Page 627 of From Rakes to Riches

“Oh, but it most certainly is,” said Artemis, conversationally. “His lands adjoin Endcliffe Grange on the northern border. Grandmama couldn’t stand the man. Called him an eccentric old nodcock.” Artemis rolled her eyes skyward. “Grandmama was in her seventy-sixth year when she passed ten years ago. So, if she knew him—and thought him old—well, I don’t see how he could have fewer than ninety years on him.”

“You can’t possibly refuse, if only to assuage your curiosity.”

“True,” said Artemis, thoughtfully. “I seem to remember he named all his horses after herbs and root vegetables. There was a Parsley and a Coriander. Carrot—or was that Turnip?—placed at Doncaster a few years ago, if memory serves. All descended from the Darley line.”

“You sound like—” Gemma’s mouth snapped shut.

Rake.

She couldn’t trust herself to speak the name without her voice breaking in two.

Artemis didn’t seem to notice. “My brother? Aye, I reckon I do.” Her mouth curved in a small, faraway smile. The old Artemis would’ve laughed. But notthisArtemis. This Artemis was somber and serious. Like the animals she took in, she needed time and careful handling to heal. That smile was, at least, a start.

Gemma’s eye caught on a figure in the distance.Tall…lean…

A familiar figure…

A figure possessed of a specific magnificence.

She blinked. She was seeing phantoms. Except, not phantoms, for as far as she knew Rake was very much alive.

What he wasn’t, however, was here at Endcliffe Grange.

Artemis took one look at the figure and reached a different conclusion, for her brow gathered and she immediately called out, “Rake!” an unmistakable note of fractiousness in her voice.

Gemma squinted, her eyes going wide the next instant.

The figure was, in fact, Rake.

A torrent of competing emotions buzzed straight through her.

Rake…here.

“I told you to stay away!” shouted Artemis. At her side, Bathsheba gave a loud, loyal bark.

Rake didn’t break stride.

Now, he was close enough for Gemma to see where his focus was centered—directly upon her. And within those eyes that were once so inscrutable to her, she detected determination.

A warm shiver traced through her. She’d never much minded being the object of his determination, if she was being entirely truthful.

For her part, Artemis opened her mouth to say more to her brother, but Rake held up a hand, staying the words in her mouth. “I’m not here for you, sister.”

Artemis glanced back and forth between Rake and Gemma, then once again for good measure, and her eyes went wide with sudden understanding. “Oh,” she said. “Right.”

And still Rake’s gaze didn’t once stray from Gemma. “Now, leave us.”

Artemis didn’t need to be told twice. “Bathsheba,” she said with a light click, owner and dog striding away.

Which left Gemma with Rake.

Alone.

Several beats of time ticked past, the silence awkward until Rake said, “You’re not in New York.”

A statement of the obvious.

“No,” she said. Another statement of the obvious. “I never really wanted to go.” Her throat went thick with emotion. “Thank you for making it possible for me to stay in England.”

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