Page 19

The man who can be contented to live with a pretty useful companion without a mind…has never felt the calm satisfaction that refreshes the parched heart…of being beloved by one who could understand him.

—Mary Wollstonecraft

One might imagine it was a funeral, given all the somber gazes in my father’s library. Perhaps it was—the certain demise of Lady Zenobia Osborn. The thunderous expression on the duke’s face as he paced a hole in the carpet was responsible for half of it, and nothing seemed to be able to appease him, not even my mother’s calming influence. We were waiting for Keston, who had taken a hackney to see Miss Perkins safely home. My friends had followed them in Rafi’s carriage, and I’d promised to check in with them later. If I survived, that was…. I’d ridden in silence with Ela and my parents, and you could have heard a pin drop in the carriage.

After what seemed like an eternity, when I heard voices in the foyer, I ran out.

“How did it go?” I blurted when I saw my brother removing his outer trappings and handing them to Forsythe. His broad frame blocked the door for a moment, and my heart sank as I took in that he was alone. I’d hoped to see Rafi, too, but certainly, no one would dare disobey the Duke of Harbridge.

Cursing softly as his gloves fell, Keston bent, and the object of my affections appeared behind him. Relief mixed with alarm as I drank Rafi in, wanting nothing more than to hurl myself into his arms, despite my father’s decree that he should stay away. Worry won out over the initial burst of joy as he, too, removed his cloak and hat. Goodness, I was happy to see him, but did he intend to stay? Papa was on a rampage and most definitely needed time to calm down.

“Miss Perkins?” I asked again as Keston approached.

“She was as well as could be expected.”

I studied his grim expression. “And how was that? Her sisters might cast her out with nothing.”

The boys shared a look. “She’s safe, though they did.”

“Beasts!” I said feelingly, and then my body went cold with apprehension as the consequences sank in. “What will happen to her? She lives at Welton. She’ll have nowhere to go. How can she be safe if she’s homeless?”

“She has somewhere to stay,” Rafi said, walking toward me, gray eyes warm.

“But she has no other family.” I blinked in confusion.

Keston clapped his friend on the back to keep him from moving closer to me. “I offered for her to stay here, but she’s at his place in Covent Garden until things settle or she finds rooms of her own.”

My heart categorically melted. This boy. The studio was his most private space in the world, and he’d given it up to help a veritable stranger.

“Where is everyone?” Keston asked, and I jerked a thumb over my shoulder.

“Library.”

I waited for Keston to head in that direction, but he wasn’t budging. He stared at me, his brown eyes unwavering. “In the Lord Mayor’s parlor, they spoke of a vigilante group called the Lady Knights, and Rafi mentioned the name Lady Knight some months ago, from someone who robbed him. The funny thing is, something very similar happened to me by a group of women.” He paused, that narrowed gaze pinning me. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Sister dear?”

My face flamed as I gaped like a fish out of water. “Yes! I’m sorry I took money from you to feed hungry orphans!” I blurted, and scrubbed a palm over my cheeks. “Kes, please. We can talk about how awful I am later. Just let me have a few moments with Rafi without Papa running him off.”

His gaze hardened at the informal address. “Rafi?”

“He’s my friend, too,” I said softly, knowing Rafi was much more than that. Keston looked like he had a lot more to say—after his declaration at the Old Bailey—but with a frustrated grunt, he turned on his heel and marched out of the foyer.

“Ten minutes, Zia,” he tossed over his shoulder.

That would have to be enough. I turned to Rafi, my pulse humming frantically like butterfly wings under my skin. “Why did you come back after what my father said?”

“I told you before, Zia. Nothing and no one can keep me from you.” A hand lifted to wrap around the end of one of my curls as he gently tugged, a slight smile curving those perfect lips. “Not even the fearsome Duke of Harbridge.”

It was endearingly brave, but my father made grown men quake. “He’s furious, Rafi. If he sees you, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

His fingers cupped my chin. “I’ll just have to take my chances.”

“Why would you do that?”

“You know why.”

For the second time in a handful of minutes, I was struck speechless both by his words and that soft, soft look in his eyes as they drifted over my person with tenderness. My heart stretched to bursting, and my lungs shriveled as everything shrank down to just the two of us. What was he saying? Why was he looking at me like that? Could it be what I was imagining, or was it something else?

“Tell me,” I whispered.

“For such a smart girl, Firefly, I’m shocked you haven’t figured it out.” With a laugh at my instant huff of indignation, Rafi reached for my hand and brought it between us as he stepped closer. He was so close that if I took a deep enough breath, my chest would brush his. Heat spilled through me at the thought, and parts of me pulled deliciously tight as unbearable tingles raced over my skin.

We were in the middle of the foyer with people like Forsythe and footmen milling about, out of sight for the moment but definitely there. Our servants were discreet, but we were being reckless out in the open even if he was simply holding my hand. But if Rafi kept staring at me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever seen…as though he wanted to immortalize every inch of me on a canvas in his head, I could not be expected to be responsible for my actions. Not when every sensible thought seemed to be draining from my brain.

“You are decidedly the most infuriating girl on the planet,” he said softly, lifting my knuckles to his lips and pressing the lightest of kisses to them. My breath hitched, pure want barreling through me on a wave. Storm-bright gray eyes lifted to mine, swirling with so many emotions I could barely begin to decipher what each meant—trepidation, fear, fondness, desire—the same cocktail currently making my brain a hopeless mess. The touch was so delicately chaste, and yet the desire in his turbulent gaze was anything but. No, that stare glinted with exactly what he wanted to do to me. I locked my knees to keep them from buckling.

“I am?” I said, and licked my dry lips.

He nodded with another soft kiss, though that intense gaze dipped to my mouth and darkened before capturing mine once more. “And the most incorrigible, intractable, and heedless person, and yet, I would not change a single hair on your head. In truth, you have beguiled me, Lady Zenobia Osborn.”

“I must say, Mr. Nasser, you have impeccably dreadful timing,” I croaked as his lips continued to trace a path of sensuous destruction over my scorching skin. “Because I’m certain I am about to be sent to a convent for all eternity.”

“Then I shall scale the walls and rescue you.”

I laughed dizzily, not even bothering to retort that any woman worth her salt would be able to rescue herself. Sometimes, it was nice that someone else cared enough to do it for you. “Who would have thought you were such a romantic?”

“I suppose I have a painter’s heart. Buried though it is under all these magnificent layers of my splendid self,” he said with an insouciant wink.

“That arrogance will be your undoing one day, sir.”

He arched a brow. “So, you don’t think I’m magnificent?”

I thought he was beyond so, but the words got locked in my throat when Rafi’s lips kissed a trail of fire over each knuckle and up to my wrist bones before flipping my hand, grazing his mouth against the sensitive tender skin on the inside. I gasped when I felt the point of his tongue. Heavens, I was ready to combust until I was nothing but a pile of ash in the immaculate foyer. Gracious, the foyer !

“Rafi, anyone could come in here and see us,” I whispered, my other hand lifting to grip the lapels of his coat. I wasn’t sure whether it was to push him away or pull him closer as my stare found the clock. “We only have three minutes left.”

“Then let’s make the most of it,” he replied as that wicked mouth of his climbed its way up my forearm, chasing the gooseflesh peppering my skin.

“This is unseemly,” I protested feebly as if any part of me truly gave a whit about modesty. “You cannot be seen touching me like this unless your wish is a swift trip to the altar.”

“And what if I do want that?” he murmured, pausing in his devastating ascent.

Everything stopped…my thoughts, my breath, my very heart. “I beg your pardon?” His hand released mine only to reach forward and tunnel its way into the curls at my nape, anchoring sweetly at the base of my skull. My pulse streamed.

“You asked me why before,” he said quietly. “It was for you, Zia, surely you must know that. Your care and esteem for Miss Perkins at the Old Bailey could not have been more obvious. I knew it would make you happy if she was safe. I wanted— want —to make you happy.”

My chest suddenly felt ten times too small. “Rafi.”

“You see me like no one else ever has, Zia. I’ve never felt so comfortable to just let go and be who I am, unapologetically and enthusiastically, as I’ve been these past weeks when I’m with you.” His other hand reached up to cup my chin, thumb brushing my jawline, the position so bold that it would be obvious to anyone what we were doing, but I no longer cared. I never wanted him to stop speaking. “You have a gift for bringing out the best in people,” he whispered. “With Miss Perkins, with your friends, with anyone who is fortunate to know you.”

My vision swam with unshed tears. “Truly, I don’t think any of them are thinking that at the moment. I’m sure they are all wishing they’d never met me. Are you certain you don’t wish to save yourself before you’re swept away into the perilous whirlpool of Zia Osborn?”

“Too late.” That smirk of his graced his lips for the barest of seconds. “And in case my meaning didn’t penetrate that intrepid mind of yours, with your permission, I intend to speak to the duke.” Vulnerability crept over his face. “I know my timing is ghastly, but say you’ll marry me, Zia.”

A silly part of me still wondered if this was some fever dream, but Rafi’s hands around me were real. His sincerity was real. This was real. But I could not drag him further into this mess until I was sure I wasn’t going to be accused and sentenced. He did not deserve that or any of the ensuing scandal. The viscount would not be satisfied until someone bled, and I could see on his face that he wouldn’t let this go. My mother had told him to declare his grievances, and I’d no doubt he would.

“Promise you’ll ask me again when this has all been settled,” I whispered, curling my fingers into a fist and dragging him even closer.

Though disappointment flashed briefly in his stare, he nodded after a beat. “I’ll wait for as long as you need, Firefly.”

God. This. Man. My throat tightened. “Will you please kiss me now?”

His eyes shone, turning to molten silver, but before he could acquiesce to my rather impulsive request, an obnoxious cough popped our tiny bubble, making us leap apart. Heat rushed to my cheeks as I peered up to see my brother staring at us with a conflicted look on his face as his head swung between Rafi andme.

How much of that had he heard? Had he heard Rafi propose? Heard me beg for a kiss? Mortification filled me, but I jutted my chin high, refusing to feel an ounce of guilt.

Keston ran a hand over his jaw. “Not to crash whatever this is, but Father is about to burn a hole in the carpets, and with the froth he’s in, I don’t know how much longer I can put him off from stalking out here to find out what’s keeping you.” That sharp gaze cut to Rafi. “Or better yet, who is keeping you.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how furious is he?” I asked my brother, glad that he’d chosen to keep the peace for the moment. Which could only mean one thing…there was a much bigger threat on the horizon.

“Twenty.”

I sighed. It was time to face the consequences of my actions. My parents would be the first hurdle. If I could convince them somehow of my good intentions, perhaps I had a chance of surviving this disaster unscathed. Or at least the others could. I’d take the fall gladly.

Rafi squeezed my hand as if he could read my thoughts. “Don’t quit on me now, Firefly. I’m with you every step of the way.”

“Me too, Zia,” Keston said. “Even though I don’t claim to understand what would drive you to fleece me, of all people. Was it because I forgot your birthday? I knew that would come back to bite me in the arse.”

I couldn’t help it; I laughed at his droll expression, aware he was trying to make light of what was to come. “Yes, Kes. That’s exactly why. Everything is about you.”

His arm looped over my shoulders. “Jokes aside, I’m always here for you.” He glared at Rafi on my opposite side. “And if you survive Father, I’ll give you a chance to save the life of my best friend before I trounce the daylights out of him for daring to flirt with my baby sister. Don’t think I don’t know what this is!”

I arched my brows. “You think a little flirtation is worse than fleecing the viscount at a gaming hell, racing in the Midnight Row, and fighting a duel for money in the West End?”

Keston blanched as his mouth dropped open. “What in the actual hell, Zia!”

“Honestly, Brother, think of the children,” I said.

“Never mind. I shall send one of the footmen for a priest to read you your last rites.” My brother shook his head in disbelief. “What were you thinking? Stealing? Illegal betting? Fighting?” His expression was censorious, though the light of admiration also burned in his gaze. “Please tell me you at least won.”

I grinned at him. That was more like it. “Ask Rafi. It was him I beat both times.”

Keston’s brown skin darkened to purple, his fists balling. “You knew about all of this?” he ground out. “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“What are the odds of preventing a storm?” Rafi said, unperturbed that his best mate was ready to wipe the floor with him. “She had to run her course. I was there to keep her as safe as I could.”

Keston blinked, anger draining somewhat as his gaze cut from Rafi back to me. “Who even are you right now?”

“Your sister,” I said softly. “Who needs you.”

All the pent-up aggression bled from him as he dragged me into his arms for a hug, and I took enormous comfort in that. Whatever happened next, I wasn’t alone, no matter how vexed he was with me.

When the door to the library closed behind us, my father saw Rafi behind me and opened his mouth to rail, but the duchess forestalled him with one fierce look.

“With all due respect, Your Grace, I’m not leaving her alone right now,” Rafi said, and I swear I nearly swooned. No one willingly went up against the Duke of Harbridge…and Rafi was doing it for me.

A vein pulsed on my father’s brow, but after a fraught handful of seconds, he nodded, though his eyes shot daggers at Rafi. To his credit, Rafi didn’t shrink in the face of the duke’s displeasure, and I reached back to find his hand. I squeezed and laced our fingers. He wasn’t alone, either. We were in this together.

“Explain,” my mother said to me.

I drew in a breath, taking strength from both Rafi and my brother. Ela offered me a reassuring nod from where she stood next to Keston, her face pale and tight. I only had one shot at this, at convincing my parents to put their collective influence behind me. Behind all of us.

“It’s true that the Lady Knights exist, but we’re not a gang,” I said quietly but clearly enough to be heard. “It’s simply a group of young women who formed a book club and then decided we wanted to do something productive and daring with our lives before we were put on display for the season and married off to someone not of our choosing. And before you instantly assign blame to Miss Perkins, she did not put me up to this.”

“She facilitated it!” my father said.

I shook my head. “No, Papa. She simply opened my eyes to other women fighting for human rights, like Mary Wollstonecraft and Hannah More, and those daring to be different in fields not normally accommodating to women, like what Mary Anning is discovering in paleontology, despite being uncredited for her work, and what Caroline Herschel is doing in astronomy.” I glanced at my father, whose face grew redder by the minute, knowing he was going to make some remark that none of those women were aristocrats…that that was not my place or duty. “And let’s not forget our own Lady Hester Stanhope, who travels in the East wearing men’s clothing and is a pioneer in archaeology.” My gaze flicked to my mother, who was listening with avid interest. And did I detect a hint of pride in her expression? “Or Mama, who fights tirelessly for women’s rights.”

“That is not the same thing,” the duke said with a dismissive sniff. “Can you imagine the scandal if word got out that our daughter was part of something so radical? No gentleman would want a bar of you.” I warmed at the fact that Rafi certainly would, but then went cold as my father pointed out another hard-hitting fact. “Or any of your so-called friends for that matter. Their reputations would be ruined irreparably.” His gaze flicked to Ela. “And we are all intimately familiar with the impact of the ton ’s disdain.”

Oh, we were.

Greer’s engagement might be called off. Nori would be shunned. And Lalita would never be able to make the match she needed to placate her aunt and uncle. Those two grasping wretches would certainly marry her off to whoever would take her. Bitterness filled me. Perhaps that would serve her right. If she hadn’t told Sarah, then none of this would have happened. Sarah had to have told someone, otherwise why would her parents have taken her out of school? It was suspicious.

“Girl gangs!” my father growled. “The absurdity.”

“A book club, Papa, not some nefarious gang. Viscount Hollis was stirring up trouble to make it seem worse than it was. We would never hurt anyone, and we only took money from those who we knew wouldn’t miss it.”

Livid blue eyes bored into mine as my father’s jaw dropped at my inadvertent confession. “I beg your pardon? Took money? ”

Heart sinking, my knees shook. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, Papa. It was just from Keston and his mates. We had to save the orphans, and, well, the money was better to put food in their bellies than lost on the gambling tables,” I blurted, knowing I was stretching the truth, and sent a pleading gaze to my mother. I had to redirect the conversation before my father expired from apoplexy. “And besides, it’s obvious that the viscount is only going after Miss Perkins and Welton because he wants the building and the land for his gaming hell! He doesn’t care about how many lives he will destroy.”

Silence descended. “Is that so?” my mother asked softly. “How do you know this?”

“Sister Mary told us. We were just trying to help save the orphanage, our school, the church.” My voice wobbled, but if anyone could salvage any of this, it would be my mother. “Mama, please believe me. We didn’t rob anyone of great importance, just Keston and his mates.”

And the viscount…though I’d rather not mention him.

Keston belted out a chuckle in the wake of that. “And you didn’t think to ask, Sister?”

What could I say? That it wouldn’t have been as fun? That the act in itself was as much of a rebellious stand against our pretty cages? “It would not have been enough. And since then, the property owner has tripled their rent, from three to nine hundred pounds, under duress from Mr. Atkins and the viscount. Outrageous.”

Risking a glance at my father, whose face was bright red, I braced myself for his eruption. I could sense the silent throttling of his ire. Being part of a group of young ladies pushing decorum was one thing, but admitting to robbing people, even if it was my own brother, was much worse. Though his lips were a translucent line and that vein was staking a claim on his temple, my mother’s hand on his arm kept his temper at bay.

The duchess drew in a clipped breath. “He might not have actual proof, as Mr. Kaneko said, and surely your brother and his friends wouldn’t press charges against you, but Viscount Hollis’s claims of hysteria could make things quite difficult for you girls as well as your teacher.”

Mama was right. The allegation of hysteria could be a serious concern. Men had committed women to asylums for less. My stomach soured. We might be safe with the weight of our families behind us, but Miss Perkins would not be.

The duke cleared his throat, fighting for composure. “Zenobia, how could you have been so reckless?”

I hung my head. “It was foolish of me, Papa. I understand that now. My heart was in the right place, I promise.”

He let out a breath and closed his eyes. “I believe you,” he said with a sigh. “Where’s my little girl who was always the soul of civility and decorum? Who never set one toe out of line? Who always did as she was told?”

I sniffed wryly. “She grew up, Papa. She got tired of letting life just happen to her. It’s meant to be lived, isn’t it?” I bit my lip. “You and Mama always told us to remember who we are, and to think for ourselves, and that’s what I’m doing. You named me after a queen. What kind of queen would I be if I willfully ignored injustice and suffering?”

“There are other ways to fight against those things, my darling,” my mother said gently.

“Like what?” I burst out in frustration. “We are forbidden to own property of our own. We cannot work to earn money, lest we reduce our chances of making an advantageous match. We are only expected to sit and look pretty, and let our minds languish from disuse, while the men in our society tell us what to think and what opinions we should have.”

“Your father doesn’t do that, and neither does your brother,” Mama said.

“Isn’t that what Papa is doing right now?” I asked resentfully. “Trying to corral me and control me?”

“You’re my daughter!” he roared. “I care about your safety, girl. If you want to save the children, save the children! But don’t put yourself in danger and think you’re battling for the greater good.” He paced again before stopping and grasping the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t knowingly break the law and try to explain it away with respectable intentions, Zenobia. That is privilege. Consider if someone less fortunate than you had done the same. What do you think would happen then?”

My spirits deflated as I thought about the fourteen-year-old boy and the nineteen-year-old girl who had been sentenced to transportation and death, respectively. They had not been lucky. Neither of them had had parents who had stared down the Lord Mayor and took their daughter home. Or even a proper barrister. If I’d been a commoner and Viscount Hollis had brought his accusations about me to his friend Atkins, I would have had no chance.

“You’re right, it was wrong of me. I’m sorry,” I said, dejected.

The duke crossed the room and kissed my brow in a rare show of emotion. “I know you are. But for now, you are confined to your quarters. I forbid you to leave this house and to see those friends of yours.” He lifted his gaze to Rafi. “Or him, for that matter. Though I applaud his courage for standing his ground to support you.”

Horrified, I stared at him. “But, Papa—”

“It’s for your own good, Zenobia.” He gave me a fond if regretful smile. “Sometimes even queens, as clever as they are, need to be protected from themselves.”