But she would do what she must to keep Lily safe, even if that meant destroying herself in the process.

  She had been torn last night, half afraid that Roarke was going to kiss her—and completely hopeful that he would. After he’d pulled away, not only had she felt guilty, but she’d felt cold and more alone than she had since leaving Eversleigh Hall all those years ago. It was so much easier to close herself off from Roarke when he was acting the brooding, scorned male, as opposed to when he was sympathetic and caring…

  Sometimes the look in his eyes was filled with a mixture of emotions: warmth, nostalgia, and yes, even a spark of something else…something deeper.

  It was during those moments when she had to clamp her lips together, for those three damning words she yearned to say came perilously close to spilling forth.

  It had been ages since she had allowed herself to bring to mind anything relating to her past, finding that any recollection of her previous life with Roarke was just too difficult to bear. But since she had been catching up with Lyra about old times, the memories were steadily creeping up on her—the bad as well as the good.

  Being around Roarke in the flesh once more, when he spoke to her in civil tones, she realized that their former camaraderie was just as strong as ever.

  She’d forgotten how easy he was to talk to. Back then, they used to spend hours conversing about nothing in particular, but always finding something to say, and when a silence did descend, it wasn’t awkward or forced. They had always had a special, unique kinship, regardless of their differences in class and position. There was a mutual respect that had blossomed into something far more than just physical desire and friendship.

  She still felt it.

  But unfortunately, such emotions were dangerous. To unearth them now would bring certain disaster.

  And that terrified her.

  Unfortunately, until Bentley was located, she would be forced to rely on Roarke’s hospitality a bit longer. She wanted to be close at hand the moment information arrived, and she knew that going anywhere else wasn’t an option at the moment, for she had nowhere to go. The fire had made sure of that.

  Nevertheless, she had to head back to her shop as soon as possible. She needed to find them a new place to live, and without Big B’s winnings, things would become even more complicated without some sort of income to survive on. With that in mind, Mara donned a light blue day dress, another gift from Lyra, and intended to set out to do just that, but fate obviously had other plans, for the moment she opened her chamber door, a footman was on the other side, his hand poised to knock.

  Appearing as taken aback as she was, the footman cleared his throat and quickly recovered his composure, “Lady Rockford is here to see you, miss.”

  Athena was here? Mara hesitated only a moment before she murmured her thanks, whereas the servant mentioned that he’d put the countess in the front parlor, before bowing and taking his leave. Putting a hand to her pounding heart, she realized she hadn’t spoken with Athena since that day at the haberdashery when her perfidy had been revealed.

  Suddenly she was rather wary of what the woman might have to say to her. Would she withdraw her offer of friendship? Berate her for her deception?

  Without daring to delay Lady Rockford any longer, Mara went downstairs, and after a quick glance in the foyer mirror to make sure she looked as presentable as possible she lifted her chin and strode into the parlor. In the end, all of Mara’s reservations were for naught, for when Athena turned at her entrance, the countess looked just as uncertain of her reception. “I hope you don’t think me too forward to call upon you,” Athena began slowly. “I just wanted to see how you were faring after…everything.”

  “Thank you, my lady. Rest assured, Lord Eversleigh has been most kind,” Mara said, and Athena’s shoulders slumped slightly as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Lady Rockford offered a friendly smile. “I understand Lady Weston is also in residence?” At Mara’s nod to the affirmative, Athena added, “While Lyra and I haven’t been acquaintances for long, Lord Eversleigh and my husband are good friends. Do you think she would mind if I called upon her to ask after her welfare?”

  “I think Lyra would like that very much,” Mara said sincerely, “Perhaps between the two of us we can coax her out of her room.”

  “I will certainly do what I can to help.” Athena bit her lower lip uncertainly before she blurted out, “I’m sorry that I caused so much trouble for you before, Miss Sm…er…Miller. After all you did to help me, if I would have but known—”

  Mara felt a smile tug at her lips. It was obvious she had judged Athena too harshly. While she had recently wed a peer of the realm, her indecision gave credence to the fact she was still tentative about her new role as a confident lady of the ton. Reaching out, she took the countess’s hands in her own. “Please, think no more on the matter. My deception was bound to come to light at some point once Roarke had returned to London. I do not fault you in any way. Whatever difficulties I am presented with now are my burden and mine alone.”

  Lady Rockford gave a shuddering sigh as if she were perilously close to tears. When she raised her blue eyes, they glistened with emotion. “You are too forgiving. You don’t know how concerned I’ve been over the entire matter.”

  “Don’t ever doubt that you are one of my dearest friends.” On impulse, Mara reached out and gave Athena a hug.

  “Thank you.” Athena brushed away a tear. “Oh, just look at me. This pregnancy has turned me into a veritable watering pot.”

  Mara gasped. “I had no idea you were expecting! Congratulations!”

  “Again, thank you.” Lady Rockford smiled before she turned serious once again. “I know you don’t want to hear this again, but just remember that my previous offer still stands if you have need of it.”

  Mara’s first instinct was to refuse, but so many things had changed since that day at her shop when she was still playing the part of Miss Anna Smith, and Roarke was happily oblivious of her treachery. In the end, she murmured, “Let us hope my current situation doesn’t come to that.” Looping her arm through Athena’s, she brightened, “Shall we pay our respects to Lady Weston now?”

  Roarke wasn’t surprised when he returned to Mara’s chamber through the connecting door that evening, and she didn’t even glance up at his entrance, although he knew she was aware of his presence. Curled up in the wingback chair by the fireplace, she was reading the Ladies Companion of all things. “Have you actually read any of this ridiculous book?” Mara shook her blonde head as she tossed the slim volume aside and crossed her arms. “If you truly expect me to believe a single thing written in there, I fear you are doomed to disappointment.”

  Roarke felt the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. He’d been apprehensive about how to approach Mara after last evening’s disaster, but apparently his concern was for naught. With his hands in his trouser pockets, he shrugged nonchalantly. Knowing he was going to get a rise out of her, he kept his tone perfectly bland when he asked, “You don’t find it beneficial?”

  Mara’s mouth fell open. “Not in the least! It’s nothing but twaddle and if you think for one minute—” she stopped abruptly, only then realizing that his hazel eyes were twinkling merrily. “You are an absolute beast, do you know that?”

  “I have been told that on occasion. Rather recently, in fact.” Roarke smiled, recalling Lyra’s accusation.

  Mara rolled her eyes before she finally took note of his attire. “Aren’t you a bit overdressed for a night in?”

  He glanced down at his formal wear. Dressed in contrasting black and white, Roarke decided that he liked the simplicity of the style, and he could certainly appreciate something that didn’t involve yellow or pink embroidery. “Actually, I was on my way out.”

  “Oh.” For some reason, this seemed to surprise her, but she recovered quickly enough. “I see. Well…have a good time then.”

  Again, his mouth twitched. “I’m only going to White’s for a bit. You’d be surprised at the amount of gossip one can pick up from a bunch of inebriated aristocrats who gossip as much as their servants.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t matter to me where you go.” Mara crossed her arms defiantly, though by the way her shoulders eased some of their tension, she was more relieved at this news than she wanted to acknowledge.

  Still as prickly as ever.

  Remembering that patience was key in drawing her out of her shell, even if he might be sacrificing his sanity in the interim, Roarke shook his head before he noticed a sketchpad tucked into the chair beside her feet. Gesturing to it, he took a step closer. “What are you working on there?”

  Mara hesitated before she drew the pad forward and handed it to him without a word.

  Taking a seat across from her, he glanced at the rough sketch. “Is that Rufus?” He asked with a surprised lift of his brows.

  “It’s supposed to be,” Mara grimaced. “I was trying to draw his likeness, at least what I could remember of him.”

  Rufus had been a stray dog that had strolled onto Eversleigh land one day, not long after Mara and her father had moved there, and he remained there from that day on. Sadly, he’d died nearly two weeks after her father, shortly after Roarke had gone back to school after Christmas. While old age had undoubtedly been a factor for the mutt, for he was in rough shape when he’d arrived, Roarke wondered if it hadn’t been pure heartbreak that had put Rufus in his grave from losing his devoted master.

  “Jack thought a lot of that ruffian,” Roarke noted fondly.

  “They thought a lot of each other,” Mara amended with a light smile. “Originally Rufus was supposed to be my dog, but somehow my father came to adopt him.”

  Roarke grinned. “Or perhaps it was the other way around, and Rufus adopted Jack.”

  “That’s a definite possibility,” Mara laughed.

  “They were certainly inseparable.”

  Just like us. Roarke wondered if he might have unknowingly spoken the words aloud for she instantly sobered, but perhaps she was merely thinking along the same lines. However, wishing to keep the subject in neutral territory, he brought up the one thing they could both agree on. “Lyra informed me that she had a pleasant visit with you and Lady Rockford today. I’m just sorry you weren’t able to coax her downstairs. She seems determined to shut herself off from the world, no matter how much I try.” Mara’s brow puckered slightly. “She’s had a difficult time of it, but I will keep trying to encourage her.”

  “I would appreciate that,” Roarke said in all honesty before his mouth turned down at the corners.

  “I worry about her. You don’t want to know what’s being said regarding Roger’s demise.”

  “I know there’s always some sort of nasty gossip, but no one is trying to accuse Lyra of anything nefarious, surely?”

  Roarke’s expression was grim. “I’m afraid so—to the point that Rockford has suggested I look into legal assistance for her defense.”

  Her mouth fell open in astonishment. “That’s ridiculous! Lyra is innocent. She wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

  “I fear the authorities don’t see it that way and for all intents and purposes, I have been given to wonder myself.” At the mutinous glimmer in Mara’s eyes, Roarke went on to explain the details of the case, and although he hadn’t told anyone else of Lyra’s near confession when she’d arrived at his house, he told Mara now.

  “Don’t tell me that you doubt her innocence?”

  Unfortunately, he hesitated a moment too long.

  Mara stiffened. “I knew that you believed the worst of me, but to imagine you would believe so of your own sister is unfathomable.”

  “So, I should completely ignore the words from her own lips?” He pointed out.

  “I’m saying that she was distraught when she said them and that even accidents that result in tragedy can make anyone feel responsible.”

  A brief silence descended after her passionate outburst, giving Roarke cause to wonder if she wasn’t speaking from personal experience. In the end, he decided it was best to back off, lest the conversation turn any more heated. “I certainly hope you’re right.”

  Blowing out a breath, he stood. “Of course I’m going to keep an ear out for anything regarding Bentley as well. With any luck I’ll gain something of import.” Going out on a limb, he asked, “Perhaps we could meet over luncheon tomorrow?”

  Mara twisted her hands in her lap, and he could tell he would be rebuffed, but not for the reasons he’d assumed. “Actually, I was planning to go to my shop in the morning.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” Roarke frowned. “While you weren’t the planned victim during Bentley’s kidnapping, you were in danger.”

  Mara’s gaze was steady when she met his. “I understand your concern, but I refuse to be cowed. Besides, it’s not as if I would be the first person to suffer the cruel effects of the East End and I daresay I won’t be the last. The haberdashery is all I have. I won’t keep the doors firmly barred because of a personal fear.”

  Roarke still wasn’t convinced, though he could tell by the determined gleam in her eyes that she wasn’t going to relent on the matter. “At least allow me to send along a footman with you.”

  She paused for a moment, before conceding. “I’ll agree to the company of a servant if it will ease your mind.”

  “It will.” Almost without conscious thought, Roarke reached out and laid a gentle hand on her cheek. “You are under my protection for the time being, however much you might detest that fact.” He thought he felt a slight tremor pass through her before she swallowed visibly. His gaze roamed her face, the one he’d thought never to lay eyes upon again. “I’ve missed this.” He spoke softly, and while he knew he was treading on dangerous ground, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from adding, “I’ve missed you, Mara.”

  She closed her eyes. “Roarke, I—”

  “Please, don’t say something you’ll regret later or that you don’t even mean. Let’s just leave it at this.” Moving away, he said quietly, “Good night.”

  With one last, lingering look, he turned and left.

  Chapter Seven

  “You’re rather distracted tonight, Eversleigh. Perhaps you should partner me for a hand of whist. I could certainly use the blunt I shall win from your lack of awareness of the game.”

  Roarke could only snort at the dandy across from him. Lord Jameson wore a perpetual smirk as he took out his snuffbox and inhaled a hearty pinch, then sneezed as delicately as any woman after he’d done so.

  “Indeed, I’m sure you could stand to lose a few hundred pounds all in the name of a gentlemanly sport.” This came from Lord Falconcrest who could be faithfully paired with Jameson and yet another thorough pain in Roarke’s arse.

  “When it comes to the definition of a gentleman, rest assured it is used rather sparingly in regard to either of you,” Lord Rockford piped up with a grin, although there was a challenging glint in his blue eyes.

  “Now see here—” Jameson started to protest but was abruptly struck with another sneezing fit.

  Roarke merely shook his head and raised his glass to his lips. Draining the last of his brandy, a nearby waiter was already on his way over for a refill, but he waved the man off. He needed to keep his wits about him if he were to gain any of the information he sought. Thus far, an evening at his club had been for naught, but at least he wasn’t torturing himself by being near Mara, knowing that should he dare attempt another kiss she would push him away.

  Lord Falconcrest stood and picked up where his comrade had left off. “Really, you two are becoming more boring than my butler and valet. I understand it of you, Rockford, being recently wed, but what’s your excuse, Eversleigh?”

  “I would suggest leaving my wife out of this,” Rockford warned. “I’m a happily married man, and anyone who suggests otherwise is spoiling for a fight. I’m only here tonight because the countess is attending a book club meeting at Lady Carlisle’s house.”

  Falconcrest was instantly silenced, although Jameson piped up rather unwisely, “I imagine Eversleigh’s reluctance to cut a swath through the ton is because of Lady Weston.” Apparently unaware of the storm that was brewing in Roarke’s eyes, he added, “I would certainly do my best to keep a low key in preparation for an epic scandal. How exactly did the earl die again?”

  Roarke clenched his fists as the man guffawed.

  It was vermin like Falconcrest and Jameson that would cause conjecture of the worst sort to be cast upon his sister. He was about to speak up in defense of her honor when another voice spoke up behind him and beat him to it.

  “I’m sure we could find something equally unsavory in your past. It wouldn’t be a tedious task, I’m sure, and I’d be more than happy to look into it.”

  Jameson instantly paled. “I say…that is…” He stumbled over his own tongue. Darting a quick glance between the newcomer and Roarke, he added hastily,

  “I apologize for speaking out of turn, my lord. I was merely funning about.”

  With that, he effectively turned tail and ran, with Falconcrest trailing on his heels like an obedient puppy.

  “Well done, Your Grace,” Rockford chuckled as the duke joined him and Eversleigh.

  “I have my moments, however sparse they may be,” the Duke of Albright replied with a smile.

  Roarke regarded the man before him in a new light. It was true Albright was very simple in looks and mannerisms, with rather unremarkable features, although he did hold himself with the proud reassurance of a high-ranking member of the peerage.

  He was always portrayed as a bit of a dunce because he never spoke over three words, but apparently, when he was nervous he chattered like a magpie with the opposite sex. In turn, his elder, widowed sister, Lady Franheim, was a veritable harridan. Most thought that she led him around by his ear, but perhaps the man possessed a bit of a backbone after all, and it just needed the right amount of coercion to make an appearance.

 

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