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.”