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things?” Annabelle repeated in confusion, but before they could discuss the subject further, the carriage turned into Rafe’s gate and slowed.
    “Damn it,” Rivers muttered under his breath as he looked out the window.
    “What is it?” Annabelle asked.
    “I just hate being right sometimes,” he sighed.
    Before Annabelle could say anything or look out the window herself, the door to the carriage was pulled open and Rafe’s face appeared there. His very dark, very angry face.
    “Good evening, Annabelle, Rivers,” he said, obviously through clenched teeth. “Why don’t you two join me in my study? It appears we have much to discuss.”
     

     
    Marcus followed behind Annabelle and Rafe, watching the way her hips twitched beneath her gown. How he had come to be in this situation, he really couldn’t say. One moment he was minding his business, trying to do the right thing, the next he had been descended upon by a woman who seemed determined to drive him mad with her presence.
    This was why he avoided emotional entanglements.
    Rafe opened his study door and ushered them all inside. He said nothing as he crossed the room and poured himself a brandy. He glared at Marcus, then poured him one too.
    As he crossed the room to hand him the drink, Rafe said, “An hour ago, a servant came to my chamber, interrupted my slumber and nearly woke my wife. Apparently he had seen something he was loathe to share and had been hemming and hawing about it ever since. Do you want to know what he saw?”
    To Marcus’s surprise, Annabelle rolled her eyes in response.
    Rafe continued, “He saw you , dear Annabelle, sneaking into a carriage and disappearing in the middle of the night. And now here you are. Do either of you want to explain what the hell is going on?”
    Marcus might have said something in an attempt to mitigate Rafe’s anger toward Annabelle, but she gave him no chance. With no thought for consequences, Annabelle hurtled forward and stood toe to toe with her brother.
    “Mr. Rivers sent his man to you tonight, asking for your help when it came to Crispin, and you refused him,” she said, her body all but vibrating with the accusation.
    To Marcus’s surprise, Rafe turned his head, his cheeks darkening not with anger, but with shame and pain.
    “You don’t understand,” he said softly.
    Annabelle glared at him. “No, you don’t understand because you didn’t go there. I did, Raphael. I saw him there, and he is not well.”
    Rafe scrubbed a hand through his hair. There was no denying the struggle he seemed to be having when it came to Crispin. And although Marcus generally stayed far, far away from these kinds of domestic issues, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the duke. He had seen the brothers together, many times. He knew how much they cared for each other.
    “Annabelle, I have spoken to him numerous times over the past six months. He has refused my help and my counsel over and over again,” Rafe explained. “Until he is ready to take it, chasing him all over London and extracting him from his consequences will not urge him to change.”
    Annabelle’s face twisted with pain so powerful that Marcus felt it in his gut. Her brown eyes sparkled with tears, but she all but vibrated with anger.
    “You cannot abandon him. Mr. Rivers might be kind enough to offer him sanctuary, but others will take advantage of him. He could be killed, Rafe.”
    Rafe shot Marcus a look, but then refocused on his sister. “You think I don’t know that? You think it doesn’t turn my stomach and keep me up at night during what should be the happiest year of my life?”
    His raised voice and pained expression stopped Annabelle. She stared at him, their faces mirroring images of worry and fear.
    “Please don’t abandon him,” she whispered.
    “I’m not abandoning him,” Rafe said, his voice rising again. “Goddamn it, Annabelle!”
    She fisted a hand at her side and opened her mouth to speak again, but Rafe lifted a