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“And on top of it all, after everything you have endured, you are a good man.”

He scoffed.

“None of that,” she said sharply, and his eyebrows lifted. It was the voice of a reprimanding mother. And something about it made his chest go soft and brittle all at once. “I know about your foundling home. I know how you care about ensuring this estate is run smoothly and efficiently, with your tenants well taken care of. And, while you may be…promiscuous…I know you don’t abuse your partners.”

He shot her a skeptical look. One she returned with a smirk.

“Do you think we ladies don’t talk? Goodness. How they all titter over my stepson. I’ve heard one too many whispers I wish I’d never been subject to.”

Heat hit his cheeks. Bloody hell.

She snorted—somehow gracefully. “It gave me hope. That the Duke hadn’t…”

Turned Rafe into his own image. That was the thing: his father had known Rafe would never be able to be like him. He’d tried, but it’d become clear Rafe had been too frail, too timid, too meek. All he was ever going to be was a failure.

And that was when Rafe had held no more use for him.

Just like Rafe’s mother when she’d borne no more children after Rafe.

“I know you have much that will occupy your time while you’re here, but if it is something you can handle, I’d love to spend time getting reacquainted. Or perhaps meeting each other truly for the first time.”

Rafe swallowed hard. He nodded, all he was capable of.

“And perhaps you can get to know Sebastian. He could use a man’s influence. A good man’s influence.”

Rafe was the last person who should act as mentor. He had nothing to offer a young man. Nothing of substance.

“It was lonely for him growing up here,” she said softly.

Acid coated Rafe’s tongue. “Better lonely and safe.” As though Rafe hadn’t been lonely? Lonely and beaten—in every sense of the word. His father had tried so bloody hard to break him. And succeeded. Just not in the way he’d hoped. He’d wanted Rafe broken, then rebuilt into the monster he’d always envisioned his heir becoming. Instead, all Rafe had become was broken.

“He’s a good boy. Has a good heart.”

Rafe scoffed. “Is that why he was fucking my steward?” He snapped his mouth shut. Shite.

Abigail’s eyes widened, and she blinked at him. “I…beg your finest pardon.”

He forced down his growl of frustration. He hadn’t meant to let that slip. He was so bloody tired. So bloody drained. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I came across Lord Sebastian yesterday when I stopped in to meet with my steward. He…made it clear of his feelings for Miss Dawson. He was proprietary. I’ve seen it a million times. He was marking his territory.”

Abigail coughed. Or was she choking? He frowned. No. She was…laughing? She waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh heavens. That is something I never thought I’d hear.”

She took a moment to compose herself, her cheeks pink with amusement. Rafe couldn’t fathom what was so comical.

“Sebastian has no…amorous feelings for Miss Dawson. My son is eighteen, Raphael. And Miss Dawson, if my memory serves, is eight-and-twenty.” She arched a brow.

Rafe blinked at her. “I fail to see your point.” When he was eighteen, he’d been sleeping with women much older than eight-and-twenty.

Her brows pinched. “Oh dear. All right. Let me put it this way. After your father passed…things changed here. For the better. It was like the thick smog that had suffocated the estate finally cleared. We are friendlier with our staff than most dowager duchesses and second sons typically are. Because we all felt that relief. We were all victims.”

Rafe grimaced.

“It was after the duke passed that Mr. Dawson began bringing Theodora around. Sebastian latched onto her from the start. He was so starved for friendship. For companionship. He was eight? Nine? At the time. She is like a sister to him, in every way except for blood.” She paused and leaned forward. “A sister.”

Rafe steeled himself against the relief washing over him, doing his damnedest not to let it show. A sister. Thank the bloody gods.

“So… Miss Dawson…”

Rafe really didn’t like the knowing way Abigail’s lips were tilting at the corners.