"You don't have to come with me, I know you have a lot on your plate," The Marquess of Lindsey smiled at Raphael, taking a pointed look at the fact that he was still in his clothes from last night. Raphael had been awake all night searching through every nook and cranny in Thomas' home, finding heaps upon heaps of coded documents. Thomas had used so many different ciphers that Raphael's head had begun to spin from the effort it took to decode even one page. He badly needed a reprieve.

Getting on Rothbury's last nerve sounded like a welcome activity. Rafe had picked out his most ostentatious emerald earring, along with a large gold ring with emeralds set in it just for the express purpose of irritating the Duke with his unorthodox attire.

"No, just let me get dressed. I have already told the Rothburies to expect us." Then he leaned in and winked at his father. "And between you and me, the Duke can't stand me so I try to force myself on him whenever I can."

The Marquess shook his head in amusement and then turned as he heard eager footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Jane!" The Marquess beamed as he lifted his hands and signed clumsily as he spoke. Jane dipped into a sweet little curtsy and ran over to hug him, giving Raphael a shy smile. "Did you buy some pretty dresses today?"

Jane began to giggle, then reached into her pocket to take out a notebook.

That is not how you say dress. But yes, I got some very nice ones. Mama said I should thank you.

"You are very welcome my dear," Lindsey patted the girl on her head as he shot Rafe an apologetic look. "I hope you don't mind I invited Jane on our picnic with the Rothburies, I thought Sylvia could use a little reprieve."

"Not at all. What's this talk about a new wardrobe?"

"I saw poor Sylvia worrying about affording a new set of mourning clothes for Jane when I came down for breakfast, so I may have spun a tale about how you as Jane's godfather had a responsibility to arrange these things. That dear girl, heaven knows I cannot stand to see even a frown on her face. I knew you would not mind, but as you had no knowledge of your own generosity, I will foot the bill-"

"I'll pay for it," he said hastily and with much more force than needed. He could explain why he wanted to be the one to ease Sylvie's worry and care for Jane; he had already been weak where Sylvie was concerned and the incident two nights ago had only made him more vulnerable. "It is no trouble. I'll join the two of you shortly and then let us be on our way. Sylvia won't be joining us?"

Jane giggled as she and the Marquess exchanged a look. "No, she is expecting a visitor."

Jane giggled once more as she scribbled something on her notebook and showed his father, who replied with a wink. Raphael felt oddly uncomfortable at being obviously left out of an intimate joke. At least Jane seemed in better spirits. She had been incredibly frightened the first night, not wanting to be left alone at all. And still, she could not recall what had exactly happened in the study. And since she had been unable to see or hear anything from the chamber, she could not even tell them if there had been anyone else in the room with Thomas.

Their best lead was a dead end, but Raphael was trying not to let the frustration get to him.

He massaged his weary neck and left to change.

A while later the three were off to meet the Rothburies at Hyde Park, marking his father's debut in polite society. Or whomever of them remained in the frigid cold of November. Still, it was the fashionable hour and the sun was out and thus Hyde Park it would be. Rafe was a meticulous and careful man and he had devoted his undivided attention to planning his father's return to ton life.

They had no particular ambitions today other than to be seen with one of the most influential families of the ton. That would be enough to send the rumor mill churning, enough to raise interest for when the dowager Duchess of Rothbury would hold an intimate tea party next week. A week after that, the dowager would hold a ball where several women of note would dance with his father, after which he would retire from the affair before many could get the opportunity to speak to him. But naturally, he would slip in the fact that he was in search for a wife; and that ought to be enough to fan the flames of curiosity that they would further exacerbate when the invitations to the Christmas house party would go out.

A short while after they alighted from their carriage, they caught sight of the rest of their party.

The Duke and his mother wore equally severe expressions, though Rafe had to admit that those might just be their default faces. The Duchess, however, greeted them warmly, even managing to coax Jane out from where she was shyly hiding behind his father, offering to introduce her to her own daughter.

"My daughter, Lady Selene Montgomery, and my son, Lord Charles Montgomery," Rothbury performed begrudging introductions as a young girl of about four performed a perfect little curtsy and waved at Jane. Jane waved hesitantly back. Lord Charles was happily squirming about in his grandmother's hold, trying to get close to the newcomers, smiling to reveal his two newly grown teeth as he extended his grubby little hands towards Raphael. The dowager, however, refused to relinquish the babe no matter how keenly he wished to greet Rafe.

"Hello, Miss Heartwood. I am Lady Selene, but you may call me Selene if you wish," the young lady walked up to Jane and extended a hand which Jane took a little hesitantly. Though the child was several years younger than Jane, she possessed a self-assurance that Jane did not. All of a sudden Raphael felt fiercely protective. If Rothbury's snooty brat dared to say one single word to make Jane feel unwelcome, he would make things very uncomfortable for the Duke. Orchestrate a financial loss or two. Ethical? No, but he had no interest in being reasonable when it came to his family. "I have brought us paints and crayons, do you like paints?"

Jane nodded enthusiastically, but she turned to his father for approval, which he gave with a reassuring smile.

Raphael watched his father give a small warning to Lady Selene about Jane's condition. He explained patiently as Jane watched him with gratitude and affection in her eyes.

"Now, Jane can read your lips, but you must be careful not to speak too fast or she won't understand," The Marquess told the girl, and then at her obvious confusion began to explain what reading lips meant.

He was.....very good with Jane. And given the conversation he had with Sylvia about worrying about the lack of masculine influence in Jane's life coupled with his father's observation on how Sylvia might suit him as a bride was making him feel.....slightly ill.

Completely unrelated to that, he needed to get his father married off immediately. So that he could settle down and be happy.

With an age-appropriate woman.

"Not to worry! I am very good with reading, just ask Papa," Lady Selene stood a little taller, looking expectantly at her father for praise. "We will have no issue speaking whatsoever! Come, Miss Heartwood or may I call you Jane?" At Jane's enthusiastic nod, she beamed. "Jane it is, then! Come, I will show you all the new colors that Mama bought me yesterday!"

Rothbury stared at the piece of paper in his hands, fighting to keep his expression in check as Raphael and the Duchess howled with laughter.

"What a nice portrait you've made of me, dearest," he finally managed an insincere smile, pointing to the angry-looking fellow on the page, two dark lines drawn in place of the eyebrows to replicate a frown. Right next to him was a drawing of the Duchess; who had been drawn as a fairy princess with a lovely smile. "And your mother....she looks very lovely. If she is a princess, why am I not a prince?"

"Because you're a Duke, Papa," the child replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And a Duke must be responsible and serious. I made you look as responsible as you are!"

"Well done, my dear, you have the makings of a great artist. I say, I can barely tell the difference between picture and reality," Raphael grinned at the scowling Duke, who rather did resemble his caricature at the moment. 

Their little picnic had the intended effect; they were rather the center of attention, their seating of choice had been in a well-trafficked area, after all. Raphael would have considered it a success, in spite of the fact that young Lord Charles had fallen quite in love with Raphael's earring and had thrice tried to tug it right off his earlobe. 

It would have been a success even if people had not come to introduce themselves, which they had. The most notable of these was the Countess of Newcastle, along with her very, very accomplished daughter (Or so the Countess had reminded them every two sentences) as well as her widowed stepdaughter. The older sister stood protectively beside the younger one, seeming like a dark-haired wraith in comparison to the sunny, blonde debutant. Raphael observed the fresh-faced girl, probably not a minute past twenty dressed in a pretty pastel and the stark contrast she posed to her half-sister, who was easily closer to forty than thirty, with a sharp jaw and a sharper nose, dressed in a sedate grey gown. The two could not be more different; where the younger was eager to please and friendly, the older was oozing judgment and distaste. She held her chin high as if it were a personal affront that she was being subjected to his father's company.

Raphael bit his tongue with great effort, his mind already cataloging everything he knew about the Newcastles; the title was old and prestigious, though an impoverished one due to some poor planning on part of the old Earl, leaving the current Newcastle desperate to get both of his daughters off his hands. They likely thought the younger one would be able to entice a ruined but wealthy Marquess to the altar. The Shrew, as Raphael had dubbed the older sister in his head, was definitely too cold and too dour to entice even a half-blind, half-deaf man into conversation. Why, a man might walk away from her with frostbitten extremities.

Raphael fought to calm himself. They would have to face many like The Shrew in the quest to make his father's reentry into society. He couldn't very well begin to contemplate how to maneuver half of London into submission. Well, he could, but not without compromising his efforts on his investigation, which was not even in the realm of possibility.

Shortly after the Newcastles took their leave, their party disbanded. In the carriage, Jane slept with her head on the Marquess' lap, entirely tuckered out from her day of play. She looked so at ease with him that it brought back the earlier discomfort he felt.

"So, that was a success, if I do say so myself," Raphael leaned back, closing his eyes as he suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. "Did anyone catch your interest?"

"The Newcastle woman was interesting," his father admitted after taking a few moments to contemplate. Raphael's forehead pulled down into a frown.

"A bit young, don't you think?"

"No, she seemed old enough," he shrugged casually. "Her sister, on the other hand, looked little better than a child. What was her mother even thinking? She was angling for me to pay them a call as if her very life depended on it. She would have flung that child into my lap if she had her way!"

"The Shrew?!" Raphael scoffed in disbelief. "You liked The Shrew?!"

Lindsey merely chuckled, "She was a bit shrewish, wasn't she? And yet, she was a good-looking thing by far. Yes, I liked her quite a bit. The fact that she was not making eyes at you was certainly another benefit. I had quite underestimated your popularity."

"Really? Her?"

"Really son, I would have thought you knew that half the fun lies in the chase. And it's always the high-strung ones that unravel the most beautifully," It was the Marquess' turn to wink as Raphael felt slightly nauseous. Nothing to turn a man's stomach quite like hearing his father make a sexual innuendo. "Have the Rothburies invite the Newcastles to the tea and house parties. Oh, don't look so horrified, I'm not saying I'm proposing tomorrow, but I felt something today. I am merely interested to see if that something has potential for more."

Ah.

Raphael was more than familiar with that something. It made itself known every damn time he was with Sylvia Heartwood for more than five minutes.

Before he could wonder why the fact that his father was free to pursue the idiocy of feelings brought out a measure of envy in him, he caught sight of something that had his blood roaring to life.

There was a man in their drive, bent over Sylvia's hand, pressing a kiss upon it. Jealousy and possessiveness roared to life as he practically jumped out of the carriage. But it was too late, by the time Raphael had marched to the gate, the man had already stepped away to receive his mount from a stable hand and had left.

"Who was that?!" He snapped a little more forcefully than necessary as he cornered her in the foyer.

She raised an annoyed eyebrow at him, "A friend."

"Seemed a little overly cozy for a friend," Raphael muttered darkly, casting a look over her attire. "And what the devil are you wearing?"

"I hardly see how that is any of your concern," she said, irritation creeping into her tone.

Raphael scowled at the shabby clothes that were on her person, they looked cheap and itchy. They were just a smidgen small too, pulling tight across her meager chest and her lovely hips. The cuffs did not reach her wrists and if she took a step too fast one could catch a glimpse of her ankle! Her ankle! The outrage of it!

Why, she was practically naked! Out on the street for anyone to see in a state of tragic undress!

"Those look at least ten years old," he grumbled as his father passed him, a sleeping Jane in his arms. His father's expression held a warning but Raphael was not too keen on heading it! What did a man who had been celibate for thirty years know about anything, anyway?

"Because they are!" She snapped, turning to head indoors before he caught her elbow and pulled her back. He wanted to kiss her the bloody tartness off her mouth! "I do not exactly keep a set of 'just in case' mourning clothes! These are from when my father passed."

"Well, this is certainly an unacceptable state of affairs!" Raphael insisted. "Go to Bond Street tomorrow and buy as many as you like. Things that actually fit!"

"With what money?!"

"Mine." And damn if he didn't puff out his chest in a territorial display, a strange satisfaction settling in him at the idea of her wearing something he bought for her. "Go to Bond Street. Money is no object. And do not bloody return until you've ordered at least ten!"

"Do not curse!" She jabbed him with an irritated finger. "And I do not want your charity."

"It is not charity, it is an order!" The words left Raphael before he could stop himself.

Oh dear. From the way her face reddened, he knew he had ticked her off. And of course, he had! He had opened his mouth and somehow managed to make himself sound like Rothbury; which was basically synonymous with high-handed arsehole.

"Where do you think you get the sheer gall, sir?! To tell me what to do?!" She then lowered her voice and hissed, "Do not think one kiss makes you the keeper of me!"

"Sylvie-"

"Especially when a kiss from you is a coin cheaper than a penny, freely given without much consequence!"

He sputtered in shock and horror at the dismissal of his kiss. He should be glad that she harbored no illusions about what sort of man he was. He ought to be relieved that she did not expect anything from him. And yet......

"It is not about the kiss!" He scrambled for a cover. "You are the guardian of my goddaughter, and while you are here, in my father's home, you are representative of my father. If our houseguests are dressing as if they haven't two coins to rub together, it will impact his already precarious public image. It will make people question the sort of company he keeps. You don't want that, do you?"

The fury fled from her face, twin splotches of embarrassment appearing on her cheeks. "I don't want your money."

"Sylvie, it is not charity. Think of it as you doing me a favor," he wanted to take her in his arms and soothe her. Kiss her and reassure her that all he wanted to do was take care of her and make sure she never worried about anything ever again. Which was why he needed to get rid of her as soon as possible. She made him care far too much. "I am sorry for not explaining it rationally as I should have. I am just a little touchy when it comes to my father. He has a difficult journey ahead and I just want to make it as smooth for him as possible. Will you please buy the dresses?"

"I accept your apology," she wrinkled her nose in displeasure, which really only made him want to pitch forward and lay an adoring kiss there. What a sad state of affairs indeed. "I do not want to make things difficult for Lord Lindsey, but you must promise to let me pay you back when I am able."

"Of course," he lied straight through his teeth. "Oh, and do not forget that we must meet Thomas' solicitor on Friday for the reading of his will."