, it appeared, was cut from a different sort of cloth.Cut…from a different cloth.It was an odd choice of words. He’d heard the queerest rumor that Moreham had refurbished his fortune by importing textiles from France. Not just investing, as proper gentlemen might, but setting up abusiness and overseeing it himself. Anne had dismissed the rumors, but then, she would have had to. His sister would never have considered marrying the earl if he’d truly soiled his aristocratic hands with trade.

James parried low. When he’d first heard the rumors, he’d felt a glimmer of admiration for Moreham. The man hadn’t taken the standard course of action, hadn’t sought to marry money, or win it at the gaming tables, or set his family heirlooms on the block. He glanced distastefully at the mirrors. In reflections he could see the emptiness of the room from every angle. And in the center of the room, in the center of every mirror, was the reflection of an even emptier man.

Perhaps he should allow Rafe Harcrest to kill him. He’d meant what he’d said to Anne; it might be the best thing for everyone involved. Rafe would have his satisfaction, Elizabeth would have her honor restored, Anne would have the sympathy of the ton, and he’d simply have an end to things. No more worrying about his father’s madness or whether it would become his own. No more wondering about when or if he’d inherit the title and what pathetic little of the Dinsmore fortune would remain when the old man died. No more fretting about Anne, nor wondering how to protect her from the petty cruelties of the ton. A bitter smile twisted his handsome face; he had to admit, he wasn’t certain that it was his sister who needed protecting.