No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(121)

“Try gaining her trust. Become her friend.”

Christ. The last thing Rafe wanted was to become friends with a woman. But, as he’d told Porter, up was down today and perhaps the last thing he wanted was the thing he needed.

Or…perhaps he should approach her as though the world truly was upside down.

“Look at the way his eyes lit up,” Jasper said in a mock whisper. “He has an idea.”

“Who would you say is my opposite?” Rafe asked.

“I don’t know.” Neil looked at Jasper. “You mean one of the troop? Guy was quite shy. He stammered every time he tried to talk to a woman.”

Rafe felt a twinge of pain, remembering Guy. He’d died in an ambush during one of their suicide missions. “And I talk to women easily. I talk…”

“Ewan,” Neil said at the same time Jasper said, “The Protector.”

“Of course. I should stop trying to figure out how to seduce this woman. It doesn’t work. If everything I do is wrong, everything Ewan does must be right.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Neil interrupted.

Rafe ignored him. “I should ask myself, what would Ewan do? Better yet. I’ll ask the man himself.” He rose and started for the door.

“Good luck wheedling a half dozen syllables from him,” Jasper said.

Rafe looked over his shoulder. “Good point.” But at least none of those syllables would be about hedgehogs.

If Ewan wouldn’t talk, he’d just have to make the man show him.

*

“That’s her,” Rafe said, pointing across the park to where Lady Ravensgate and Miss Fournay strolled. Miss Fournay certainly did not look like a spy in her apple-green walking dress and matching spencer and parasol. She was beautiful—much more so in the bright daylight than the yellow gloom of candlelight. The sunny day brought out the pink of her cheeks and the glints of gold in her hair. “The one on the green,” Rafe said, since Ewan hadn’t made any indication he knew who Rafe meant.

Ewan nodded. Rafe waited. And waited. In a moment he would have to rise from the bench and follow her, as she and Lady Ravensgate were moving out of sight. “Do you have anything to say?” Rafe prodded.

“You dragged me away from the studio for this?” Ewan and Draven were joint owners of a boxing studio. As it opened recently, it had nothing like the reputation of Gentleman Jackson’s, but Rafe had no doubt Ewan would win the hearts and minds of the pugilism enthusiasts in no time. For his part, Rafe could think of other pursuits far more enjoyable than taking a swing at another man in a ring. But Ewan Mostyn, otherwise known as the Protector, was big and brawny with platinum blond hair and a square jaw. If ever a man had been born to smash sculls, it was Ewan.

“I should think you would thank me for taking you out into the fresh air and sunshine. It’s a fine day, and that’s a rare thing.”

Ewan continued to glare at him.

“I will have you back to knocking men’s brain boxes loose in no time. I simply want your opinion.”

Lady Ravensgate and Miss Fournay had paused to speak with an older woman, the wife of a Cabinet member, if Rafe was not mistaken. The exchange looked innocent enough, but who knew what state secrets Miss Fournay might be stealing?

“Why?” Ewan asked.

“I thought I explained all this, old boy.”

“Explain again.”

Rafe sighed. “As I told you, the world is upside down.”

“This time make sense.”

Rafe scowled at him, which had absolutely no effect on Ewan. “I can’t make sense because the world makes no sense.”

“You are giving me a headache.”

“No, that’s from all the skull smashing. And since your brain is probably scrambled, let me be brief. Up is down, right is left, and if I can’t change the world, I’ll trick it. Which means, obviously, I must become you.”

“Obviously.”

“And so you must tell me what you would do in…well, in your place.”

“I do not have to be you?”

“No. Why would you be me?”

“Thank God.”

“Ewan, pay attention. There is the chit. What would you do right now?”

“Go back to the studio.” He started to move away, but Rafe grabbed his large arm and pulled him back. Rather, Ewan allowed Rafe to pull him back.

“What would you do about Miss Fournay?”

“Nothing. I’m married.”

“Yes, but what if you were me?”

“I’d probably kill myself.”

Rafe was about to pull his hair out when he caught the quick smile on Ewan’s lips. The man was toying with him. One could never tell with Ewan. He was so stone-faced. No doubt he was enjoying frustrating Rafe. Rafe tamped his annoyance down. “Fine. Don’t help me.”

Ewan tipped his hat and started to walk away, back toward the corner where they had exited the hackney.

“I’ll have Draven order you to attend the next soiree with me.”

Ewan stopped.

“Or perhaps my next engagement is the opera. I know how you enjoy the opera.”

Ewan walked back. “Do it and I will squeeze the air from your throat and crush it with one hand.”

“Tell me how to approach her. Nothing I have done has worked.”