Nicole Jordan (17 page)

The comment surprised an unwilling smile from Raven. “Since we met, Kell has been at great pains to deny being a gentleman, but I have seen glimpses….”

“Hmmm,” Brynn murmured noncommittally. “A true gentleman would not hare off to his club, abandoning you to your own devices at so crucial a moment.”

Raven shook her head. “I don’t consider it abandonment in the least. Kell has done enough. He helped me stave off the worst of disaster and saved my reputation from total destruction. I would be imposing to ask for more.”

“Well…” Pursing her lips together for a moment, Brynn then flashed an encouraging smile. “You know we will stand beside you. We will simply have to put our heads together and determine how best to weather the tempest. You cannot remain here stewing all alone. As soon as possible you must resume your usual pursuits. Your morning rides in the park, most particularly. And we’ll make calls together. And we will commandeer Lucian to squire us to evening functions. You cannot be thought of as cowering.”

Raven grimaced. “I have no intention of cowering…although I admit I don’t relish having to show my face in public. I shudder to think of all the witches who are cackling with glee over how far I’ve fallen, now that I am no longer to be a duchess.”

Brynn’s expression turned sympathetic once more. “Raven, I am truly sorry. I know how much your having a title meant to your mother.”

Summoning a bravado she didn’t feel, Raven shrugged. “It cannot be helped now. There is no use feeling sorry for myself. There may even be some advantages to my ruination.” Her mouth twisted ruefully. “Now I needn’t endure all those interminable entertainments that Halford would have expected me to attend. And a married woman has much more freedom. Being the mistress of my own household will be far preferable to living under my aunt Catherine’s thumb.” Raven hesitated. “What worries me more is the danger I may have subjected Kell to. Halford is furious at him as well as me.”

“I can imagine,” Brynn said wryly. “But surely it will blow over in time.”

“I’m not so certain. Halford says he means to ruin my husband.”

“Indeed? Well, that might prove more difficult than he supposes, with us as your allies. Lucian’s consequence is formidable enough to contest Halford’s, even if mine is not.”

“Brynn…I cannot let you become involved in my difficulties. You have enough to worry about at the moment.”

Lucian’s occupation as a spymaster had recently entangled them both in dangers that had nearly proved fatal. And with one of Britain’s foremost enemies still at large, a brutal traitor named Caliban, their lives were still at risk. Lucian never allowed Brynn to go anywhere without at least two bodyguards in attendance, Raven knew.

But her friend merely arched a delicate eyebrow. “You cannot possibly think we would desert you.”

“No, of course not. But I don’t like to burden you with my troubles. And even your support may not make any significant difference to my situation.”

Brynn shook her head. “Your ordeal must have scattered your wits more than you realized. You don’t sound at all like the Raven I know. Do you truly mean to give up and allow the ton to force you to live as an outcast?”

For a moment Raven stared. Then for the first time in two days she managed a laugh. “You are right, Brynn. Forgive me.” She shook her head. “I was allowing myself to wallow in defeat, wasn’t I?” Her chin rose with renewed resolve. “But the war is not over, and I have not been routed yet.”

Brynn gave a satisfied smile. “No, certainly not.”

“I assure you,” Raven added, a defiant smile claiming her own mouth, “I won’t be forced to live as an outcast. I vowed long ago that the ton would accept me, and I have strived too hard to abandon the fight now.”

Chapter

Nine

The scandal was the talk of the town and showed no signs of abating.

True to her word, however, Brynn did everything in her power to martial her significant resources on Raven’s behalf, proving the point that in times of crisis, one learned who one’s true friends were.

Raven resumed her early morning rides and accompanied Brynn everywhere during daylight hours, paying calls and indulging in shopping expeditions and attending lectures and museum exhibits, merely to be seen in public. But she refrained from attempting anything more ambitious just yet, prepared to bide her time till the moment was right.

It was wiser, for example, to avoid Hyde Park at the fashionable hour of five, when the cream of society congregated to see and be seen. And she delayed braving any glittering evening functions, where the savage horde waited to devour her like a swarm of locusts. She had violated society’s unforgiving rules with a vengeance, and her battle plan had to be carefully executed if she had any hope of winning.

Still optimistic, Brynn was planning a ball to celebrate Raven’s nuptials. Lady Wycliff was determined to bully the haute ton by sheer force of will into overlooking Raven’s fall from grace. Yet all but the most courageous or reckless souls shunned her; they simply weren’t prepared to make an enemy of the illustrious Duke of Halford for the sake of a mere Mrs. Lasseter.

Not surprisingly, Raven found loneliness her chief enemy over the course of the next few days. Her maid, Nan, joined the servant staff at her new home, as did O’Malley. And she had visits by her grandfather and her great-aunt, although Lady Dalrymple came primarily to scold.

But there was little sign of Kell. He returned home very late each night and left for his club each morning while Raven was riding. And although they shared a dressing room, they had separate bedchambers.

Such arrangements were not unusual, of course. Some husbands and wives of the beau monde barely exchanged civilities day to day. And Raven desired nothing more than to pick up the pieces of her life without a notorious husband to send her tenuous future spinning into further disarray.

But there was one obvious drawback in this case. They were supposed to be in love. And if her new husband appeared to be avoiding her, their story would be exposed for the sham it was.

Apparently Kell had not forgotten about her entirely, however. Upon his authorization, his solicitors met with those of her grandfather and drew up a contract that would allow Raven to retain her independence and tie up her modest fortune for any children she might have.

Not that there would be any children…

Raven never discussed that particular subject with her grandfather, but from the comments he let slip, Lord Luttrell was more troubled about her potential offspring than the scandal itself.

“I want my line carried on, my dear,” the earl fretted, “even if I likely won’t live long enough to see it. And I dislike thinking that my great-grandchildren will have the blood of a murderer running through their veins.”

Raven could do little to reassure him.

Her wicked friend Lord Wolverton was the only person who could satisfy any measure of her curiosity about her husband. Raven accompanied the marquess on a drive in his curricle one afternoon so it could be seen that he hadn’t deserted her. Her riding with him in an open carriage fell within the acceptable rules of behavior, as long as they remained constantly in public view.

Dare was every inch a nobleman: tall, lithe, and fair-haired, but a rogue through and through, with a magnetic, sinful smile that could scorch the coldest of female hearts. Yet his usual laughing demeanor was noticeably absent when he explained to Raven what little he knew of Kell Lasseter.

“I encounter him upon occasion. His club is considered the prime hell in London—high stakes but with a sterling reputation for honest play. And I fence with Lasseter regularly at Angelo’s salle. He’s a superb swordsman; I’ve rarely seen anyone better. But I cannot claim to know him well.”

Dare urged his spanking pair of bays past a snarl in traffic before continuing. “He’s a rebel by all reports. Doesn’t appear to give a damn what anyone says about him. He seems deliberately to shun polite company, although I don’t doubt he would have been accepted if he had put any effort into it. His breeding is good enough on his father’s side at least. But he never lets anyone forget his Irish blood.”

“His mother was Irish, I understand.”

“Yes. And he almost seems to take pride in rubbing our English noses in the fact. Insolent devil.” Dare smiled. “I thought Lasseter rash and foolhardy when he opened his club some four years ago. Had the gall to call it the Golden Fleece. But now I realize it was a cunning strategy. That name was like a flag to a bull—a challenge for the wild bucks who fancied themselves gamesters. They fell all over themselves at the hazard table, trying to best the bank. I wouldn’t be surprised if it made Lasseter a fortune. In any event, the Fleece now has the most select membership of any club in London.”

Dare guided the horses onto a quieter street and set them into a trot. “As for the rumors about him murdering his uncle? I suppose they could be true. Lasseter strikes me as dangerous enough. And I’ve heard a wild tale or two about his profligacy. Frankly, I don’t like to think of you being his wife, puss.”

Raven almost smiled at the irony—a rakehell like Wolverton, the Prince of Pleasure, concerned about profligacy.

“Nick won’t be happy to hear of it, either.” Dare grimaced. “He’ll have my head for allowing you to be abducted and forced to marry against your will.”

Nicholas Sabine was the American shipping magnate and privateer Raven had never been able to acknowledge as her half brother. He’d been her legal guardian for a time, before being charged with piracy by the British navy and sentenced to hang. Upon making his escape, he had come to England in disguise, in pursuit of the wife he’d married in desperation. But with war still raging between their two countries, he couldn’t remain. Nick had taken his beautiful English wife, Aurora, home to Virginia, enjoining his friends Dare and Lucian to take care of Raven.

Both men took their responsibility with deadly seriousness. Yet there was no way they could have anticipated or prevented what had happened to her.

“If I had known what that cur intended…” Dare’s handsome features hardened, and Raven knew he was speaking of Sean Lasseter. “Impressment was far too good for him.”

Raven shuddered at the reminder. She’d only just told Dare about the incident at Vauxhall Gardens last summer when Sean had accosted her. Until then, she herself had considered the younger Lasseter a mere nuisance for dogging her footsteps with his unwanted courtship. And in all fairness, he had paid a great price for his actions that night.

“He suffered a good deal during his impressment, Dare. Perhaps that is punishment enough.”

“Not nearly enough.” Turning his head, Dare focused a surprisingly stern gaze on her. “You aren’t possibly excusing what that bastard did?”

“No, not at all. But I see little point in crying over it or in seeking revenge. I am wed to his brother now and will have to carry on with my life.”

“I mean to have a word with your husband, to make certain he understands the consequences of mistreating you.”

“No, Dare, please, there is no need. I don’t believe he would mistreat me. And I would prefer to deal with this myself.”

He hesitated. “Very well, love. But at the first sign of trouble—”

“You will be the first I call to my rescue, I promise.”

He leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss on her cheek. “See that you do,” he warned. “It will be difficult enough to explain to Nick how I failed him. If I allowed any further harm to come to you, he would have not only my head but other delicate parts of my anatomy that I would prefer to keep intact.”

She dreamed of Kell that night. Not intentionally, the way she did her pirate, but just as powerfully. His sensual passion invaded her body, her mind, her very senses, a dark lover who left her gasping…. Raven woke, struggling for breath, fighting against the feeling of being overwhelmed.

She would have liked to forget her new husband’s very existence, and yet there were appearances to consider. At the very least she would have to produce Kell for the ball being planned in their honor. But she had no opportunity to ask for his escort until five days after their unexpected union, when she returned home from her morning ride.

Upon being informed that Kell was still in his rooms, she went up to her bedchamber, intending to enter his by way of their adjoining dressing room. She walked in on him just as he was emerging from his bath.

Kell froze at her unexpected entrance while Raven instantly came to halt, staring at the spellbinding sight of his naked male body. Her fantasy lover in the flesh.

His splendid anatomy was the stuff of her most erotic dreams. The powerful play of sleek muscles in his arms and shoulders. The crystals of water glistening in the dark hair of his chest, dripping in rivulets down his hard, flat abdomen to his groin…

Her breath caught as her attention was drawn to that masculine flesh that could give such wild pleasure. His virile maleness made her pulse race and her throat go dry. Worse, it made her recall their wedding night and the ecstasy they had shared.

For an instant she saw the same vivid memory flare in Kell’s dark eyes. But then he casually picked up a towel and draped it around his narrow hips and lean flanks.

“Did you ever consider knocking?”

Her cheeks flushed scarlet. “I beg your pardon….” she stammered. “I didn’t realize…I thought…”

He had not yet shaved, and a bluish black shadow darkened his jaw, accenting the groove in his cheek when his mouth curled at the corner. “Did you want something of me, madam wife?”

“It can wait,” Raven croaked.

Backing out, she shut the dressing room door quickly, but the sight of Kell’s magnificent nudity remained imprinted on her mind. It was only hours later that she realized she’d forgotten in the awkwardness of the moment what she had intended to ask him.

When two more days passed and she still had not managed to have a private word with her husband, Raven realized she would have to go to him.

Girding her loins for battle, as the saying went, she set out for the gaming club on St. James Street. She wore a veil and hid behind the anonymity of a closed carriage, and she took O’Malley with her for protection. But still she felt strangely tense as she mounted the front steps to the house and raised the door knocker.