Page 87 of The Earl She Once Saved

“Before he came near you.”

The certainty in his voice caught her off guard. She had told him almost nothing of her marriage, but perhaps her dread at Roland’s return revealed what her silence had not.

Her fingers stopped upon Sergeant’s head. Rafe felt the distance between them alter. Then she looked away.

“You should rest.”

He understood the dismissal. He ignored it. He crossed the room.

“Walk with me.”

Her hand paused again.

“In the garden,” he added. “Before you object, I require air, not a forced march.”

“You require your bed.”

“Then come and prevent me from overexerting myself.”

She looked up. The answer was almost a refusal. Then Ezra appeared at the open doors leading onto the terrace, carrying three battledores beneath one arm and a shuttlecock in his hand.

“A walk?” he said. “How tedious.”

Rafe frowned. “Where did you find those?”

“In a cupboard.”

“You were searching the cupboards?”

“I was searching for entertainment. Edgeworth conceals it very thoroughly.”

He pressed one battledore into Rafe’s hand.

Rafe looked down at the little parchment-covered racket. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I have only just escaped my bed.”

“Then you are well rested.”

Verity’s mouth moved. Rafe saw it. Ezra tossed her the second battledore. She caught it neatly.

“Lady Edgeworth?”

“I have estate business.”

“So does Rafe. Neither of you is presently doing it.”

Sergeant rose and shook himself.

Ezra pointed toward the lawn with his cane. “Even the dog agrees.”

Sergeant had never agreed with anything except food, Verity and his own comfort, but he trotted toward the terrace. Verity looked at Rafe. He turned the battledore in his hand.

“Ten minutes.”

“You will sit if you become dizzy,” she instructed.