Ecstasy

Chapter Thirteen

Raven couldn’t regret her underhanded means of forcing Kell to cooperate in his own salvation, yet she worried he wouldn’t take their wager seriously. Determined to press her case, she canceled her ride the next morning and instead surprised her husband by joining him in the breakfast room.

Kell briefly looked up from reading The Morning Chronicle, appearing disgruntled that she would invade his domain. After a terse greeting, he returned to perusing the news.

Raven didn’t let his displeasure distress her. She filled her plate from the sideboard and took the seat at his right hand, addressing him as she spread strawberry jam on a muffin.

“I spoke to Dare and Lucian yesterday about our scheme to redeem your reputation. They intend to do their utmost to help, now that you have agreed to participate.”

The sound Kell made was something between a grunt and a sigh. “I know. They attended my club last evening.”

“Did they?” Raven smiled in relief. “I was certain I could count on them.”

She took a bite of coddled egg and studied Kell. He was dressed informally again with no cravat, but his rust-colored coat molded his muscular shoulders to perfection, while the pristine white of his shirt heightened his dark good looks. She was growing accustomed to his scar, but his unabashedly sensual appeal still had the power to unsettle her.

Chastising herself, Raven mentally searched for a subject to distract her thoughts from her husband’s dangerous masculinity.

“I have been wondering, Kell, about the climbing boy I met at your club yesterday. How is Nate doing?”

He didn’t look up from his paper. “Well enough.”

“I’ve been thinking…”

“That strikes me as hazardous,” Kell murmured, his tone dry.

Raven bit back a smile. “It seems to me that a gaming hell is no place for a boy to be raised.”

Kell did lift his gaze at that, regarding her intently over the paper. “You consider yourself an expert on how boys should be raised?”

“No-and I intended no criticism. I just thought that perhaps Nate would be better off living here. In your house, I mean, rather than at your club.”

His eyes held hers in a level stare. “You would actually consider taking in a wretch from the streets? You don’t fear he would purloin the silver or murder you in your bed?”

“Not in the least,” she responded, surprised he would ask such a question.

“Most ladies would.”

“Well, I don’t. And I should like to help.”

When Kell finally answered, his tone had lost its gruff edge. “It is generous of you to offer, but Nate has come to know the staff at the club, and I’m certain he would feel less apprehensive there than he would here. In any case, he will remain at the club only a few more days. I’m taking him to a foundling home once his bruises heal.”

Raven frowned. “I have heard some unpleasant tales about foundling homes. About the cruel lives their inmates lead.”

“Not all such places are cruel. And it will be best for Nate to be around boys his own age and to learn a trade. The lad is sharp-witted for all that he seems so cowed.”

“But it must be frightening for him to go to live in new surroundings.”

“This home is not so frightening,” Kell replied. “The headmistress is a jovial sort and gives out gingerbread to the newcomers to make them feel welcome.”

“I should like to see that,” Raven said thoughtfully. “Would you consider allowing me to accompany you when you deliver Nate there?”

Kell’s eyes narrowed with something like suspicion. “Why would you wish to?”

“Because I have little to occupy my time. And I would like to do something worthwhile, rather than moping around here, feeling lonely and sorry for myself. Please? I promise I won’t make a nuisance of myself or cause you any trouble.”

Reluctant amusement lit his eyes. “Your middle name is trouble, vixen. But if you seriously want to go…”

Raven gave him a brilliant smile. “I do.”

“Very well. Now will you permit me to finish my breakfast in peace?”

“Certainly,” she agreed, “if you will hand me a page or two of the paper. Are you always such a bear in the morning?” she couldn’t resist asking when he had complied.

Kell’s stare turned to one of exasperation. “Might I remind you that you were supposed to be a wife of convenience, not a termagant?”

Forcibly Raven swallowed her amusement and applied herself to the society page, content to retreat after her small victory.

Four days later she found herself accompanying Kell and Nate on the drive from London to Hampstead, where the Charity Home for Indigent Boys was located.

Nate at first seemed overwhelmed by the luxurious interior of the coach and by the unfamiliar sights of the passing countryside. He sat rigidly, not daring to speak as he stared out the window, yet he was obviously listening avidly to every word Kell said.

It amazed Raven to watch Kell reassure the boy.

“If you don’t like the place, you don’t have to stay. But there will be other lads your own age. And you will learn a trade that will allow you to be your own master some day.”

“Not a sweep?” Nate asked in a small voice.

“No, never again. But you will have to learn to read and cipher.”

His nose screwed up in distaste. “Why must oi learn to cipher, sir?”

“Because if you can calculate numbers, you won’t have to toil at physical labor. You could be a tailor’s apprentice or shopkeeper’s assistant or perhaps even a clerk. And you will be less likely to be fleeced by merchants who are eager to cheat you out of your hard-won earnings. Trust me, when you are at the beginning of your career, you can’t afford to forfeit even a penny.”

With a sleight of hand, Kell pulled a penny from behind the boy’s ear and presented it as a gift.

Nate stared wide-eyed in wonder and delight.

“Here, lad,” Kell added, fishing in his pocket for a small purse. “You will need a little spending money to see you through your first weeks.”

The boy was speechless, while Raven felt tears sting her eyes. Doubtless such kindness was rare in Nate’s young life.

When they arrived at the charming village of Hampstead and dismounted from the coach, the boy clung to Kell’s hand. The large, mellow brick manor covered with ivy looked much like a country gentleman’s residence, but behind the house stood outbuildings and fields more appropriate to a farm, with chickens and pigs and grazing livestock in view.

Much to Raven’s relief, the headmaster who greeted them seemed kind and intelligent. And his wife was indeed a jolly soul who won Nate over with gingerbread and soon had him answering gentle questions about his origins.

Nate knew nothing of his father, but apparently his mother had been a Covent Garden doxy who’d sold him into the hellish life of a sweep when he was five. And he was clearly terrified of the man who had been his master.

Mrs. Fenton assured him solemnly that no one here would beat him or force him to climb anything except perhaps a ladder to the haylofts in the barns. Eventually she introduced Nate to a half dozen other boys who took him off to tour the outbuildings, while Mr. Fenton explained the workings of the place to Raven.

The home housed perhaps forty orphans, many of whom were former beggars, cutpurses, or climbing boys. They slept in dormitory rooms according to age and were required to do daily chores around the farm, but they spent several hours each day in the schoolroom and the remainder apprenticing with masters of various trades.

When Mr. Fenton asked what trade Nate might be best fitted for, Kell answered thoughtfully. “He can’t read a word, but he shows an aptitude for mathematics. He can accurately tally the counters at my gaming tables.” Kell gave a wry smile. “He also has a vocabulary that would make a sailor blush. And I should warn you, he isn’t partial to bathing. With some decent food, his scrawny form should fill out in time, but I doubt he will ever be cut out for heavy physical labor.”

“We’ll do our best to make him prosper, sir, God love you,” Mrs. Fenton said.

“I’m certain you will,” Kell replied. “You’ve managed to work miracles with the other poor wretches I’ve brought here.”

The healing miracles had already begun for Nate, Raven realized. When he came running back, his eyes shone with the delights he had seen at this, the first real home he had ever had known. His happiness was so palpable, he might have been in heaven-a happiness that only dimmed a bit when Kell and Raven took their leave.

Kell remained silent until they were seated in the coach on their way back to London. “Well, are you satisfied he isn’t being condemned to a life of cruelty?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I cannot imagine a better place for him.”

It was true, Raven reflected, thinking of the terrible life the boy had led. Recalling that he was a bastard, she felt rather humbled and ashamed of herself for bemoaning her own origins all these years. She had been so much better off than poor Nate. At least she’d had a loving mother, but Nate had had no one until Kell literally hauled him off the streets.

Kell cared a great deal for the boy, that much was obvious. “It was exceedingly good of you to save him,” Raven added.

Kell’s mouth twisted as he shook his head. “I am no saint, if that is what you are thinking.”

“No, I would hardly call you a saint. But certainly a guardian angel. Tell me…” She regarded Kell seriously. “Why would you go to so much effort for a boy you don’t even know?”

He was silent for a long moment. “I suppose because his plight strikes too close to home. I know what it’s like to be helpless. To be on the streets. To be alone and have nothing and no one to turn to.”

She heard the pain in his voice, the loneliness he let her glimpse, the man behind the mask. Regretting having probed such a raw wound, Raven mentally berated herself. “Surely you were never so wretched as Nate.”

“No, but for a time I was just as powerless. I came to despise that feeling. And Nate reminds me of my brother. Sean was his age when we were delivered to the tender mercies of my uncle. I admit it became a compulsion of mine, to rescue any helpless creature that crosses my path.”

“Including me? Is that why you came to my rescue and wed me?”

Kell frowned at her, deliberately trying to discompose her, she suspected. “You are an extremely nosy wife.”

“I suppose I am.”

“I thought you promised not to make a nuisance of yourself.”

“But sometimes I cannot help myself. You may beat me and restrict me to bread and water if that will make you feel better.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned, although his wry smile took the sting out of his words. He leaned back against the leather squabs then, shutting his eyes and effectively dismissing her.

Raven watched him for a moment, marveling at the compassion she’d seen in him. Kell was a hard man, with a brusque temper and unforgiving manner, especially toward her. But she was beginning to suspect that inside, he was closer to melted wax than granite. Clearly he couldn’t bear to see anyone helpless and downtrodden.

It had been Nate’s good fortune to be rescued by Kell. Was she as fortunate?

Uneasily, Raven banished the thought, unwilling to admit that wedding Kell had been anything but misfortune for her.

Tearing her gaze from him, she stared out the window. She would do better to heed the warning voices in her head. If she didn’t take care, she could grow to like Kell far too much, but it was folly to entertain feelings of warmth and admiration toward her unwanted husband.

Kell’s genuine kindness, however, made Raven even more determined to see that he didn’t suffer for her sake. Yet judging by the daily accounts she received from her friends, the progress was not encouraging.

She had hoped that with the Marquess of Wolverton and the Earl of Wycliff promoting her husband’s acceptance into the elite ranks of the ton, Kell at least stood a chance of living down his notoriety. Reportedly, he attended several events with Dare and rubbed shoulders with the prime social leaders, including the Prince Regent himself. Dare also related that the Hellfire League members were patronizing the club regularly.

And yet, as Raven had feared, her friends’ earnest efforts to rally around him were in vain. According to Emma, attendance at the club had fallen to record lows. And the spurious rumors about his gaming hell only worsened.

By the following week, Raven concluded there was only one course open to her-to confront the source of the slander directly.

It took some maneuvering, but she managed to discover through the servants’ grapevine that the Duke of Halford was expected to attend Drury Lane Theater that evening. When she expressed an interest in seeing the play there, both Brynn and Lucian dropped their plans in order to accompany her.

She dressed carefully in an empire waist gown of royal blue velvet that was Halford’s favorite shade, knowing it brought out the vivid color of her eyes, while the low, square neckline showed her bosom to advantage.

Halford was already at the theater when they arrived, seated in a box opposite the Wycliffs’. But he refused even to look at Raven-a deliberate cut, she knew. Half the opera glasses in the theater were trained on her, but she paid no attention to the spectators or to the play. She could not even have said what she saw, her attention was focused so intently on her task.

At the first intermission, when she saw Halford leave his box, she persuaded Brynn to stroll the halls with her. As she hoped, they encountered the duke shortly, but he was surrounded by friends.

Keeping a discreet distance, Raven waited until he left his party. Then taking a deep breath, she stepped forward into his path.

Halting abruptly, Halford raised his quizzing glass, looking at her as if she were a particularly odious species of bug.

She endured his scathing perusal without visibly flinching. “Good evening, Charles.”

“Madam.” He made no effort to bow. “I confess you astonish me, brazenly accosting me in public like this.”

“I presumed this would be my only chance to speak to you,” Raven replied. “No doubt you would have refused to see me had I applied to you in private.”

Raising a mocking eyebrow, Halford looked around them. “I wonder that your husband didn’t accompany you here.”

His very tone was a taunt, but Raven tried to remain calm, not wishing to antagonize him. “My husband is occupied at the moment. He has a club to run, as perhaps you know.”

“Ah, yes.” The duke’s lips curled with contempt. “I recall now that he is a gamester. I should have perceived your presence, since the stench followed you here.”

Raven bit her tongue. “Charles, I only hoped to have a word with you.”

“You may spare your breath, madam. Nothing you have to say could possibly interest me.”

He turned abruptly and left her standing there.

Her determination only rose, however.

Near the end of the play, Raven pleaded a headache and told her friends she intended to take a hackney home. Lucian escorted her below and found her one, but several blocks away, she instructed the jarvey to double back.

He dropped her at the end of the long queue of carriages waiting for the theater patrons. Fortunately most of the coachmen and footmen were hovering together, laughing and dicing and simply trying to stay warm in the frigid night air.

Raven kept to the shadows until she spied Halford’s town coach with the ducal crest emblazoned on the door, then slipped inside, hoping she hadn’t been seen. She was risking fresh scandal with her brazen plan, no doubt; ladies did not closet themselves in closed carriages in order to confront irate noblemen. But she felt she had no choice.

She curled herself in the far corner, in the rear-facing seat, and pulled a carriage rug over her head, praying she wouldn’t be detected until they were under way. Then she lay shivering in the darkness.

It was quite some time before the line of carriages began to roll forward, and longer still before she heard Halford enter his own vehicle. She waited until they were well in motion before pushing off the rug and sitting up. She could barely make out his form across from her.

“Charles?” she murmured quietly.

With a violent start, he snatched up his cane to defend himself.

“Charles, it is I, Raven,” she said hurriedly.

He reached up to rap on the roof, but she leaned forward to grasp his arm, staying him. “Please, I beg you, just hear me out a moment.”

“Are your powers of comprehension defective? I told you, I have no interest in anything you have to say. Now, pray be gone. I want you out of this carriage-”

“Charles, I lied to you,” she said quickly before he could throw her out. “My marriage to Lasseter was not a love match in the least. Merely an act of desperation.”

Her confession made Halford hesitate. “What are you talking about?”

Raven took a deep breath. She could see no other way to gain his sympathy than to tell him the complete truth and throw herself on his mercy. “It was not Kell Lasseter who abducted me. It was his brother, Sean.”

“His brother?”

“Yes. Sean was intent on revenge because I once spurned his suit. But Kell had nothing whatever to do with my abduction and only became involved afterward.”

Halford settled back in his seat, his attention captured for the moment. “I suppose you should explain after all.”

“It is a long story…”

“I’m listening,” he said gruffly.

She told him then about Sean once being her suitor and his accosting her in the Gardens. About his subsequent impressment and his desire for revenge. About his hired thugs violently seizing her when she was on her way to the church to be married.

“Sean rendered me unconscious and drugged me and kept me tied to a bed. I have no doubt he meant to torture me and worse, but Kell Lasseter intervened. He saved me from ravishment, I’m certain. But until that day Kell was a perfect stranger to me.”

“A stranger?”

“Yes. I never saw him before the day of my abduction. He was only protecting me from scandal by wedding me.”

“So you didn’t love him?” Halford asked slowly, his first sign of uncertainty.

“No, not at all.”

“Then why the devil did you lie about making a love match?”

“Because I feared you would call him out otherwise.”

The duke shook his head. “I am still not certain I comprehend. You made me look the fool rather than admit the truth?”

“Would the truth have served any better purpose? Your being jilted for love was humiliating, certainly, but having your betrothed abducted would have been nearly as shameful-and much more dangerous. If you had felt compelled to duel to defend my honor, you might have killed or been killed yourself. I didn’t want that to happen.”

Halford remained silent, giving no indication if he believed her.

“By claiming a love match,” Raven continued, “I stood a chance of salvaging some shred of my reputation. I promise you, Charles, I had no desire to wed anyone but you, but Kell Lasseter was my only option if I hoped to diminish the scandal. As a married woman, I could possibly survive, but without a husband…I was almost certain you would have refused to wed me after my abduction. Yet there was another possibility: You might have felt obliged to honor our betrothal. I could not have let you make that sacrifice. Your duchess should be above reproach, and I was damaged goods.”

He turned his head away, not answering.

“Truly,” Raven pleaded, “I thought it was for the best. It was too late for me. My future was already ruined, and I didn’t want to ruin yours as well.”

“My future was indeed ruined that day, my dear,” he said quietly. “I lost you.”

Raven felt an ache squeeze her throat. “Charles, your heart was never engaged. You never loved me.”

“Ah, but you are wrong. I cared for you a great deal.” He turned back to her. “I wish you could have trusted me.”

She heard the sorrow in his voice, recognized the genuine pain. Her eyes burned with sudden tears. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Charles. I would not have done it for the world.”

Removing his glove, he reached forward and touched her wet cheek. “I think you honestly mean it.”

“Of course I do,” she said, her voice unsteady.

Halford sank back in his seat, observing her in the dim light. “So now you are wed to a notorious gamester.”

“I am making do.” She wiped absently at her tears. “But I owe Lasseter a huge debt of gratitude. He doesn’t deserve your anger, Charles. He only rescued me from becoming a pariah in society. If you must be angry, then please, be angry with me.”

The duke sighed. “I can’t be angry with you, my dear. You were not to blame for what befell you. But I wish you had come to me for help.”

“I’m sorry, Charles, but I didn’t think I had any choice. Can you not understand that?”

“I suppose I can. Very well, then…I should take you home.”

“Charles…” She hesitated, wondering if she could risk asking him for a favor. “I would rather you accompany me elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“To the Golden Fleece.” Raven hastened to explain. “As I said, I owe Lasseter a great deal, but he is suffering because of me. Your accusations have nearly ruined him, Charles. If you would only make a brief appearance at his club, perhaps spend a little time at his gaming tables, it would go a long way to refute the rumors you’ve been circulating about his dishonesty. Please, for my sake, won’t you at least consider helping him?”

“You forget, I don’t gamble.”

“But you could make an exception just this once. I will gladly stake you the funds. A few thousand pounds should be more than adequate. If you could just manage to lose it with good grace-”

“Don’t be absurd.” His tone was stiff but held a wry note. “I can afford to lose a few thousand.”

“Then you will come with me?”

Halford sighed again, this time with exasperation. “I cannot imagine how I manage to let you talk me into the very things I despise.”

Smiling with fervent relief, Raven grasped his ungloved hand and pressed it to her lips in gratitude. “Because you are a wonderful, magnanimous man who believes in doing what is right.”

For the hour of midnight, St. James Street was surprisingly well-populated by revelers and gamesters and swells making their way about town. But there was little traffic passing through the doors of the Golden Fleece.

When Raven and her guest were admitted by the majordomo and escorted to the gaming room, she hesitated, surveying the small crowd with dismay; the number of gamblers was far smaller than on previous nights, she suspected from what Emma had told her. She could only pray that would soon change.

Her heart in her throat, Raven took the duke’s arm and stepped forward, then paused for effect. A hush slowly fell over the room, just as she had hoped; they were the focus of all eyes.

When she spied Kell, her heart took up a rapid rhythm. His expression remained impassive as he unhurriedly moved her way, but she didn’t presume he was pleased to see her, or the Duke of Halford, either.

He came to a halt before them, neither bowing nor greeting them.

Tension hung heavy in the air as the two men regarded each other-combatants sizing up their foe.

Raven took a deep breath and hastened to make the introductions. “Your grace, may I present my husband, Mr. Kell Lasseter. Kell, this is Charles Shawcross, Duke of Halford.”

“Your grace,” Kell said tersely. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit?” His slight emphasis on the word “honor” suggested it was no such thing.

Halford returned a stiff smile. “It seems that I owe you an apology, Mr. Lasseter. Regrettably I have made some unfounded accusations against your establishment, impugning your honesty and your reputation. To my shame, my motives were hardly pure. I confess I was insanely jealous after you won my bride from under my very nose. But I sincerely hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

When Kell’s dark eyes narrowed, Halford turned to glance at Raven. “There, is that adequate, my dear?”

His generous apology was more than she had even hoped for. She might have kissed his hand again, but knew he wouldn’t appreciate such a public display. Nor did she wish to give rise to further gossip.

Instead her lips curved in a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Charles,” she said softly. “I think you must be the kindest man I have ever known.”

Halford’s cheeks took on a slight flush as he returned his attention to Kell. “And you are a fortunate man, Lasseter. I trust you will take good care of her.”

Raven felt Kell’s sharp gaze sweep her before he replied, “I intend to, your grace.”

Glancing around, the duke eyed the hazard table with curiosity. “I am not much of a gambler, but I am willing to attempt it, if I could prevail upon you for some instruction.”

With a single glance, Kell summoned his hostess, who had been watching the exchange along with everyone else in the room. “This is Miss Emma Walsh, your grace. She will assist you in every way possible. And whatever gaming you do will be on the house. If you will excuse me, I should like to have a word with my wife.”

If Halford was put out by being relegated to an underling, he didn’t show it. His bow was all politeness as he acknowledged the beautiful hostess. “I am honored, Miss Walsh.”

Emma returned a pleasant smile. “I would be delighted to show you how hazard is played, your grace, if you will come this way…”

Raven was left alone with Kell and his simmering anger. She nearly flinched as she met his dangerous gaze.

“And just what did you promise your duke in exchange for his apology, dear wife?” he asked in a silken tone.

She stiffened at his insinuation. “I promised him nothing. I simply told him the truth about our marriage, that it wasn’t a love match, and that you were a perfect stranger who saved me not only from your brother, but from the wretched fate of becoming an outcast. It so happens that Halford has a generous nature-more generous than I even hoped. I merely asked him to make a public appearance here, to help refute the rumors that he himself started, but he added the rest.” Her own gaze narrowed. “And you might show him the smallest measure of gratitude. Your club should be safe now.”

She turned on her heel then and walked away, leaving Kell to fume alone.

He didn’t want to show any gratitude toward the duke. It infuriated him to be obliged to anyone, particularly to a man of Halford’s elevated rank. It infuriated him more that a nobleman could wield such power over his life, rousing his dormant sense of inferiority and impotence.

As for his meddling wife…she’d brazenly disregarded his wishes. Kell’s gaze settled upon Raven as she stood with her duke at the hazard table.

Her duke.

His rival.

Kell clenched his fists, jealousy an unexpectedly fierce emotion inside him. As much as he despised admitting it, the sight of them so close together fired every possessive male instinct in his blood-and stirred unwanted images in his mind as well of Raven surrendering to her lover.

It made his blood boil to think of his aristocratic rival touching his wife, enjoying her lovely body, caressing her full, ripe breasts, her long, slender legs. Hell and damnation, he wanted to be the one suckling her rose-hued nipples, stroking her creamy ivory skin, so velvet smooth beneath his hands…

The very thought made his loins ache.

Cursing again, Kell turned away. He had to get hold of himself before he became no better than his brother, filled with lust and insane jealousy, ready to do battle for the tempting Raven Kendrick.

As she absently watched the gaming, Raven was highly aware of her husband’s brooding gaze surveying the crowd. Kell stood to one side, seeming alone even in a room full of people. A breed apart. A rebel.

His smoldering intensity only added to his appearance of isolation, as did the scar that marred the chiseled perfection of his face.

It was no wonder he was considered an outcast, she thought, remembering his almost grudging acceptance of the duke’s apology. Polite society didn’t take kindly to a man who showed so little deference to their rules, and Kell seemed to relish his defiant, black-sheep image.

Raven found it impossible to keep her glance from him. He was remote, enigmatic, notorious. And she was more drawn to him than any man she had ever known.

Was it because at heart, she was something of a black sheep herself? Because she understood what it meant to be alone? Or was it because Kell didn’t want her? Because he was eminently capable of resisting her charms? Or perhaps it was the lure of forbidden danger that she found so potent.

From their first moment together, she’d felt that perilous pull to danger, the breathless thrill of walking a cliff edge. A primal threat that only stirred the restlessness inside her…

Raven shivered. How could she be so enticed by a man who made her feel this vulnerable? So fiercely attracted to one who didn’t need or want her?

Casting another glance at Kell, she suddenly stiffened. Emma Walsh had joined him as he stood on the sidelines. Seeing them with their heads close together aroused a hot sting of jealousy within Raven.

She scarcely noticed when Dare came up to her.

He followed her narrowed gaze for a moment, then said in an amused drawl, “If I were Miss Walsh, I would take great care. You look as if you want to scratch her eyes out.”

Pressing her lips together, Raven dragged her thoughts away from her irksome husband and his beautiful mistress and focused her attention on the marquess. “Have you just now arrived?”

“Yes. I had a prior engagement. A pity,” Dare remarked. “I hear I missed all the excitement. Word has already flown around town about Halford’s public apology. I suppose you orchestrated it?”

“I only asked him to make an appearance here. Halford did the rest.”

“I should have thought your husband would be more pleased.”

“Not Kell,” Raven muttered. “He considers the duke’s gesture charity.”

“Well, a man has his pride. But even so, Lasseter should be grateful to you.”

“He wants nothing to do with me.”

At her morose tone, Dare gave her an assessing look. “And it disturbs you that your husband’s amorous interests lie elsewhere?”

Raven averted her gaze from Dare’s knowing one. “I shouldn’t allow myself to be disturbed, I know. Ours was merely a marriage of convenience. He has every right to keep a mistress, or an entire harem, if he wishes.”

“You could change the situation, puss. I have no doubt you could have Lasseter fawning at your feet if you chose to.”

The image was an appealing one, Raven admitted to herself. She cast Kell another glance. He was watching her intently now, with those dark eyes that could hold her spellbound. Yet there was a decided coolness to his features, even disapproval, Raven noted. Perhaps he didn’t like her associating with the Marquess of Wolverton any more than she liked her husband dallying openly with his mistress.

Forcing her gaze away, she gave Dare a deliberate smile. “I suppose I should apply to you for advice. No doubt the Prince of Pleasure could instruct me on how to keep a philandering husband from straying.”

He laughed. “You don’t need instruction on how to secure a man’s attention. You had half the males in London swooning over you last Season.”

“I’m not sure how I managed that.”

“I can tell you how. Because you were so refreshing. With your frankness and your high spirits, you were unlike every other debutante in existence. A tart lemon ice to their blancmange.”

Raven made a face. “How gratifying to be compared to a vanilla pudding, Dare. And to think I tried so hard to conform.”

“You succeeded admirably, but you still stood out in the crowd.” Dare hesitated. “If you’re serious about keeping your husband from straying, a little effort at seduction would not go amiss.” He glanced toward the hazard table. “Perhaps I should see how Halford is getting along.”

He left her then to stew over his advice.

Raven frowned thoughtfully as she eyed her husband. Did she wish to keep Kell from straying? Did she want to risk a mortifying rebuff?

It would be undeniably brazen to try to seduce him. While her upbringing had been unconventional, she possessed enough ladylike sensibilities to hesitate at such flagrant boldness. And yet she was immeasurably weary of conforming to society’s rigid rules.

Furthermore, she was not the unsoiled virgin with a spotless reputation to protect that she’d been a few short weeks ago. In that sense, the scandal had been liberating. She had much more freedom now from the stifling strictures of the ton, the trivialities of London drawing rooms, the vapidness, the pretense. If she wanted to seduce her notorious husband, she could do so without feeling shame or guilt.

And she had to confess she was tempted. So tempted.

She was also dismayingly, idiotically jealous, Raven realized when she saw Kell laugh at something Emma said.

The intimacy of the gesture sent rebellion flaring inside Raven. Involuntarily her hands curled into fists, and she moved forward, unable to stop herself. She found herself standing before Kell, demanding an interview of a man for the second time that evening. But this time there was fire in her heart.

“Might I have a word with you, dear husband?” she said through gritted teeth.

Kell raised an eyebrow, while Emma’s smile of greeting faded.

The hostess looked from Raven to Kell, who gave a brief nod.

The moment Emma was out of earshot, Raven launched her impulsive tirade. “Publicly flaunting your mistress is hardly the way to avoid scandal.”

He regarded her levelly, not remarking on the unfairness of her attack. “I had no idea you cared about my mistresses.”

“I don’t, except when you make such an obvious display of your affections.”

“If you are so concerned about appearances, perhaps we should continue this argument in a less public forum.”

“Very well,” Raven replied tightly, realizing they were once again the focus of all eyes. “Where do you suggest?”

He gave her a curt, mocking bow. “I will meet you shortly upstairs in my apartments. I believe you know the way.”