Page 12 of Her Rake Fiancé

“Oh, I’m sorry, Preston,” Calliope muttered as she put her cup back onto its saucer and reached for a white napkin folded neatly on the tea table.

“Never mind that,” Preston snapped as he jumped to his feet, tore the napkin from her hand, and wiped his face. “What the devil did you say, brother?”

“He said he was engaged!” exclaimed Grandmama.

“To whom?” demanded Calliope.

“When?” barked Preston. “Why haven’t you told us before?”

“To Miss Jane Grant,” Richard said. “Today. I just came from her brother.”

“Who’s Miss Jane Grant?” asked Calliope. “I don’t remember being introduced to her…”

“I’ve never heard of her,” said Preston.

Grandmama narrowed her eyes into two slits. “Miss Jane Grant… Is she any relation to the deceased Lord Grant? He was a baron.”

“Yes,” said Richard, his palms sweating again under the intent, sharp gazes of his family. Grandmama knew almost everyone in the ton; of course he shouldn’t be surprised she had heard of Miss Grant or her father. “She’s his daughter. Nothing escapes you, Grandmama.”

“Nothing, indeed…” With a thoughtful expression, she fiddled with the diamond ring on her finger. “Lord Grant had an illegitimate son, his firstborn. Everybody knew that because he had the boy grow up in his household, educated like a proper gentleman. But for obvious reasons the boy could never inherit the title. And then the boy disappeared from society after he graduated from Oxford. But instead of going the way of a solicitor or a clerk like most men in his situation, he sank into a world inappropriate for gentlemen. He became a poor connection. So when Lord Grant died, Miss Grant wasn’t welcome anymore. But I forget the brother’s name…”

Richard’s heart thumped in his palms. “It’s Thorne Blackmore.”

Complete silence fell on the room. In the hallway, footsteps sounded, growing louder until the door opened and Teanby came in with a cup of Mama’s tea service on a small tray. He froze for a mere moment as his glance stalled on Preston before continuing as though there was nothing amiss. He put the cup on the tea table.

“Will there be anything else?” he asked.

“No,” the four of them said as one.

Teanby nodded, his glance quickly scanning the family.

When the door closed behind him, Preston turned to Richard once again. “What on earth are you thinking? Engaged to a criminal’s sister? What’s going on?”

Richard shot to his feet. He couldn’t contain the terrible tension in his chest. “I love her,” he said. “We’re in love.”

He had to keep up the pretense to find Spencer. He’d do anything.

“In love?” Calliope scoffed, quite unladylike. “You never even mentioned her before. How could you be in love?”

Richard glanced at the empty teacup that was meant for him. To convince them, he needed to bring up the last thing in the world he wanted to. The one person the sheer mention of whom made him want to drop to his knees from pain.

“I haven’t said anything to any of you”—Richard marched towards the sideboard that held several glasses and a crystal decanter of brandy—“because of Lady Charity.”

The mention of his former fiancée struck the three of them silent once again, looking at one another with caution.

“Oh,” said Calliope finally.

Richard poured himself a glass of brandy, its sharp scent filling his nostrils. “Exactly. Oh.”

“Dearest, you know we just don’t want you to get hurt again,” said Grandmama.

“It was you, in fact,” said Preston, who walked to the sideboard, and Richard poured another glass for him, “who swore five years ago to never get engaged again.”

“Precisely!” said Calliope. “Can you blame us for being surprised? Her betrayal destroyed you.”

Every word was true. Even speaking of it made his heart bleed in agony. Richard drank the brandy, savoring the rich taste that burned his mouth. Seeing Lady Charity kiss another man was the event that had borne the rake he’d become. He drank and slept around to forget the pain of betrayal and rejection at the hands of the only woman he’d ever loved.

“And where would you have even met her?” demanded Grandmama. “She’d never be welcome in any proper home in London.”