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finger to silence her. “We are not having this conversation in the middle of the night. Go to your chamber and we’ll discuss it in the morning when you are less overwrought.”
    “I’m not overwrought,” she protested.
    “Annabelle,” he said, his tone low now, but perhaps more laced with emotion.
    Her lips thinned, pressing together until they were nearly white with the pressure. She spun around, putting her back to her brother, and marched over to Marcus.
    He straightened up as she reached him, uncertain as to what she would do after this emotional night. But she merely looked up at him, her face beautiful even though she was pale.
    “Thank you again, Mr. Rivers, for your kindness tonight. I shall not soon forget it. Good night.”
    She didn’t look at Rafe as she exited the room, slamming the door behind herself as a final statement on her brother’s refusal to hear her. Rafe shook his head.
    “God save me from intelligent women. I am swimming in them and they are as frustrating as they are fascinating.”
    Marcus smothered a smile, because he knew the duke was angry at him and wouldn’t appreciate it, and waited for Rafe to turn his attention to him. His friend did so almost immediately.
    “Would you care to explain this?”
    Marcus shrugged. “What your sister said is essentially the truth. She overheard your refusal to come fetch Crispin and hurtled herself into my carriage with Abbot. After some threats, I haven’t gotten the whole story from him—”
    Rafe sighed. “I’m certain she threatened him, though.”
    “As am I,” Marcus laughed. “Your sister is a singular lady.”
    Rafe’s eyebrows lifted. “Yes, she is that.”
    Marcus erased the smile from his face. The way Rafe was looking at him, he could see the duke didn’t approve of Marcus and his sister being alone. And why would he?
    “Well, I thank you for sending Abbot to me about Crispin,” Rafe said as he sank into the settee. “I hope you do not judge me as harshly as Annabelle does about my response.”
    Slowly, Marcus joined Rafe in taking a seat. It was an odd thing, to be having this little chat in the middle of the night. Oh, he’d been to Rafe’s townhouse before, of course, but not since his friend had become duke. He hadn’t expected to be invited after that.
    Not that he had been.
    “I understand, as perhaps Annabelle does not, that life is infinitely complicated,” Marcus said. “Crispin has no interest in being saved at the moment.”
    “Do you think he will at some point?” Rafe asked, his tone hollow and empty.
    Marcus thought of Crispin, spoiling for a fight, drunk to oblivion. “I hope so.”
    “As do I.” He shook his head. “But I fear if Annabelle inserts herself into the situation as she did tonight that she will only be dragged down by Crispin’s riptide.”
    “She mentioned she is utilizing your new connections to find a suitable husband,” Marcus said, he hoped mildly. “I admit, I have a hard time picturing her being interested in some titled fop.”
    “Careful, I’m one of those now,” Rafe said, but his bright grin told Marcus he had not offended.
    “No, you are not,” he laughed.
    Rafe shook his head. “My sister is…she may not fully realize what she wants. Or perhaps she simply hopes to deny it. Either way, I would not put her off from her plans. She will either find a man who strikes her fancy or she’ll realize a good many of those with titles aren’t fit to shine her riding boot.”
    “You don’t want her to marry a man of rank?” Marcus asked, surprised.
    Rafe shrugged. “I want her to be happy.”
    Marcus pushed to his feet. This topic suddenly felt far too personal. He didn’t want to know about Annabelle’s plans or Rafe’s concerns about them. It brought him too close and he didn’t want to be close. Especially since he would likely never see Annabelle Flynn again, unless it was in one of those desperate passing moments.
    He really had to stop going to her