Chasing Raven (9 page)

* * * *

Her shoulders were bare tonight. A simple string of pearls circled her throat and small mother-of-pearl moons hung from her ears— he saw them because they gleamed each time she moved. Her dark hair was piled up high, held in place somehow. He was too far away to ascertain the method used to keep that heavy weight off her shoulders, but he rather missed the long, curling tail he'd encountered at the Winstanleys' ball, felt disappointed not to see it. Rapidly and greedily he drank in the sight of her, as if she was a rain shower and he a parched landscape.

No, he corrected his thoughts sharply. Raven Deverell was not a rain shower; she was a monsoon.

That gown revealed too much skin, he thought irritably. He imagined he saw her breathing a little fast and heavy. Perhaps she was too warm.

He felt the same.

Suddenly he caught the glimmer of two eyes watching him above her fan. They were more brilliant than the stage lights below.

She blinked, lowered her fan and looked away again. He thought he caught a smirk of victory. Ah, he should have looked away first and not given her the opportunity. Now she thought she had the upper hand. Impertinent little madam.

As if he would ever be tempted to misbehave with a young, flighty woman like her! A woman who, so he'd learned through his discreet inquiries, was a skilled card player and made wagers with lust-addled young men, probably seducing them out of a small fortune at every opportunity. Just the way True Deverell began.

"Like father, like daughter," he'd heard.

Hastily he looked down at the stage and set his hands over his knees to be sure they were still. Taking a deep breath and clearing his throat, he tried to pay greater attention to the performance on stage.

With a solitary wink from the back of a horse she had sought to enchant him. Apparently now she meant to drive him mad and turn him into another of her creatures. That must be her intent. Why else would he not have sight of her for days and then suddenly be rewarded with a glimpse? Very clever.

But she would not claim victory over Hale. He was certainly no pickled, insecure fool like Matthew Bourne, ready to abandon his reputation and sanity for a woman. Or for a naughty girl masquerading in a woman's body.

He pictured her again as she was thirteen years ago, that tattered green ribbon in her hair, trailing through the crowd when he ran after her to retrieve his watch.

Will yew marry me. Yea or nay?

He glanced her way again and caught another teasing glimmer before her wafting fan hid those inquisitive eyes once more.

Raven Deverell may have changed on the outside, he mused, but she was still the same bold, impudent creature within. And he who had once chased her ought to know better by now.

Chapter
Eleven

At the interval she excused herself by muttering about the need for cooler air, and slipped out into the corridor. Immediately she saw Hale exiting his own box at the same time, pulling on his greatcoat as if leaving the theatre already. Tonight he wore evening clothes, richly-made, but out-dated. Did he not have a valet to help him, she wondered.

Of course, even if he had one, he would not listen to their advice. He seemed to be of the opinion that he knew everything.

While she expected the man to walk by without acknowledgment, he saw her and slowed his pace. A small voice inside her head then urged Raven to run off, but she decided to stay and speak. She would be mature and somber, without a hint of that smile he had so disdained at the Winstanleys' ball. Let the aggravating fellow criticize her again and be damned. She'd never been afraid of a man in her life, and she would not begin now.

"Back from the country already, your lordship? My mother will be surprised."

He bowed. "Miss Deverell. Good evening to you." His gaze travelled over her hair as if he searched for something. "I changed my plans. I have not yet been home."

Raven was shocked to see a bruise under his right eye and a small cut. Not the sort of injury one generally observed on a gentleman's face. On her own brothers, perhaps— they were often in one scrape or another.

But on Hale, the Earl of Southerton? Most odd.

"My mother was very disappointed when you turned down her offer of tea. She's bound to ask you again, now that she has seen you and knows you stayed in London. So it's my turn to give you
fair warning
to keep your distance
."

He squinted. "Ah."

"And I give you that warning, even though I had earlier decided you could look after yourself where my mother is concerned, and I would wash my hands of it, since you began the acquaintance with her of your own free will." She frowned, closing her fan with a snap. Until she had him there before her again she hadn't realized how much brewed inside, ready to bubble over. Her corset had a hard time holding it all in when he was around. "I know you only offered a ride in your carriage to interfere in my life, but you need not have troubled yourself. Had I known of Matty's impending engagement I would not have caused him any trouble. Whatever you might think of me, I am not so very wicked. Sometimes, sir, one should not believe everything one hears. A great many tales are exaggerated. But you are a man who sits high above us all, seldom comes down among us, and passes judgment without ever bothering to find out the facts of the case."

He drew back slightly and gingerly touched the mark under his eye. "Miss Deverell, I—"

"Are you leaving already, half way through the performance?" It burst out of her in a breathless rush, cutting across his sentence. "You ought to stay for the end." It was days since she'd seen him. Oh, why did that thought come to her like the cruel strike of a whip? What did she care where he went or with whom?

He paused a moment, looking perplexed at the hat in his hands. "Er...yes. I, fear, I cannot stay. Business calls me away."

"That is unfortunate for the lady with you." Perhaps he was always coming and going, she thought. A busy man with no time for entertainment. He had looked rather bored when she spied him in that box.

"Lady Newcombe will understand."

But despite his supposed haste to leave, he made no move now— except to roll the brim of his hat between his fingers.

"Since you are departing, sir, and I may not see you again, I shall come directly to the point."

"There's more?" he muttered.

"Did you pay off my mother's debt to the owner of the landau?"

His gaze devoured her hotly.

"Well?" she demanded. "Did you meddle in her affairs too?"

"I do not like to see a lady in distress," he admitted finally.

Raven shook her head. "You must realize that my brother could have done that for her, if he thought it necessary. But he and I are attempting to make our mother manage her money better. A few days of minor discomfort, surviving without a carriage, would do her more benefit than strange men paying her bills. She must be made to see that there are consequences to her improvident spending."

His puzzled gaze focused on her lips and became very intense. "
You
think about consequences?"

Of course he thought she
— a pampered chit of a girl—
did not
.
"I am always attentive to the consequences of my actions."

Apparently deep in thought, he studied her hair again, while his fingers worked continually at the brim of his hat, turning it back and forth.

Raven sighed. "So please do not view my mother as a damsel in distress. If you involve yourself in her troubles you will soon find that rather than ameliorate hers, you have only succeeded in increasing your own."

The hat was finally still. "Does the same warning apply in the case of her daughter?"

"Me? I am never in distress."

"You seem to be now." He solemnly pointed with one finger. "Your face is quite pink with anger and the fire in your eyes suggests vexation. I believe, young lady, you are one foot stomp away from high dudgeon."

"Well, I daresay you know the signs, since you and your pompous manner must be the cause of it for a great many women."

"I quite fail to see how I have earned so much of your anger."

She stared at him in disbelief.

He added, "I caught you in a prank that could have caused you bodily harm."

"And without knowing me at all, you assumed the right to reprimand me."

"I assumed the right to warn you against a liaison that could do neither you, nor Bourne— whom I
do
know only too well— any possible good." He sighed and looked down at his hat. "The delivery of that warning was, perhaps—"

"Arrogant?"

"High handed." His gaze returned to her face. "In which case, I apologize."

"Oh." With hesitant fingers she touched the pearls at her throat. A confession of regret or guilt were the last things she expected from him.

"It is a misfortune that you and I were not introduced under different, more conventional circumstances, Miss Deverell. Although, I suppose, that would never have happened. Since I hear you
despise
tea."

Aha! Was that a smile? Yes. A little bit of one.

She struggled to keep her own in check. After all, she'd promised herself that she would be very stern and no-nonsense this time. "Indeed. That I came to your notice at all, sir, was entirely by regrettable chance."

He took a step closer and his eyes narrowed. "Chance? Will you pretend that you did not wink at me from the back of that horse?"

"I had something in my eye. A...a little," she raised her thumb and forefinger to show him the approximate size, "tiny speck of mud."

"Is that so?"

"Did you think I schemed to win your notice?" She backed away a step.

"You would not be the first young lady to do so."

Well, she would crush that idea at once. "You may rest assured, your lordship, that you are safe from me. I am in pursuit of my own contentment, not of a husband."

"You're very... forthright, Miss Deverell."

"Yes, I'm told it runs in my family."

He resumed the turning of his hat brim between those restive fingers. "In the matter of your mother, I am duly chastened and will remember your rebuke the next time I think of assisting a lady. How very despicable of me. I must be out of practice in these matters too. As I am in the art of losing."

His features were so steady now, she had no idea whether he teased her. After waiting in vain for another little change in his features to give him away, she finally replied cautiously, "Well, I suppose you meant to be helpful. I may have over-reacted, in which case
I
apologize."

"Very occasionally the desire strikes me to do a good deed." His lip bent up stiffly at one corner and wobbled before he straightened it ruthlessly again.

"And you could not possibly have expected to get something in return, because you are a gentleman— according to my mother— and not a wolf, like some men."

"Am I?" His gaze stroked her hair yet again. What
was
he looking for?

Suddenly she knew what it was about her first sight of him that had struck her as sad. His damned hat. The brim of it was misshapen and wilted. Now she saw how it was abused. The pitiable object must have been tormented for years and it seemed as if he wore the same hat for all occasions. A man of his wealth ought to be able to afford a new hat for every day of the week, yet he showed clear preference for the old one.

"What happened to your eye?" she asked, curiosity winning out over her determination not to care.

"A slight mishap."

"You should apply raw beef-steak."

"Ah. Is that so?"

"Of course. Don't you have anybody to look after you?" As soon as she spoke she wished the words back, remembering that he was a widower.

He stared at her, apparently perplexed by the question.

More people now filled the corridor, slyly observing the two of them. She looked for Damon, preparing to make her escape before she said anything worse.

"I hope the formal announcement of Lord Bourne's engagement has not caused you too much upset," Hale muttered suddenly, just as she was about to walk away.

"Do not worry about me, your lordship. My father raised all his children to be survivors. People might not think much of Deverells, he likes to say, but they can't ignore us because we're not going away and we'll outlive them all." She didn't really know why she said all that, but it seemed important that he know. "Excuse me." She'd finally caught sight of Damon.

Hale said nothing, so she gave a sort of curtsey and began her way down the steps to where her half-brother stood with some of his friends. The surging crowd of people, however, slowed her progress, almost to a stop.

A group of young women looked her way, sneering and smug, gossiping behind their fans.

"Isn't that the Deverell girl?"

"Why, I believe it is. They say Matthew Bourne's father was desperate to get him out of her clutches."

"What father wouldn't be?" Scornful laughter. "She's no better than her brothers."

And then an attempt at hushed concern. "The Bournes have had enough tragedy."

"Precisely."

"Most decent folk will not disport themselves at any party where Deverells are invited. I am shocked the Winstanleys took such a risk."

Raven kept her head high. It was nothing she hadn't heard before. But while moving forward rapidly now, she missed her footing on the edge of a carpeted step and slipped.

Two hands came behind her, catching her around the waist a split second before she fell back.

She knew it was Hale.

He gripped her around the waist as if she was a priceless ornament that had almost fallen from his grasp. When she looked up over her shoulder, her hands upon his, her gallant rescuer's expression was tightly guarded.

"Beware, Miss Deverell," he muttered softly in her ear. "A
gentleman
like myself might be a very reserved and patient wolf. But he's still a wolf."

After a breathless moment he released her, turned, retrieved the hat he'd dropped, and walked back up the steps with his long stride. He passed the gossiping women and silenced them with a single glance of brutal disdain. They were left to stare in astonishment, humiliation and mild outrage from behind those aggressively fluttering fans.