Page 127 of The Earl She Once Saved

“How near did you come to striking him?” Ezra ginned.

“Near enough.”

“What stopped you?”

“Crote.”

“His presence?”

“His enjoyment.”

Ezra’s brows lifted.

“He was watching us,” Rafe explained. “Not as a guest watches a family quarrel. He wanted to know which of us would yield.”

“And did he learn?”

“Roland threatened to turn me out.”

Ezra’s expression lost its faint amusement. “Can he?”

“He is the earl. This is his house.”

“And what did you say?”

“That I would like to see him try.”

Rafe flexed his hand. He could still feel the moment Roland had stepped close, wearing their father’s signet and smiling.

This house will be easier without a jealous younger brother poisoning my wife against me.

The words had been chosen carefully. Roland had watched his face while he spoke them.

“I will not leave Edgeworth to his mercy,” Rafe said.

“And Verity?”

Rafe turned back to the window. In the courtyard, Verity crossed between two servants carrying flowers. She stopped them, examined the arrangement and redirected them toward the ballroom. Even at a distance, he knew the angle of her head and the precise gesture of one hand. She wore no cloak. Rain caught in her dark hair.

Rafe’s whole body tightened with the need to go outside and place his coat around her shoulders, but he did not move.

Ezra followed his gaze.

“I see,” he said quietly.

Rafe said nothing. It was answer enough.

“What is it between you and Roland?” Ezra asked.

“He is my brother.”

“That explains blood, not hatred.”

“I do not hate him.”

Ezra waited.

Rafe released a hard breath. “Our father never hid which son he wished had been born first.”