Chasing Raven (10 page)

Chapter
Twelve

With unsteady hands, Raven picked up her skirt and continued her descent toward Damon, whose attention had also been caught by the speediness of his sister's rescue. Indeed, it seemed as if that one act on the red-carpeted stairs had stopped time for everybody there in the theatre. Real life was slow to find its familiar pace again.

So was her heartbeat. It thumped madly in a disjointed rhythm. She felt suddenly several inches taller, and conspicuously flushed.

"Wasn't that the Earl of Southerton?" Damon exclaimed. "I believe I've seen him at Deverell's before."

She fussed with her evening gloves. Was she smiling? Her lips felt numb suddenly and she could not be certain of what they did or how to make them behave.

Accustomed to hearing unflattering things about herself, she didn't like to think of Hale hearing them too. Not that his opinion of her was unbesmirched already. Still...she took a deep breath and smoothed a hand over her corseted bodice...she didn't want him thinking any worse of her.

That caused her a moment's pause, for she'd never before cared for a man's good opinion, other than her father's.

"You've seen him at Deverell's?" she asked finally, still recovering her breath, opening her fan again to cool her face.

"Yes. It's the only place he attends usually in town." Damon kissed her cheek. "How are you, sister? Not managing to stay out of trouble this season, if the rumors are true."

She was very fond of Damon, although he could be a cheeky little bastard at times. "What is that?" Warily she eyed his glass and the very dark liquid it contained under a thick head of creamy froth.

"Stout, sister. Try it. It is most fortifying."

"Mama would not approve."

"All the more reason then," he chuckled.

"I fear there are folk who would say I am already fortified enough." Raven studied her half brother and realized he had grown much taller over the summer. Of all her father's sons he bore the most resemblance, as her mother had disdainfully remarked. He would soon be lethal for any young woman. "What have you been up to lately, Damon?"

"Well, I have my eye on a certain little darling, but currently she doesn't know I breathe."

"Which one?" Raven asked eagerly, trying not to think about Hale and the dangerous effect he had on her blood heat. Anxious to occupy her mind with something else, she urged, "Do tell!"

"Don't look now, but she's the pretty little blonde angel behind, to your left, standing with her short, square aunt...I said,
don't look now!
What word of the sentence did you not comprehend?"

"That small girl with the sharp eyes? You can do better. She's an incorrigible little flirt."

"Ha ha! Pot meet kettle. Or, in the immortal— and oh so fitting— words of Shakespeare,
t
he raven chides blackness
."

"Your meaning?"

"You know very well what I mean. You're the worst temptress that ever batted an eyelash. Cannot prevent yourself. You're a woman who is never happy unless every man in the room is besotted with you. According to papa, you got it from your mother. The difference is, while she will cling on with her fingernails until the man is bloody, once you have a man's adoration, you don't want him anymore and he is abandoned, left adrift."

"That is utterly untrue."

"How many broken hearts have you left in your wake?"

She gasped. "I do no such thing." Was everybody out to insult her today? She'd been good all week— bored but behaved— and apparently it was not worth the effort.

"I hear you danced with Hale at the Winstanleys' ball last week." Damon gave a teasing grin. "It's all over town, you know. Hale, who hasn't been seen to dance in a decade, finally came out of his shell to chase that wicked nuisance Raven Deverell around a ballroom. I hope you know what you're about this time. He is nothing like your other conquests."

"He did not chase me anywhere." Her cheeks grew even warmer. "It was one little dance. Really! Has nobody anything more important to talk about?"

"It seems not."Damon eyed her violently wielded fan. "Fret not, sister. They will have far more to talk about, now that they've all seen him put his hands on you again in public." He nodded toward the crimson carpeted steps where she'd almost fallen. "The poor fellow courts danger by following you about."

"I didn't ask him to follow me anywhere," she hissed, ignoring the little pang of guilt she felt for winking at Hale. "Now kindly talk about something else."

"Very well." He took a swig of his stout and smacked his lips— another thing of which her mother would not approve. "Have you met the newest member of the Deverell clan yet?"

She shook her head. Sadly it was another boy, leaving her even further outnumbered. "I may go home to Roscarrock soon. A baby is a good cause to visit, and I should like to see Olivia."

"What about your mama? She won't like you leaving London."

"Let Ransom chaperone her for a while." It was time her elder brother took on part of the task, she thought. "It might do them both a benefit. Keep them both out of trouble."

Speaking of which...she suddenly spied Monsieur Reynaux, who must have been sent out to find champagne. He was in deep and unusually somber conversation with a very attractive, very young woman in lilac satin. The lady put a hand on his arm and he leaned down to hear her intimate whisper. His lips brushed her brow as he whispered in reply.

It shouldn't be a surprise, of course, and it wouldn't be to anyone but Lady Charlotte, who— for some reason— expected men to be faithful when she took up with them. Years of crushing disappointment had not taught her the futility of such expectation.

Raven knew her mother may soon leave the box since she'd been abandoned there, and if the champagne did not arrive promptly enough she would come looking for it. Better make the most of her last few uninterrupted moments with Damon, and find out whatever she could.

"So what do you know about Hale? Tell me all his filthy secrets."

"I thought you wanted to change the subject."

She licked her lips and said tartly, "Tell me what you know about him, or I shall tell papa about that married woman you were with last year."

"Do you refer to my plain Latin tutor?"

"Oh, I'm sure she taught you a great many things and only some of it in Latin. And from what I hear she is far from plain." She poked his chest with her fan. "Tell me what you know about Hale."

"Give a man chance to think, sister!" Damon considered carefully, his gaze roving over the plaster cherubs on the ceiling. "Well....from what I've seen of him at Deverell's he holds his drink well, wagers high and prefers games of strategy to games of chance. Beyond that..." He took another sip from his glass and shrugged. "He manages a great estate in Oxfordshire and a Cotswold stone quarry."

Stone, she mused. How appropriate.

"Does he have family?"

"Perhaps. Doesn't everybody?"

"I heard he's a widower."

"I wouldn't know about that."

"Lord, you don't know much, do you?"

"Look, ask Ransom. He's closer to Hale's age and I know they've been dining together at the club lately, suddenly the best of friends." He cast her a sly, sideways glance and then sputtered. "Don't tell me you're actually interested in Hale? Oh, that is sweet indeed! Raven Deverell finally takes interest in a man and she can't have him."

"Can't have him? Why not?"

"Because he's
Hale
, sister darling. And you're...well...you." He broke into lusty chuckles. "And I mean that to be kind, Raven dear. I say it as your beloved little brother. You'd be wasting your time, but I wish you luck."

"Why would I want him?"

"The challenge, of course. He is completely and utterly out of your reach. We ought to have a wager."

"What sort of wager?"

"That you can't make Hale fall in love with you by the end of the summer. By the grouse shooting."

"I'm not interested."

"What's the matter? Lost your gumption? Think you can't win that wager? At last, you've found a very proper gentleman who would never succumb to your wicked charms."

"You're boring me, and I'm going back to the box." Raven snatched the glass from his hand and finished the "fortifying" contents in one unladylike gulp.

If people really were talking still about their dance at the Winstanleys' ball— so much so that even Damon and his group of socially mutinous young students had heard about it— Hale would probably do all in his power to avoid her from now on. The Earl of Southerton had his sterling reputation to preserve.

But he couldn't help himself when it came to gallant rescues, apparently. She still felt the firm print of his fingers on her waist. He had set her nerves asunder like a spilled pot of pins and needles, and her brother's teasing did not help retrieve the scattered pieces.

Where had Hale gone— leaving abruptly in the midst of the performance? It must be something important that called him away from Lady Jane Newcombe and her pigeon feather headdress. Ha! If he was with Raven he would not want to leave her side. She would see to it.

And just like that the pain began again, under her ribs.

It must be the sign of something terrible, she decided grimly. The beginning of the end.

She left her brother with a quick kiss and a warning, which she felt was necessary since she was a whole two years his senior and much wiser in the ways of the world. "No more Latin teachers for you, young sir. She has made you altogether too saucy. And your cockiness did not need any encouragement."

Damon grinned. "What can I say? She corrupted me, sister. But you be wary too, or you might be responsible for doing the same to poor Hale. C
orruptio optimi pessima
."

* * * *

He was just getting up from the chair to go back to his own box when the door opened and Raven entered. Seeing him there with her mother, her eyes grew very large and she halted abruptly. The color quite drained out of her face.

"Where have you been, Raven? I have wonderful news. His lordship has invited us to join him at his estate when he leaves London again at the end of next week. Is that not very generous of him?"

Her lips moved but no sound emerged.

Lady Charlotte laughed giddily over her tilting glass of champagne. "As you can see, she is overwhelmed by your invitation, your lordship."

"Yes. So it would seem."

"I thought you were leaving the theatre," the wayward young lady exclaimed.

"It would be rude to leave without paying my respects to your mother."

She looked askance, as if nobody had ever thought it necessary to pay her mother any respects before.

"I hope you will give my invitation some—"

"Why are you bothering with us?"

"Raven!" her mother exclaimed.

"I mean...it will play havoc with your reputation, sir."

She cared about
his
reputation? Yes, the little scowl of concern was quite endearing. He replied civilly, "Lady Charlotte tells me that you've been downcast of late and that you grow weary of town already, Miss Deverell. Since I am soon to go into Oxfordshire, I suggested you both might like to accompany me." He walked up to Raven and took her hand. It was warm through her glove. "I have some horses you might be interested to see, and I understand that is something of a passion of yours. But I shall leave the decision with you and your mama, of course." He raised her hand to his mouth and brushed her silk-clad knuckles very lightly with his lips. "I'm sure you have other offers."

To his surprise she didn't immediately reclaim her hand, but her fingers lay limp in his, as if she'd forgotten about them. "Horses?"

"Yes, Miss Deverell. I breed horses at my stud in Oxfordshire."

A renewed twinkle gleamed under her lowered lashes. He saw he had tempted her, but she was still in the mood to tease. "Where ladies only ride side saddle and with caution, well behind the men so as not to get in their way?"

His pulse picked up a hopeful pace. "Yes. As a lady should ride."

"In your opinion." She still did not take her hand from his.

"On my estate, Miss Deverell, my opinion is law."

"And nobody breaks your laws?"

"No. Because my rules are for their own safety." He paused, gripping her fingers a little tighter. "Surely you're not afraid, Miss Deverell? I believe you lectured me recently on the importance of trying something new once in a while."

She looked up at him in some confusion, then turned her back to her mother and whispered, "I warned you to stay away, or she'll get ideas about us."

"Yes, but you see, I've got ideas too."

He was pleased to see her blush. Perhaps he was not so out of practice with all this business as he'd thought.

"You'll be extremely sorry," she murmured. "No good can come of this. Not for you. Surely you saw how folk stared at us out there."

"Your dire predictions are very probably accurate. But, like you, I am fully attentive to the consequences of my actions. And you did say the stories of your wickedness are exaggerated." Unable to resist, he raised his free hand and pressed his thumb to her upper lip, disposing of a thin a trace of buff-colored froth. Her soft lips parted and he felt a rush of raw desire, which settled heavily in certain parts that were instantly and most inconveniently aroused.

Finally she retrieved her hand from his grip, flicked open her fan and whispered, "I warned you not to get involved with us." Her eyes flashed up at him. "Wolf." And she walked to her seat.

The door was opened again by the box-keeper and a colorfully attired gentleman entered, stumbling to a surprised halt, much as Raven had done before.

"Your lordship," her mother exclaimed, getting up, "do allow me to introduce Monsieur Reynaux, who is—"

"Ah, the Earl of Southerton. We meet at last. I am most honored to make the acquaintance." The Frenchman bowed. "Such a delight that I can say I 'ave met you— so fine a gentleman— your lordship."

There followed a short, awkward silence for Hale was never comfortable with introductions forced upon him. He preferred to select his own friends and kept a very small, exclusive group. Certainly he had no desire to form an acquaintance with this swaggering fellow. Finally he looked at Raven again and said, "I leave for Greyledge next Friday. Perhaps you and your mother can decide by Thursday evening. That will give you an entire week to make up your mind."

Lady Charlotte exclaimed hastily, "I'm sure my daughter cannot possibly object—"

"Do I need an entire week?" Raven interrupted. "I know you think I have only a tiny woman's mind, your lordship, but I am capable of making decisions promptly without taxing that organ unduly."

He saw that this performance was to annoy her mother, who now glowered fiercely across the box, and he remembered what Ransom had said about his sister's need to oppose the lady's will.

Miss Raven Deverell was, he must not forget, young and reckless. She was accustomed to idiots like Matthew Bourne fawning all over her, smitten by her cheekiness, encouraging her misbehavior for his own advantage. But there was also a warmth to her teasing; it drew him closer, as a cozy fire would on a cold evening. Just as a man could stare into flames and be mesmerized, he could find himself entranced by watching her.

"I will gladly wait a week for your answer, Miss Deverell. A decision made in haste is often too soon regretted. Like a wink made on the spur of a moment...a bad choice cannot be taken back." He gave her a meaningful look. "The damage, madam, is done."

She was taxing
his
organs unduly, he mused.

The chit replied, "Well, goodness, I wouldn't want to be accused of damaging anything of yours. That would be like denting the crown jewels. So I shall give your invitation as much consideration as I, a pampered chit of a girl, can manage." She smiled sweetly. Once again, he suspected, that smile was not for his benefit, although the words were.

"Excellent. I hope you do." He bowed and left the box before he gave into a very strong urge, took Raven Deverell over his knee and spanked her.

At that thought he almost dropped his hat again.

A brisk stroll in the cool evening air was much needed after the accidental kiss of her pouty lips to his thumb and the subsequent rousing effects to his person.

She claimed it was not her intent to damage him, but as he had warned her, it was too late and he was quite beyond repair. Parts of him, he was certain, would never be the same again.

But of all the people who had observed the wound under his eye, she was the only one who dared ask about it. The only one who showed any concern. And that comment had completely altered his course.