Page 16 of The Earl She Once Saved

“Do try not to make that achievement temporary.”

Later, there had been darker nights, the sort that came after the body had healed enough for the mind to begin its own campaign. Ezra had known those, too. He had never asked Rafe to explain what could never be explained in mere words. He simply remained until dawn, sometimes speaking, sometimes not, once playing cards by himself because Rafe could not bear silence and could not endure conversation.

Rafe had owed him long before the ball that tore through Ezra’s thigh. Afterward, the debt had become impossible to count.

He folded the letter again. This time he put it away. If Ezra meant to pretend that his leg was merely inconvenient, Rafe would permit the fiction … for a little while. Then, he would see what might actually be done.

Edgeworth had room, air, quiet, horses, if Ezra could ride again, and good ground if he could not. Whatever peace the place possessed was not Rafe’s to give, but he could at least offer it. He owed the man more than that.

A knock came at the door and Rafe turned.

“Come.”

Mrs. Hale entered. Win, Verity called her. Rafe had not yet earned the familiarity.

The housekeeper carried no tray and no household book, which made her appearance unusual enough that he gave her his full attention at once.

“Mrs. Hale.”

“My lord.”

Her manner remained impeccably correct. It had been correct from the first moment she saw him. Correctness, Rafe had discovered, could contain a remarkable variety of insults.

“Lady Edgeworth is waiting below.”

The title still sat strangely whenever he heard it applied to Verity. He did not allow the thought to show.

“Has something happened?”

“Old Tom Hartley is failing.”

The name stirred an old, indistinct memory.

Hartley … low fields … haymaking.

His mind’s eye saw a broad man laughing somewhere above the sound of a whetstone against a scythe.

Rafe frowned. “The tenant at Beck Lane?”

The woman’s expression shifted by perhaps half a degree. Approval, he suspected.

“Yes, my lord. His family has worked Edgeworth land longer than anyone remembers. He has asked to see the new master before he dies.”

Rafe glanced toward the letter upon the table. “When?”

“Now, if you please.”

He reached for his coat, but he could see that she hesitated. It was so slight he might have missed it had he not spent years watching men decide whether to speak before superior officers.

“What is it?”

“Lady Edgeworth sent me to fetch you.”

That was all. Yet something in the way she said it gave the words additional weight. It sounded as if Verity had chosen to bring him.

Rafe buttoned his coat. “I am coming.”

Verity waited in the hall in a dark walking dress, already gloved and bonneted. Sergeant lay near her feet. The dog lifted his head when Rafe approached, regarded him, then lowered it again.