Page 14 of The Earl She Once Saved

“But I did not know there was a second drainage cut beyond Mercer’s hedge. I did not know which laborer could be trusted to shore a bank or which field could take the overflow without ruining another man. It never seemed to be my business.”

Verity said nothing.

“You however, did know everything.”

The simplicity of it unsettled her.

“I have lived here.”

“That is not the same thing.”

Something in her chest tightened.

Rafe continued before she could answer.

“You know every tenant by name. You know the fields. You know which roof leaks, which account can wait and which cannot. The men today did not merely obey you.”

His gaze held hers.

“They trusted you.”

Verity spent years defending that truth. She defended it against creditors, neighbors, tenants who first doubted her, her aunt, and the invisible weight of a name which was not hers and yet governed every part of her life.

She expected to defend it against him most of all. She prepared herself for that battle before he ever arrived. She was not prepared for his surrender.

“I cannot hold Edgeworth together without you,” Rafe confessed.

She heard no ornament in his voice, and no reluctance, only fact. Verity felt the smallest loosening of the place where she braced herself against him.

“You could learn,” she replied.

“I intend to.”

She looked at him. There was mud dried across his boots. His coat was ruined. The scar at his temple remained pale against his skin. Against her better judgement, she remembered a young officer in lamplight whispering that he did not wish to die.

Her throat tightened.

“I could show you,” she caught herself saying.

She regretted it momentarily, remembering that they were not allies, but it was already too late to take it back.

Rafe became very still. “Could you?”

She frowned. “Just don’t make me regret offering.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“You have shown no difficulty daring anything else.”

Something changed in his face. It was not quite a smile. It was worse than a smile. It was equally charming, yet she had no idea what exactly caused it or how she could make it appear again.

“Tomorrow?” he asked.

Verity hesitated, then nodded. “Tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

He reached for her hand. She removed her gloves at the meadow and never put them back on. His fingers closed over her bare skin. They were warm.