The air in Rafe’s lungs escaped in a rush. He said nothing but went to stand near a high-backed chair. Resting his hand on the top, he dug his fingertips into the velvet back.
“I spied a folly across the lake,” Beatrix said, and Rafe knew what she was going to say next.
He said it for her. “It was the folly.”
Beatrix nodded. “Complete with the dolphin and Aphrodite in the center.” Just as Rafe had remembered. He’d drawn what he recalled and shown the rendering to both of them.
Rafe squeeze the chair. He couldn’t believe she’d found it. “You’re certain?”
“Quite. Especially given the proximity to the lake.”
“It’s at Sutton Park?” Rafe had no idea where that was.
“No, the neighboring estate, Ivy Grove. It’s owned by the Earl of Stone.”
The Earl of Stone. Who the hell was that? Rafe hadn’t yet made the connections he wanted to amongst the highest members of Society. He was well on his way, however, since his sister was now married to the son of the Earl of Aylesbury and his pretend sister was now a viscountess.
The two of them also belonged to a women’s philanthropic organization called the Spitfire Society, whose membership boasted duchesses, marchionesses, countesses, and more. Women of influence and prestige.
How in the bloody hell had they found their way here?
Through hard work and persistence. Since meeting at the boarding school more than fifteen years ago, Selina and Beatrix had formed a bond as close as sisters. In fact, they told everyone they were sisters, and as a result, Rafe, who had been introduced as Selina’s brother, now had a fake half sister. He had no quarrel with the lie, particularly since Beatrix had been family to Selina when she’d needed it most. When Rafe had sent her to the school and abandoned her. He hadn’t meant to not see her for nearly two decades, but when he thought of her returning to the life he’d saved her from, he’d stopped writing while continuing to pay for her education. He hadn’t seen her again until a few weeks ago.
While he knew it had been the right thing to do, he suffered a deep, piercing anguish that would haunt him the rest of his life. Because while he’d protected Selina from the dangers of East London, she’d had to forge a path for herself and for Beatrix. As two women alone in the world, they’d done whatever they must in order to survive, including swindling and theft. He felt guilty about that too—if Selina’s background hadn’t been that of a thief and a swindler, perhaps she would have found another way.
He supposed she had, finally. Through love. She and Sheffield were quite thoroughly and wonderfully in love, and Rafe couldn’t have been more grateful. The same was true of Beatrix and Rockbourne.
Hopefully, for them it would last.
“Do you know Stone?” Selina asked. “You’re clearly lost in thought.”
Indeed he was. “No. I’m trying to think if I know of anyone who knows him.” In his most recent life, Rafe had been a moneylender called the Vicar. In that role, he’d met some men who moved in Society, most notably the Viscount Colton.
Rafe hadn’t ever encountered Stone or heard his name, but perhaps Colton could help him. As it happened, the man owed him a favor that Rafe had yet to claim.
“Tom’s cousin, the Countess of Sutton, does,” Beatrix said. “Because they’re neighbors. I’m certain we could all go to Sutton Park.”
He appreciated that, but it wasn’t enough. “I want to go to Ivy Grove.”
Selina walked toward him, stopping a couple of feet away, her mouth set in determination. “I do too.”
Of course she did. She remembered almost nothing of their parents—just that coral necklace, which he noted she was wearing again. She’d worn it every time he’d seen her since receiving it from Beatrix.
It couldn’t be their mother’s actual necklace. But they had no way of knowing since Beatrix had purchased it from a receiver shop that Rafe had only recently sold as he’d worked to divest himself of the businesses he’d owned as the Vicar. Rafe had gone back to ask, but they’d only said it had come from Petticoat Lane. Since that was the center of stolen goods in London, the necklace could have come from anywhere.
“Then it seems at the very least, we must be introduced to Stone.” Rafe planned to visit Colton as soon as they left. “I’ll take care of that.”
“How?” Selina asked, her blue eyes narrowing slightly.
“Trust me.”
Selina snorted, and Rafe smiled. He’d given her no reason to trust him and was trying to make amends. However, he knew how hard it was for her to trust anyone beyond Beatrix. Letting her guard down with her new husband had been almost too much for her. Luckily, she’d managed to open herself to him, and for that Rafe was both relieved and delighted. No one deserved happiness more than she.
He took his hand from the back of the chair and stepped around it toward his sister. “Lina, you can trust me in this. I promise I will keep you involved every step of the way.”
“They were my parents too,” she said softly.
“I know.”
“Do you really think we’re going to find out who they were? Who we are?”
That he didn’t know. But he hoped. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make that happen.”
Anger flared in Selina’s eyes. “Why didn’t Edgar tell us more before he died?”
Their “Uncle” Edgar had expired from excessive drink when Rafe was thirteen and Selina was ten. He’d sold them to Samuel Partridge, a criminal who controlled an army of young thieves among other enterprises, such as flash-houses and receiver shops, two years prior but had stayed nearby and kept in occasional contact.
“Because he didn’t care about anyone but himself, and it didn’t serve his purposes to reveal any more than he did.” Which was almost nothing. He had said one thing that had clung to a part of Rafe’s mind and resurfaced from time to time.
Thinking, Rafe moved toward the window and looked out at the walled garden. With its manicured shrubbery and colorful flowers, it looked like a miniature park, complete with a path, statuary, and a few benches. It was about as far removed from the memories currently clouding his brain as one could imagine.
Rafe turned from the window to face Selina and Beatrix. “The last time I saw Edgar was the day before he died.” The man had been a yellowed, shrunken version of himself. “He asked to be buried at the Croydon Parish Church. That didn’t make sense to me, and I didn’t care to honor any of his wishes, so I ignored him.”
The purpose of Rafe’s visit had been to gloat about his recent promotion in Partridge’s organization. He’d wanted Edgar to know how much better off he and Selina were without him. At thirteen, Rafe had been full of arrogance and bluster. He’d long ago lost the bluster, but some would say he was still arrogant. He preferred confident.
Beatrix rose from the settee. She was petite—a good six inches shorter than Selina’s five feet nine. “We drove through Croydon on our way to Sutton Park. Which means it’s also on the way to Ivy Grove.”
What the hell did that signify?
Selina smoothed her hand down the side of her face. “Why would Edgar want to be buried in a town we never visited—or at least don’t remember visiting—which happens to be near a place you recall from our childhood?”