Ecstasy

Chapter Eight

Raven found herself alone when she woke the following morning, much to her relief. She was glad she didn’t have to face her new husband. It was difficult enough to ignore the memories of his exquisite lovemaking.

The twinging ache between her thighs and the tenderness of her nipples brought to mind all too vividly images she would rather forget-of Kell’s burning lips and magical hands and hard, muscular body. Experiencing his passion had far exceeded her expectations and made her long for the familiar safety of her fantasy lover.

Kell had already breakfasted and ordered the horses made ready, she learned when she came downstairs, so she hurriedly swallowed a few bites and joined him at the carriage.

The brief, dismissive glance he gave her set the tone for their relationship and Raven’s mood. Their marriage was to be merely one of convenience, she had to remember. They might be husband and wife, but they would not share confidences or friendship or passion. Evidently Kell intended to begin as they would go on, with a distant civility-which suited Raven perfectly, even if the notion was unaccountably depressing.

They had little to say to each other on the drive to London. Only when they arrived at what was to be her new home did her interest perk up.

The town house stood in a quiet, elegant square-not as grand as her great-aunt’s mansion, but just as luxurious and possibly more tasteful. The front entrance hall was spacious and adorned with various works of art: sculpture and beautiful tapestries and landscapes in oils.

The introductions to his staff, however, proved awkward. The varying degrees of shock and surprise on their faces told Raven very clearly how unexpected their master’s marriage was.

Ignoring their responses, Kell ordered that Mrs. Lasseter be given the chambers adjacent to his and a maid be sent to help her unpack.

When the servants had been dismissed, he addressed Raven directly. “You will likely want to hire your own lady’s maid. This is a bachelor’s residence and not equipped for a mistress.”

“My aunt can probably spare one of hers,” Raven replied evenly.

“Good. And you can have O’Malley fetch your trunks.”

She was grateful he had remembered. Yet she scarcely had time to glance around her before Kell took his leave.

“You are going?” she asked, caught off guard, and immediately regretted sounding so possessive.

“My staff is capable of showing you the house and helping you get settled.”

“Of course,” she murmured, even while wondering what they would think about a newly wedded husband abandoning his bride on his doorstep.

“I have a business to run,” Kell reminded her. “And I must speak to my brother before he hears the news from some other source.”

His dark tone suggested he was not looking forward to the task, and Raven felt her heart sink at the thought of Sean’s reaction. “He won’t be happy to learn of our marriage.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “No, but I will see that he respects it. You needn’t worry about Sean.”

She nodded, making no further comment when, with a brief bow, Kell turned to the front door.

She followed his tall, lithe form with her gaze as he let himself from the house. Perhaps it was madness, but Kell inspired in her an illogical sense of safety, at least when it came to his brother. She trusted him to keep his word to shield her. Kell would make a formidable protector, she had little doubt.

Just as he had made a formidable lover last night-with scarcely any effort at all. The memory of his claiming was imprinted vividly on her mind and stamped indelibly between her thighs…

Raven felt herself flushing. Even with her significant exposure to the eroticism of the journal, she couldn’t have anticipated the explosion of passion he’d unleashed in her. Or the aching, overwhelming sense of fulfillment that she’d never found in any of her fantasies. The thought that she would never again know the fire of his touch filled her with a strange melancholy.

Yet she had no right to protest. Kell had already aided her more than once. First by saving her from his brother’s ravishment, then by giving her the protection of his name. She couldn’t ask him for more.

Squaring her shoulders, Raven turned toward the wide staircase. At the moment she had her own difficulties to face. And it looked very much as if she would have to face them alone.

“You are jesting, right?” Sean demanded, staring at his brother.

They were in the library of Sean’s imposing town house-the same London mansion that had been in the Lasseter family for nearly a century.

Unaccustomed to being roused from bed before noon, Sean had thrown a dressing gown over his nightshirt and joined Kell in the bookroom, looking rumpled and bleary-eyed and worse for wear after an obviously hard night of carousing.

“It is no jest, I’m afraid,” Kell replied evenly. “We were wed last evening by special license.”

He watched his brother grow white around the mouth. For a moment Sean said nothing. Then he went to the side table and poured himself a tumblerful of whiskey and tossed it back in a long swallow. When at last he spoke, his voice trembled with rage.

“Forgive me if I find it hard to credit that my own brother would betray me by wedding the vicious slut who ruined my life.”

Roughly Kell raked a hand through his hair. He had known this meeting would be turbulent, known Sean would be furious and resentful, but he strove to keep his own temper under control.

“I hardly betrayed you, Sean. Rather, I saved you from prison. You should consider yourself damned fortunate that I was able to intervene. It might have escaped your notice, but by abducting Miss Kendrick, you were in grave danger of retribution from her enraged family. They threatened to prosecute you. Would you rather I allowed you to be locked away?”

Sean sent him a bitter, scathing look. “You could have found another way. I expected better from you, damn you, Kell! I trusted you not to plunge a knife in my back!”

Without warning, he hurled the tumbler into the hearth, shattering the heavy crystal with a crash. Then he threw himself into a chair, pressing a hand over his eyes as if in dire pain.

Kell clenched his jaw. He felt a measure of guilt at his brother’s unhappiness, but anger as well at Sean for precipitating this disaster. “You left me little choice. If not for your means of seeking revenge, I would never have been compelled to wed her.”

“She deserved what she got!”

“I’m not so certain of that. She wasn’t responsible for your impressment-her groom was. And even he wasn’t wholly to blame, for he was merely trying to protect her. What did you expect him to do when you assaulted her last summer?”

“She has duped you completely, hasn’t she?”

“I don’t think so.”

“No? You believe her over me. You’ve sided with her over your own flesh and blood. You’ve played the fool for her like countless other witless swains. You were taken in by her wiles, just as I was.”

“You’re mistaken,” Kell said grimly.

“Am I? How else can you explain your betrayal?” His bitterness was edged with a grief that seemed genuine when tears filled his eyes. “You stole her from me, Kell. I loved her, and you stole her from me.”

Kell shook his head slowly. “If you truly loved her, Sean, you would never have tormented her as you did. You would not have wanted to see her so devastated, standing alone against society, enduring the cruelty our own mother did.” He felt his hands curl into fists. “I was not about to let her suffer the way our mother suffered, Sean.”

Looking ashamed, Sean averted his gaze. “I did love Miss Kendrick. I do. I swear it. I would have married her myself.”

“That never would have happened,” Kell assured him. “She never would have accepted you as her husband after what you did to her.”

His face twisting in pain, Sean ran a hand roughly down his face. Kell took pity on his brother and gentled his tone. “You should be satisfied with your revenge thus far. Think about it. You accomplished precisely what you set out to do. You’ve tumbled her from her elite station. She will never wed her duke, never lead society.” He gave a scoffing laugh. “No doubt she’ll be shunned simply because of who I am. In order to explain her sudden disappearance, we’re putting about the story that we were madly in love; that I abducted her because I couldn’t bear to live without her. A love match with a half-Irish gamester who possesses my notorious reputation could prove just as big a scandal as jilting a duke. The ton will never forgive her for loving so far beneath her station.”

Sean’s mouth twisted in contempt. He, like Kell, held a burning resentment for society’s view of class differences. In truth, Kell was convinced that being unable to compete against a nobleman for Miss Kendrick’s hand in marriage had outraged Sean as much or more than her refusal of his suit.

But his brother apparently was not willing to forgive him, at least not yet. Sean shook his head, his voice lowering to harsh fury. “May you both rot in hell.”

“Sean…”

“Get out. Just leave me alone.”

“In a moment. I have not finished what I came here to say.”

“There is more?” Sean sneered.

“I want you to absent yourself from London for a while.”

Sean stared. “Why the devil should I?”

“Because it will permit the scandal to die down, as well as allow time for her family’s wrath to cool. They could still decide to prosecute, you realize. If you remain here, you risk prodding a raw wound.”

“And just where do you expect me to go?”

“To Ireland. To the farm. You haven’t visited there since last winter.”

Three years ago Kell had purchased a horse farm outside Dublin, to provide Sean a place of refuge when his demons grew too fierce to bear. Now seemed an opportune time for him to return.

“I will make all the arrangements,” Kell added. “You can take the opportunity to gain control of yourself. And to think about what you did.”

“Just what did I do that was so terrible?”

Kell stifled a sigh. “No man of honor raises a hand to a woman, Sean. You crossed the line. What is more, you lied to me about what happened between the two of you. Raven Kendrick never gave you her body as you claimed.”

Sean’s green eyes filled with anguish, but he remained mute.

“I’ve made excuses for you in the past because I understood how you suffered. And I realize how your experience during your impressment could drive you to want revenge. But what you did to Raven Kendrick was inexcusable.”

“Go to hell.”

“As long as you go to Ireland.”

Sean’s spine went rigid. “I don’t have to do what you say. You’re no brother of mine. Go play the fool with your scheming bride. And don’t complain to me when you are burned by her wiles.”

“You will leave London, Sean, even if I have to escort you myself.”

“You will have to carry me, then.”

“If I must.”

Setting his jaw, Kell turned away and let himself out of the house he had hated for years. His brother needed time to become accustomed to the shocking news of his marriage, but Sean’s accusations had hurt more than he would have thought possible.

How had events come to such a pass? Never in his darkest dreams would he ever have expected a woman to come between them. The last thing he’d wanted was to wound his brother by taking a bride Sean claimed to love. Yet he would still do it again, in order to protect his brother from himself.

For years now, Sean’s self-destructive tendencies had alarmed Kell, although he’d always felt compelled to make allowances. Having an innocent boyhood shattered by depravity was an agony that only the strongest souls could fully overcome. And Sean had never been very strong.

His path to torment had begun the day they’d lost their father to sudden illness, when Kell was fourteen and Sean nine. Their father’s unexpected death was a devastating blow, but Adam Lasseter was scarcely in the ground when their hated uncle exercised his powers of guardianship and banished their mother from their lives. Fiona had had no power or resources to fight the disdainful Lasseters-nor did Kell at the time. During his tearful farewells with his mother, he’d sworn faithfully to look after his younger brother.

A solemn responsibility at which he’d failed terribly.

Kell climbed wearily into his waiting carriage and settled back, his conscience aching, his own thoughts bitter as he remembered those grim years when he and Sean had been forced to live under his uncle’s roof. They had never seen their mother again, for she’d died in Ireland barely a year later, too destitute to afford the care that might have saved her from the influenza epidemic that had raced through the Dublin slums.

Kell’s hatred for William Lasseter had become irrevocable. Seething with defiance, he had let his loathing drive his every action-rebelling at every opportunity, earning himself countless beatings. Devil’s spawn, his uncle called him. They had argued intensely and often, and Kell even ran away once, taking Sean with him. But their uncle dragged them back home, severely punishing them both and threatening to make Sean suffer worse if Kell’s insubordination continued.

After that, he had tried to contain his smoldering hatred for his younger brother’s sake, biding his time, resolving to wait until he could reach his majority and gain the power to fight his uncle.

At seventeen, Kell had gone away to university, while Sean remained at home under William’s control, schooled by tutors. When Kell did come home for holidays and term recesses, Sean seemed withdrawn, despondent, but he denied anything was wrong… Out of shame, Kell finally learned to his revulsion.

He’d returned home for Christmas during his second year and discovered the sordid truth: that William Lasseter had an unnatural desire for thirteen-year-old boys.

Kell had planned to attend a worship service with his brother when he found Sean huddling before a roaring fire in his room, enveloped in a dozen blankets but trembling with cold.

“I c-cannot go to church, K-Kell,” he said, his teeth chattering. “N-not when I am so unclean.”

“What are you talking about, pup?” Kell asked teasingly. “Do you mean to say you haven’t bathed or washed behind your ears?”

The agony on Sean’s face was unmistakable. “No, I have bathed. But I cannot get clean. God help me… He made me do it, Kell. I couldn’t stop him.”

Sean had broken down in sobs then, and the tale gradually came out. For months he had been sodomized by their uncle William.

Remembering his sick horror even now, Kell rubbed his scarred cheek. He’d erupted in fury, threatening to kill William if he dared touch Sean again-

“Mr. Lasseter, sir?” a footman’s solemn voice asked, interrupting Kell’s dark thoughts.

His carriage had come to a halt before his gaming club, he realized.

Feeling almost ancient, his injured leg aching, he dismounted slowly and made his way up the front steps, where he was greeted at the door by his majordomo.

Timmons was too well-trained to ask about his master’s unexpected disappearance, but Kell responded to his quizzical regard with a terse explanation. “I had some matters that required my attention.”

“Very well, sir. Miss Walsh has managed in your absence. She has not yet risen, as she didn’t retire until the wee hours of the morning. A party of gentlemen commandeered the hazard table, playing for exceptionally high stakes.”

Which meant hundreds of thousands of pounds had exchanged hands, Kell knew, which meant a tidy profit for the house. At least something in his life was going well.

He nodded, glad that he didn’t have to face Emma Walsh at just this moment. He didn’t have the energy to explain about his sudden unwanted marriage.

Favoring his wounded leg, he climbed the stairs to his private study. Emma had left neat stacks of receipts and promissory notes on his desk, along with several ledgers, but he had no interest in reviewing her accounting, or really any need. She was entirely capable of running the club as well as he.

Instead, Kell entered the adjoining bedchamber and eased himself onto the bed, where two nights ago he’d spent countless passionate hours ministering to his feverish patient-

Trying to block out the scorching memory, he flung his arm over his eyes and let his thoughts return to the dark days after discovering his uncle’s perversions.

They had escaped William Lasseter’s guardianship and fled to Ireland, where Kell had done his best to rear his brother and try to help him overcome his tormented past. Utilizing his gaming skills, Kell had managed to claw their way out of poverty and eventually accumulate significant wealth, so that by the time he reached his majority, he no longer needed the inheritance left in trust by his father. But he’d made serious mistakes with his brother.

Guilt-wracked and filled with self-remorse for what he’d allowed to happen, he’d tolerated Sean’s excesses more than was wise, providing him all the advantages money could buy, indulging him, not making him accept responsibility for his binges of drinking and gaming and whoring. He’d taken Sean to see the best doctors in Edinburgh in an effort to control his black moods, but he hadn’t enforced their recommendations that Sean live a quiet life.

Perhaps if he’d been sterner…

It was several years before Kell realized his failure. Longer still before he finally acknowledged that his brother’s simmering resentment at being abandoned to their uncle’s depravity remained a festering sore between them.

Then last summer Sean’s torment had been compounded when he was smitten with a heartless beauty and found himself impressed in the cruel arms of the British Royal Navy.

Raven Kendrick wasn’t directly responsible for that tragedy, Kell knew now, but there was no question that her irresistible allure had led Sean into more suffering. He would always bear the brutal scars on his back as proof-even though their uncle no doubt had scarred Sean far worse than the navy ever could.

Those brutal shipboard beatings had sent Sean over the edge, Kell could see that now. Sean clearly hadn’t been in his right mind when he’d abducted Raven. And no doubt he deserved retribution for his vicious treatment of her. But Kell was still desperately determined to protect his brother.

Enough to wed the woman Sean professed to love and risk his hatred.

Kell grimaced, remembering Sean’s bitter accusations of betrayal and the charge that he’d fallen for the wiles of a practiced schemer.

He hadn’t fallen for her, of course. Yet he would have to take care if he didn’t want to be led around by his cock. He could still feel the silk of Raven’s hair, the warmth of her skin, her beguiling combination of passion and innocence. He still ached with the hungry frustration of being unable to fully satisfy his own rampant sexual need…

Hell and damnation, Kell swore under his breath. He would do whatever it took to remain immune to her allure. At the very least, he owed it to his brother to keep his distance. He couldn’t add further insult to injury by rubbing Sean’s nose in his marriage. He wouldn’t fulfill those accusations of betrayal.

And that meant doing his damnedest to keep away from his new bride.

Raven’s morning was as trying as Kell’s, for she gathered her courage and forced herself to face her jilted betrothed, determined to apologize in person. She owed Halford that much.

Since a lady did not visit a bachelor’s residence, though, and since she preferred not to risk a public rebuff, she penned a note to the duke, asking him to call on her. She waited restlessly for several hours before he deigned to appear.

Her heart was pounding uncomfortably as his grace was shown into the drawing room, but one glimpse told Raven he was not inclined to accept her apology.

Charles Shawcross, the Duke of Halford, was every inch a nobleman, tall and distinguished and rather attractive in a stern sort of way. With his brown hair graying at the temples, he looked more like her father than a prospective bridegroom, yet despite his age and studied aloofness, they had enjoyed an unexpected compatibility. She’d come to admire his keen intelligence, while he had been attracted-against his will, Raven suspected-by her liveliness and even her unconventionality.

At her murmured invitation, Halford took a seat on the damask settee, crossing one leg over the other, regarding her without speaking. He had always been a private man of few words, but his simmering silence spoke volumes. She had never seen his expression so harsh.

There was anger in his blue eyes, as well as some darker emotion… Could it possibly be grief? Raven wondered in dismay. She had never expected to cause him real pain. She’d thought her defection had merely wounded his august pride.

“Well?” he said finally, his tone glacial.

“You read my letter yesterday?” Raven asked.

“I did, madam. Thus I see no purpose for this interview. You made your feelings quite clear.”

She clasped her fingers in her lap, striving for patience. “I wanted the chance to explain in person, to beg your forgiveness.”

“Indeed? You expect forgiveness for the dastardly trick you played?”

“Yes, Charles…I truly am sorry. You did not deserve such wretched treatment.”

If he was surprised by her unfamiliar meekness, he gave no sign. “You are sorry for making me appear the fool? For jilting me to wed a murderous blackguard? An Irish nobody, at that?”

Raven took a deep breath, finding it difficult to defend her new husband’s unsavory reputation when she knew so little about him. “He is not a murderer,” she said quietly. “Nor a blackguard.”

“He is a notorious gamester who made me the laughingstock of the ton by abducting my bride on the very day of my wedding.”

She shook her head, knowing it was unfair to let Halford direct his anger at Lasseter. “He was not to blame. It was my fault entirely.”

Halford gave her a measuring stare, his eyes hard and mocking. “I am supposed to believe you orchestrated your own abduction?”

“No, that isn’t what I meant. The abduction was real enough, but…I did nothing to stop it. I did not want to stop it.”

Raven leaned forward, her expression imploring. She didn’t want the duke for an enemy, certainly not Kell’s enemy. But if she hoped to persuade Halford to leniency, she would have to convince him that she truly loved her husband.

“I didn’t intend for it to happen, Charles. I didn’t want to love him. But sometimes…we cannot predict yearnings of the heart.” She took another deep breath and voiced an outright lie. “It seems as if I’ve known Kell forever. But I declined his proposal years ago because my family considered him so unsuitable.”

“I should think so,” Halford said, his voice dripping contempt.

Trying not to react to his interruption, she went on. “As the day of our wedding drew nearer, however, I began to grow cold feet. I thought I was suffering from bridal nerves, but at the final moment…I realized I couldn’t marry you, Charles. Not when I loved another man. It would not have been fair to you.”

His lips twisted scornfully. “Now you claim to be interested in fairness?”

“Yes. Do think about it. I cannot have touched your heart. You never truly loved me. You saw me merely as a prize to be won. You enjoyed the challenge of triumphing over all my other suitors. And I, in turn…I only wished to wed you for your title.”

He winced as if from a blow, and Raven found herself aching for him.

“Charles, surely you can understand. My family had such grand plans for me. My grandfather hoped to see me well established in society, and I wanted to please him. But I found I could no longer deny my own heart. I do love Kell, Charles. I have for a long, long while.”

“Where is he now?” Halford demanded, suddenly glancing around the drawing room.

Raven eyed him warily. “Why do you wish to know?”

“Because I have every intention of calling him out.”

She felt the color drain from her face. “Charles, you cannot!”

“No?” he asked, his tone silken. “Are you afraid I will kill him?”

Given the lethal rumors surrounding Kell, she feared much more for Halford. If the duke issued a challenge, it might cost him his life. But no man of his grace’s consequence would like having his courage or his skill impugned. She swallowed a retort.

“Charles, please…Your quarrel is with me, not Kell. I am the one who deserves your anger.”

“And you have it, madam. It will be a cold day in hell before I can look on this occasion with any measure of equanimity.”

She bit her lip. “You won’t ever be able to find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Halford stood, brushing off an imaginary speck of dust from his impeccably tailored coat. “No, my dear, I don’t believe I could ever be that magnanimous. But for your sake, I won’t endeavor to kill him. I will merely make it my business to ruin him.” His blue eyes glittered like chips of ice. “Your libertine will rue the day he thought to steal my bride from me.”

Raven was still seated in the drawing room, numb with dread, when her dearest friend was announced.

Brynn Tremayne, Countess of Wycliff, was a flame-haired beauty who, last summer, had landed the most eligible lord in England quite against her will. But despite the difficulties between them, their marriage had burgeoned into a deep and abiding love-simmering with a passion that reminded Raven uncomfortably of her mother’s hopeless fervor. She was happy for her friend, of course, but she was not about to risk losing her heart the way Brynn had done.

The countess was dressed in the height of fashion; her tailored green merino walking dress and cream-colored spencer hid the slight roundness of her belly that was swelling with child, while her vivid red tresses were tamed in a sedate chignon. She said not a word, but her emerald eyes held such grave concern and love that Raven felt an ache catch in her throat.

She rose to her feet involuntarily. She had planned to put on a brave front, but when her friend held out her arms, Raven walked into her embrace and clung. After all the stress and despair of the past two days, she couldn’t hold back her tears.

Brynn simply held her, stroking her hair while murmuring gentle sounds of consolation.

Finally managing to control her sobs, Raven drew back with a sniffle. “I’m sorry,” she said furiously, wiping her eyes. “I hate watering pots.”

“I should think you have every right to indulge in a good cry.” Brynn pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and made Raven dry her face, her own gaze searching. “You really are unharmed?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“We were frantic with worry for you. Lucian turned London upside down searching for you before your message came yesterday.”

Raven didn’t doubt Brynn’s claim in the least. Lucian Tremayne, the Earl of Wycliff, was a spymaster for the Foreign Office and had countless agents at his disposal. “I regret putting him to such trouble.”

Brynn’s scoffing sound was almost amused. “Truthfully, I believe he enjoyed the challenge. He thinks town has been rather dull of late. But we were so relieved to know you were safe. And now you are wed… You have to tell me all about it.”

She pulled Raven down on the settee and would not rest until she had heard the entire tale.

Raven told her almost the entire truth. About her abduction by Sean Lasseter, about finding herself in his brother’s bed, about her family’s fury. About how she had felt herself compelled to marry her rescuer. And finally her gratitude for Kell Lasseter’s reluctant sacrifice.

She refrained from mentioning her own dangerous feelings of desire. She had few secrets from Brynn, but there were simply some emotions that were too intimate to share.

When she was done, Brynn wrinkled her smooth brow in a frown. “I know very little about your Mr. Lasseter, other than he has a wicked reputation. And Lucian is only slightly acquainted with him. But Dare knows him and frequents his gaming hell. Perhaps you should speak to Dare.”

Dare was Jeremy Adair North, Marquess of Wolverton, formerly the Earl of Clune and currently the leader of the Hellfire League. Fondly called Dare by his vast number of friends, enviously known as the Prince of Pleasure by his admirers and rivals alike, he was as wicked and charming a rake as London had ever witnessed. And he possessed extensive social connections.

Raven nodded thoughtfully. If anyone knew anything about her new husband’s dark past, it would be Dare.

“What manner of man is your Mr. Lasseter?” Brynn asked. “Is he anything like his brother?”

“No!” Raven replied emphatically. “Thank God, he is nothing like Sean. Kell is…” She stopped, wondering how to describe the man she had wed.

He was formidable, compelling, intriguing-and vitally attractive, despite his scarred cheek and the smoldering intensity he kept tightly leashed. Or perhaps even because of it. Rather than offending her, his cutting, sardonic wit stirred her blood. Amazingly enough, she actually liked Kell when he wasn’t endeavoring to defend his brother. Indeed, she was far too drawn to Kell for comfort.

“Perhaps you should judge for yourself,” she said finally.

“So where is he? I should definitely like to meet him.”

“I believe he has gone to his club.” Raven met Brynn’s eyes. “We have agreed not to live in each other’s pockets. Ours is to be purely a marriage of convenience.”

“But you do mean to live here with him?”

“For a time, yes, but only to keep up appearances as newlyweds. Eventually I am to have my own house. As to where I would settle…I haven’t thought so far ahead yet.”

Brynn glanced around her with approval, eyeing the elegant furnishings done in burgundy and gold. “This is quite an attractive residence. For a wicked gamester, your Mr. Lasseter seems to have excellent taste. Better than most gentlemen I know.”

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.”