Page 21 of In Want of a Wife
She winked, pointing her finger at him. “Yes, a rake through and through, and so devilishly charming.”
“Only when I’ve had breakfast.”
The duchess walked out next in an understated lavender gown. Her eyes were like those of a sad dog, lost and yet so begrudgingly kind. Rafe blew out an annoyed breath and focused back on Miss Katherine's inquisition.
“You were recently in the gossip rags. There was something to do with a tribunal and some gambling debts. And some rather unsatisfactory conduct for such an esteemed naval officer.”
London had been a problem last autumn after returning from his last post, yes. But it wasn’t as if he had had a long history of such behavior. Admiral Ackerman had sent a letter expressing his concern after word spread around London about Rafe’s legendary stroke of bad luck at the gaming tables. Then, Henry had swooped in with newshe had inherited an earldom and dragged Rafe off to Cliffstone before any significant damages were done, besides those, of course, to his ego.
“Yes, well naval tribunals do fascinate Mayfair, but that matter is finished.”
“Gossip is never so quick to die.” Miss Katherine adjusted her bonnet. “Miss Abrams wishes next to nothing in a husband beyond escaping her family and securing some stability.”
He leaned into the carriage, his jaw suddenly tight. “I am the younger brother, so infer what you must, but I assure you my brother is a man of great discipline and integrity.” He stepped aside, holding his hand out to help the duchess inside. “Your Grace.”
She nodded, distracted by the sight of Lily rushing out the door with her arm full of books and a large satchel slung over her shoulder.
“Where will she fit all that?” Miss Katherine wondered aloud.
The duchess only laughed, the same endearing laugh of a mother watching over her child who insists upon doing everything for themselves. “I admire her grit. I will miss our Lily.”
“It is not as if we will never see her again.”
Rafe glanced back to the approaching figure of Miss Abrams in her blue traveling dress. Blue when her eyes were deep brown, filled with such fierce fire he didn’t dare meet her stare as she strode up.
“Excuse me.” She bumped against him, the books nearly toppling out of her arms.
“Let me help?—”
“That is quite all right. I have been holding books myself for much of my life. I do not need help today.”
Very well. He stepped aside, annoyed at Miss Katherine’s tittering inside the carriage in between softly humming the tune of a popular tavern song.
How had this become his life? He had been well on his way to becoming a captain, and now he was waiting to select his next posting or decide if he would leave the Navy.
“Mr. Davies?”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
She shrugged, pointing to Miss Abrams who struggled to climb into the carriage.
Right. He cleared his throat and offered assistance once more.
Miss Abrams twisted around. “I must insist—” She tripped on her hem, nearly tumbling backward off the step of the carriage.
Rafe lunged forward, stretching out to catch her. Her petite body toppled into his arms, soft and smelling of apricots and cinnamon.
He really must have breakfast, or he was the very devil.
She blinked up at him for a moment, and he was struck by her dark brown eyes and the way the sun made them spark with enough gold a crew would certainly mutiny over.
“Are you well?” she asked.
The world turned upside down again. He tried to piece together why it felt as if what he knew of the world was crumbling and washing away to sea. Or why he suddenly couldn’t speak.
It felt…
Well, with her in his arms.
