Page 60 of The Earl She Once Saved

Verity’s aunt glanced at Rafe, visibly discomposed. “Sergeant is ordinarily better behaved. I hope he did not alarm her.”

“He was greeting her.”

“Yes, of course,” she smoothed her gloves. “He has always been rather decided in his affections.”

Sergeant chose that moment to sit heavily upon the hem.

Rafe looked at him. “I admit that his timing might be improved.”

Verity looked up. Rain shone upon her hair. One dark curl had fallen against her cheek, and Sergeant’s paw rested squarely upon the blue silk. Her hand remained buried in the rough fur at his neck.

Their eyes met, and hers shone with surprise that he had understood there was something here worth defending. The moment lasted only a breath. Then Verity rose, drawing her dignity around her along with the damp folds of her gown.

“I am tired.”

Rafe stepped aside.

“Good night, my lord.”

“Good night, my lady.”

She went into the house. Sergeant followed at her heels, looking back only once to be certain Rafe understood where his loyalties lay.

Rafe watched them disappear.

***

Ezra was still awake. Rafe found him in the study with one lamp burning and a half-finished letter upon the desk. His coat had been discarded over the back of a chair. His cane rested within reach.

He looked up as Rafe entered. “You have returned early.”

“Yes.”

“How scandalous.” Ezra studied him. “Was it terrible?”

Rafe went to the sideboard. “Beyond description.”

“Then I am glad I stayed home.”

“You were wise.”

“I am occasionally.”

Rafe poured two measures of brandy. He handed one to Ezra, then glanced at the letter.

“Who are you writing to?”

“My former colonel.”

The answer made him pause.

Ezra picked up the page. “He has found me a place.”

“In London?”

“A military agent’s office. Correspondence, accounts, claims for half-pay. All the glorious business of war once the shooting has stopped.”

Rafe sat opposite him. “You accepted.”