Page 22 of Under the Earl's Wicked Spell

“You wait until you meet my family. It’s going to be interesting.”

“They’re not a bad lot, are they?”

Rafe snorted. He opened the stall door and led the horse inside, Charlie going into the stall next to him.

“Of course not. Slightly misguided sometimes, I suppose, but they’re not bad. You’d actually get on with Sebastien. He’s very down-to-earth.”

“And your father?”

“He’s rough around the edges, but he means well. It just indicates that he’s more worried about appearance and reputation, but he does care about his family.”

After all, he had protected me from being hanged.

Rafe felt a stab of sadness as he began to unbuckle the saddle and take off the bridle. The one person he really wanted to see was his mother. She adored her sons, even when they were being pains that would drive any woman mad.

She was a calming influence on them all, and Rafe knew he was always safe whenever Lady Blackmore was nearby. He had no idea how she managed it, but the Countess could be the voice of reason and the woman not to be crossed if her sons were in trouble.

Nobody spoke ill of her son in her presence.

Hearing from her had made him feel a little better, having that hold on his former life, that link he didn’t want to lose.

Knowing that she was dead was agony. Rafe had cried plenty about it on the journey over. The one person he really wanted to see, and she wasn’t here. That had hurt so much.

If he hadn’t been forced to leave England and start up again in another country, he could have been there at his mother’s bedside, holding her hand as she drew her last breath. Maybe she wouldn’t have been sick at all if he hadn’t been exiled. Maybe she would still be strong and healthy.

Like his father. According to Sebastien’s letter, he was not very well, either. Something his mother hadn’t mentioned in her letters. It was like she was trying to give him good news and not have him worry about them.

It didn’t work. If Rafe had known his parents were ill, he would have come back sooner, not caring if he would have been hanged for returning. He wanted to be there for them.

Now he could, albeit briefly.

“Lord Mowbray!”

Rafe looked up and grinned when he saw Jessop in the doorway to the stall, his mouth open as he stared at him. He approached the young man and held out a hand.

“Good to see you again, Jessop. Stable manager now? Nice promotion.”

“Yes,” Jessop said faintly as he shook Rafe’s hand. “We were not expecting you.”

“As we’ve already found out.” Rafe looked the slim young man up and down. “You’re looking very well. You were a scrawny boy of eighteen when I left, weren’t you?”

“Four-and-twenty now.” Jessop puffed out his chest. “When Mr Robertson retired last year, he offered me the job.”

“Good for him.” Rafe frowned. “But Robertson retired? I didn’t think he was old enough to. He had plenty of years left in him.”

“He said there were unsaid feelings, and he couldn’t stay around any longer. I didn’t ask what he meant.” Jessop gestured at the horse. “Do you want me to finish this for you? There’s no need for you….”

“I’ve been doing this for six years, Jessop,” Rafe chuckled. “I can manage it. But you can help if you’d like. It will make the work go much faster.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Jessop shook himself and then began to help. He quickly brushed down the horses as Rafe and Charlie carried their saddles over to where they were stored, picking out their belongings. They travelled light, and neither barely had anything to their name.

Rafe had sold most of the belongings he had been allowed to take with him so he could buy more suitable clothing and get out of Washington as soon as possible. Just a few days around people of his own social standing had been uncomfortable.

It would have been more uncomfortable once they found out why he was there.

It didn’t take long for the horses to be brushed down and fed. Jessop closed the doors to the stalls and turned to Rafe.

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