Page 14 of Under the Earl's Wicked Spell

The closer they got to England, the worse they got. Rafe hated it.

“I need to get up.” Rafe started to sit up. “I don’t want to sleep.”

“I don’t think you’ve slept well since you got that letter about your family.” Charlie shuffled to one side so Rafe could swing his legs out and sit beside him. “I thought things were bad with them.”

“Not exactly bad with them. Just the situation.”

“What situation? I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”

Rafe hadn’t. He had kept things nice and simple when people asked why he came to America when he was part of a titled family. The hunters he had been living with for the last couple of years knew of his title, which Rafe was fine with—he doubted he would have used it again—but he never gave a straight answer as to why. He didn’t want people looking at him and believing that he could have killed someone.

He was sure that he hadn’t. But his mind kept playing tricks on him.

“Rafe?” Charlie pushed. “I said I would come with you to keep you company and in case you needed someone on your side. But I can’t go in without knowing what’s going on. You should tell me what happened.”

“Promise you’ll let me finish before making up your mind?”

“I made up my mind about you years ago. You’re a strange man, but you’re a good person. Can’t get any better than that from me.”

Rafe grunted.

“You might not think the same when you hear people talking about me.”

“What do they say?”

“That I murdered my friend.”

Charlie blinked.

“You did what?”

“That’s what everyone is saying, and if you had been in there at the time, you would have thought so as well.”

Charlie looked confused.

“Now you’re not making sense.”

“I can’t make sense of it myself.” Rafe looked down at his hands. “We were out hunting. I had just found out that my friend Richard was also courting the woman I loved. And he didn’t seem to care. I was angry, and I had hit him. But I apologised later on. At least, I think I did.”

“You think you did?”

“I’m sure it happened. I’ve got a memory of it.” Rafe shook his head. “But it’s very flimsy. I woke up after hitting my head on something, and it knocked my senses around. Even now, years later, I don’t know if it’s something that really happened or something I concocted to make myself feel better knowing I wouldn’t have killed my friend.”

Charlie listened to this in silence. Rafe didn’t like it when he was silent for so long; he was one of those people who needed to take everything in before making a decision. It did make people around him squirm, Rafe included.

“How did your friend die?”

“Gunshot wound to the head. We were out hunting, so it could have been an accident. But the fact we were fighting beforehand, and people saw me strike him, not to mention the blood on the rifle in question and myself….” Rafe swallowed.

“People believed I killed him. Within a day, everyone knew about it. And they all had the same opinion. People wanted me to go to the gallows or to be shipped off to the penal colonies. Something I deserved. But my parents arranged for me to take a one-way ticket to America, and the agreement was I would never come back. Otherwise, they would have me arrested and hanged. I didn’t know what else to do, so I took it.”

“So, that’s why you ended up in the wilderness with a lot of boring old men with no lives outside of work.”

“I’ve never seen you as a boring old man. Grizzled, yes, but not boring and old.”

Charlie chuckled, running a hand over his bald head.

“Thank goodness for small mercies. And now they’ve managed to secure a way for you to come home.”

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