CHAPTER 1
LONDON, 1816
Rafe woke, as he often did, with a woman in bed next to him. Nothing at all out of the ordinary in that regard.
No, indeed. It was not the bed that was the problem, though it was a mite small.
Nor was it the aching in his head, which was damned unpleasant, he would not lie.
Nor, even, was it the fact that he was naked without recalling a single moment of the glorious fucking he must have enjoyed the night before. Though, to be fair, that was a disappointment.
The true problem was that he did not know where the floating hell he was.
The room was unfamiliar. Small and spare. That in itself was hardly remarkable. But the carpet was fine. And the windows were large. The light coming in around the edges of the curtains landed in the hair of the slumbering female at his side. Blonde-red, that hair. A truly beautiful color, a combination of fire and gold, like a sunset.
A sunset?
What a sapskull. He hoped he was still cup-shot. ‘Twould be the only excuse for thinking such tripe.
But the woman’s hair was unique and lovely. He didn’t think he had ever seen another shade quite like it, and Rafe had seen a great many ladies with their hair unbound.
He took up a long curl and twirled it around his finger, wondering who she was. Her back was to him, the bedclothes tucked neatly around her as if they were a protective shield. And for the first time, he took note of something else. She had her own counterpane separate from his. That was damned odd. She was swaddled like a babe, as far from him as possible. There was also a pillow separating them.
Hmm.
Rafe pulled back his portion of bedclothes to confirm he was as naked as he felt. Nary a stitch. Had his bedmate belatedly acquired modesty? Careful not to wake her, he gently hooked her counterpane with his forefinger and drew it back to reveal her shoulder.
She wore a crisp-white night rail trimmed with lace. When was the last time he had bedded a woman and she had donned a garment, rolled to the edge of the bed, and placed a pillow between them as if it were a defensive wall?
Grimacing, he tucked the coverlet back into place and then scrubbed a hand over his face. Had he been an arse? Displeased her in some way? Who was she, and where was he?
Suddenly, the haze leached from his mind. Memories tumbled over themselves. The day before had been steeped in madness, quite literally. His brother’s wife, Lady Octavia, had nearly been killed. Together, Jasper and Rafe had rushed to Jasper’s new town house, and they had found Octavia suffered from a slash to the throat. The surgeon had been called, the madwoman responsible for the heinous deed taken away by the charleys, and Rafe had been left watching over his twin nieces, Anne and Elizabeth, along with their new governess. He remembered finding the brandy after his sister-in-law had been patched up.
Surely he had not…
Nay, he would not have been so depraved, he was sure. And if the governess had possessed such unique hair, he would have taken note. But suddenly, he recalled that all her hair had been tucked away in a hideous cap.
Still, he would not have bedded his nieces’ new governess, would he?
Rafe struggled to remember, but his mind was blank as a starless sky. There had been brandy with the governess—Miss Bird was her name, he thought—and then nothing after. The name did not seem right. Not Miss Bird. Something else. Miss Hen?
A scratching sounded at the door. “Miss Wren?”
Christ! The voice belonged to one of his nieces. He could not tell the twins apart, not by sight, and most certainly not by voice. Was it Elizabeth or was it Anne? He supposed it hardly mattered. He could not run the risk of them waking the woman whose bed he was currently occupying. It was imperative she remain asleep until he figured out just what the hell had happened.
Jasper was going to give him a sound drubbing if he had indeed tupped the governess.
Gathering the bedclothes around him like a shroud, Rafe rose from bed. He padded to the door in his bare feet and softly opened it. Two curious sets of hazel eyes looked up at him.
“Uncle Rafe?” they asked in unison.