Nicole Jordan (22 page)

“Is this the book you told me about?” he asked. “The erotic journal your mother left to you?”

Her face flushed. “Y-yes.”

His gaze dropped involuntarily from her rosy cheeks to her mouth. He remembered kissing that delectable mouth, sliding his tongue deep inside to taste her, to drink of her, to steal her breath. He remembered how she had responded, her lips parting on a strangled sob as her pleasure peaked….

Kell drew a sharp breath, knowing he had to leave. “Perhaps some day you might allow me to read it. It would be intriguing to discover if I could learn a thing or two about lovemaking.”

“I suppose…if you wish,” she stammered.

He could tell he had caught her off guard and realized it was a victory of sorts. He would continue to keep his beautiful wife off her guard if he could manage it. He had spent too much time of late in that position himself. Ever since laying eyes on Raven, in fact.

Steeling his loins, Kell bent down and pressed an intentionally provocative kiss to her forehead. “Sleep well, vixen.”

She was still staring after him when he let himself from her bedchamber by way of the dressing room door.

Chapter

Twelve

“Thank you, O’Malley,” Raven murmured when the groom had assisted her into the sidesaddle.

After arranging her skirts, she drew her cloak tight against the frigid morning air and took up the reins, eager to be off for her daily ride in the park. The moment O’Malley had mounted his own hack, Raven set out at a brisk trot, with the groom following close behind.

She didn’t expect to meet Brynn since her friend had another engagement this morning. But she hoped to find Dare, for she had an alarming report to discuss with him: an ugly rumor that concerned her husband.

She hadn’t spoken much to Kell during the past week, not since the night he had come to her bedchamber to discuss his brother. Except for passing him on the stairs, she hadn’t even seen him. The duty of providing her escort to various social functions had fallen to her friends.

Unaccountably Raven found Kell’s deliberate absence bothersome. Restlessness was nothing new to her, but she’d felt an unusual despondency of late. She tried to explain her feelings away, telling herself that her low spirits had nothing to do with her husband’s pointed neglect. After all, Kell was only adhering to the bargain they had struck.

There were countless other possible reasons for her melancholy, the most logical being that with the scandal, she now found herself on the fringes of the high society that she’d been such an integral part of until now.

Or perhaps her blueness could be attributed to the winter weather, which was remarkably cold, even for late November.

Or it was her apprehension over Sean Lasseter. Raven frequently found herself glancing nervously over her shoulder, seeing threats in the shadows, fearful that he would assault her again, even though Kell had assured her otherwise.

Or it could simply be due to loneliness. Admittedly she felt more alone than at any time since her arrival in England. Her grandfather had departed London for his own estate in East Sussex, while Raven remained in town for appearance’s sake. She planned to join her grandfather for Christmas, but that was still several weeks away.

At least she had O’Malley. It was comforting to have him nearby, just as it was a solace to have Brynn and Lucian and Dare—her stalwart champions and dearest friends—stand by her. But still Raven couldn’t deny her stark feeling of isolation. The nights were the worst, when she lay staring restlessly at the canopy above her bed. Not even her pirate lover could console her, for oddly, she had trouble summoning him. When she closed her eyes to imagine him, all she saw was Kell.

With her uncertain future stretching out before her, empty, pointless, without any goal to strive toward, she felt keenly alone and at a loss, regardless of how fiercely she scolded herself for falling victim to self-pity.

She should be counting her blessings, Raven knew. While her dreams of making a titled match were crushed, while the scandal had resulted in a great many closed doors, she had survived. And compared to many of her peers, she was actually well off. She had contracted a marriage in name only, with no dire risk of overwhelming love or obsessive passion to threaten her. And as the wife of a wealthy, indifferent husband, she had complete freedom to do as she pleased.

But still she found herself missing Kell. He had startled her the night he came to her room, especially when he bent to give her an unexpected kiss.

“Sleep well, vixen,” he’d said.

But she hadn’t slept. She had tossed and turned for hours, remembering the way his eyes had darkened when they scrutinized her concealing nightdress; remembering his sudden interest when he had spied the journal and her acute embarrassment at being caught reading it.

She had put away the journal after his visit, for the erotic passages only aroused her and reminded her of the physical relations that were missing in her marriage. But once or twice when she had heard Kell come in late at night, she lay there in bed, aware that she had a husband in the very next room, her body throbbing shamelessly for him…. She pictured his magnificent nudity when she’d surprised him at his bath…. Wondered how she would react if he returned to her bedchamber to claim his marital rights.

But he never came to her room again.

No doubt Kell was occupied with his club, but Raven couldn’t even be certain of that. She had shared some of her most private secrets with him—about the journal, about her fantasy lover—and still she knew so little about him.

Moreover, yesterday she was forcibly reminded of her obligations to Kell when she learned of a worrisome development.

According to Brynn, someone had begun spreading unsavory rumors about the honesty of Kell’s gaming club. Raven could only suspect the gossip was the work of the Duke of Halford, since he had threatened to ruin the blackguard who’d stolen his bride.

When she reached Hyde Park, however, there was no sign of Dare, so she enjoyed an easy gallop along Rotten Row. It was perhaps a half hour later when she spied the marquess riding toward her. She barely waited for his charming greeting before she brought up the matter of her former betrothed’s possible vindictiveness.

To Raven’s dismay, Dare only confirmed her fears.

“Yes, I’m afraid Halford has been disparaging your husband’s club. He has persuaded a number of his acquaintances to shun it, claiming the Golden Fleece is living up to its name—fleecing its customers.”

“Does he have the slightest bit of proof?”

Dare gave her an arch look. “Proof isn’t necessary to paint a man as dishonorable. The mere accusation from someone of influence can be just as lethal. I wouldn’t be surprised if Halford has never stepped foot inside the Fleece.”

Raven frowned in dismay. “Surely something can be done to stop him.”

“Well, I can help Lasseter make up for lost business by patronizing his hell more often. And I could ensure that my fellow Hellfire League members do the same.”

“Would you, Dare,please ?”

“Of course. But no amount of patronage can repair a club’s tarnished reputation. It’s much like a lady’s good name. Once lost, it is almost impossible to regain.” Dare pursed his sensual lips thoughtfully. “It would no doubt help if Lasseter made an effort to become better known to his more celebrated clientele—give them the opportunity to size up his honor and character. As it stands now, he’s merely a notorious enigma.”

“But how is that to be accomplished?”

“He could start by getting about in society more. I would be perfectly happy to sponsor him, as I’m sure would Lucian, but your husband must be willing to take part.”

“I don’t think he would,” Raven said ruefully. “He despises society.”

“Even to save his club?”

“I don’t know. I will have to ask him.”

She visited the club that afternoon but was informed by the hulking doorman that Mr. Lasseter was away. Emma Walsh, however, came down the stairs at just that moment and greeted Raven with a graciousness that seemed unfeigned.

Raven felt herself flush with embarrassment. She had not seen the beautiful hostess since her abduction and wasn’t quite certain how to act.

But Emma seemed determined to put her at ease. “Kell is at a fencing match, but he should return within the hour. Would you care to wait for him?”

Absurdly, it irked Raven that she knew less about her husband’s whereabouts than this woman did. Surprised by the invitation, though, she accepted readily. When Emma had directed the doorman to have a tea tray sent into the bookroom, Raven surrendered her cloak and followed the hostess, gazing about her covertly.

Everywhere she looked, she saw evidence of tasteful richness: the sheen of waxed wood, the sparkle of crystal chandeliers, the sumptuousness of velvet and brocade furnishings.

Emma evidently noticed her interested glances. “Have you ever seen the inner workings of a gaming club?”

“No, but I admit to a vast curiosity.”

“After tea I would be happy to show you about if you wish.”

“I would like that very much.”

“This is the most comfortable room in the place,” Emma said, leading Raven into the library. “It is designed to give the club an air of refinement and remind our patrons of their libraries at home. Here they may enjoy a cheroot or a short respite from the gaming tables.”

When they were seated around the tea table, Emma gave her an assessing glance. “Perhaps you might be interested to know that Sean has left for an extended stay in Ireland.”

Raven drew a hopeful breath. “Truly? He is gone?”

“Yes. Kell persuaded him to go.”

“I wonder how he accomplished that?”

“I am not quite certain, but Kell is the only one who can influence Sean when he turns wild. They are very close, even for brothers. I expect you must be relieved.”

Pressing a hand to her temple, Raven managed a smile. “You cannot imagine how much.”

Emma’s own smile was sympathetic. “I am truly sorry for your ordeal. I tried to stop Sean that day, but all I could do was send for Kell.”

Remembering, Raven shuddered.

“If I may be of any assistance to you,” Emma offered, “you need only ask.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “Actually…” She leaned forward. “There is a way you could help me. I find myself in…an awkward situation, wed to a stranger. I don’t doubt you know far more about my husband than I do. It would be helpful if you could tell me more about him. I have only heard bits and pieces regarding his past, and some of those were ugly rumors.”

Emma hesitated a moment before answering. “I suppose you mean the rumors about him murdering his uncle.”

“Yes. Sean intimated to me that they were true.”

Anger filled Emma’s eyes, while her mouth pressed together in a tight line. “I don’t know how their uncle came to die, but I would stake my life on it—Kell Lasseter is not a murderer. And Sean is an ungrateful wretch to imply otherwise after all Kell has done for him!”

Her vehement defense of Kell pleased Raven and only strengthened her own belief in his innocence. “I didn’t think Kell guilty,” she observed. “But he wouldn’t confirm or deny the rumors. All he would say was that his uncle sent his mother to an early grave after taking her sons from her. And that his scar was the result of a blow from his uncle’s signet ring.”

Emma nodded. “I don’t think I would be betraying Kell’s confidence to share what is common knowledge. You know his mother was Irish?”

“Yes.”

“Well, she was not of the gentry, merely the daughter of an Irish physician, and the Lasseters despised her for it. When she was widowed, William Lasseter became her sons’ guardian and threatened to withhold every cent of their inheritance unless Fiona gave up all claim to them.”

“And did she?”

“Yes. From what Sean told me, she couldn’t bear to deprive her sons of their birthright. And she didn’t have the means to fight so powerful a family. She returned to Ireland and died there of an ague, alone and penniless. William refused even to let her sons go to visit her grave.”

“Then it is understandable why Kell would loathe his uncle.”

“Yes, but that isn’t the only reason. According to Sean, William was a tyrant. And someone with Kell’s rebellious nature wouldn’t take kindly to such dictatorial control. Some years later, he became involved in a violent dispute with his uncle, which is when Kell received his scar. He escaped with Sean to Ireland and hid out on the streets of Dublin, barely managing to survive. Sean told me that more than once they had to resort to eating rats—although he might have made that story up simply to unsettle me.”

Raven felt herself shudder. “So what happened next?”

“That isn’t so clear. Eventually William pursued them to Dublin, where he took up lodgings and spent weeks searching for his nephews. But one day he simply disappeared. His body was discovered on a road outside Dublin. Apparently he’d been set upon by highwaymen and killed for his purse.”

“Then why was Kell suspected of his murder?”

“Because William had been run through with a sword blade—an unusual choice of weapons for road agents, who normally use pistols. And Kell was a skilled swordsman. Sean says Kell learned the sport so he could hold his own with his uncle, who was a champion fencer. The theory was that Kell killed William in a duel and then disposed of the body.”

“That seems flimsy evidence on which to base charges so serious as murder.”

“Well, the charges actually came a bit later, from William’s family. They were outraged by his death and felt certain Kell was to blame, but they could never prove it. And it didn’t help that Kell never expressed any grief over his uncle’s demise, or that he refused to return to England. He wanted nothing to do with the Lasseters or their wealth, even though he had to turn to gaming to scrape out a living. He was determined to raise Sean on his own, away from their influence. Kell even refused to accept the inheritance that was rightfully his. Everything you see here, he earned through his own efforts.”

Raven glanced around the lavish room, feeling a touch of guilt. Despite the trials of her childhood, she’d had an easy life compared to Kell’s. She had to admire a man who would make such a sacrifice for his brother. And even though his past was shadowed in secrets, she thought she knew Kell well enough by now to be certain he couldn’t be guilty of cold-blooded murder.