Chasing Raven (5 page)

* * * *

Alone in her bed chamber, Raven sat at her dresser, opened her reticule and found a bank cheque written for one thousand pounds. His handwriting was very neat, very orderly, and there was his signature.

Sebastian Rockingham Hale.

The tall, sloping pillars of the "H" were grandly struck against the paper by a determined, confidently wielded pen.

So he had paid the wager, but left it in her hands. Why give it to her, instead of Matthew? She looked at her reflection in the mirror and shook her head. There was nothing to be gained by trying to understand that man's motives. She would likely never see him again.

Slowly she ran a fingertip over his signature.

What did Matty call him? A self-righteous prig. Exactly right!

Perhaps the Bourne family had asked Hale to intervene and separate her from their son?

Her shoulders slumped. She rested her elbows on the dresser, her head in her hands.

She was not in love with Matty, so she could not be genuinely angry about his potential engagement. But she could be exceedingly cross about an officious man she'd only just met trying to manage her life, spoil her fun, and tell her what to do. As if she was a child. Nobody else had ever got away with that, so why should he?

"
It's a very good thing that you don't own me, your lordship, and I don't have to listen to you."

"Would you listen to me if I did own you?"

He was possibly the oddest, most vexing and interfering man she'd ever met in the entire course of her life.

When she buried her face in one puffed silk sleeve, she was surrounded by the richly spiced scent of a very distinctive cologne water.

He had marked her, she realized, appalled. He had marked her all over as if he did, in fact, own her. Or he planned to.

Chapter
Seven

Her mother claimed a sore head the next morning and refused to get fully dressed. Instead she reclined like an elegantly wounded, exotic bird that, once abandoned by its flock, had fallen to the chaise by the fire in one dramatic flourish. With a deeply troubled sigh to ruffle the lush, ostrich-feather collar of her bed robe, she surveyed her daughter with heavy eyes and reviewed the many disappointments of her life. The latest of which, happened to be Raven's fault, and not due to an excess of champagne punch drunk the night before.

"Thanks to you, child, I suffered a most unsatisfactory night's repose. I hope you are content. At my age one cannot afford many sleepless, agitated evenings. It takes a wretched toll upon one's skin."

"How did I disturb you, mama?"

"Had you bothered to smile at Hale last night and troubled yourself to be pleasant for a quarter of an hour, I daresay he would have put off going back to his estate and come to tea with us. Then certain people in this town would be sorry they ever gave me the cut. With Hale by our side we could do no wrong. We would be invited to more events than we could possibly attend. But no, you could not do that small thing for me."

"We were invited to the Winstanleys'."

"And what a waste that was, since you let the one worthwhile fish in your net slip away." She screwed up her nose. "Besides, the Winstanleys only invited us out of respect for my father's memory. That connection is slight and grows thinner every year. Now dear papa is gone..." Raising a lace-trimmed handkerchief to her face, she dabbed away a non-existent tear. "They have no care for me or the trials I suffer. Why should they? They need nothing from me and I can do naught for them. This world is all about what people can get from each other, as I've told you before."

"Yes, mama." Like her mother, Raven had woken that morning very out of sorts, but she couldn't put her finger on any particular ailment, so she blamed it on the weather. This half-hearted drizzle shivering against the window was enough to make a saint put his fist through the glass, she thought dourly.

"To get a man like Hale within your grasp and then to idly push him aside...ugh, I despair of you, Raven! You do not appreciate the advantages you've been given, or the many things I do for you."

As was typical of her mother, she took the credit for Hale noticing her daughter, even though she had no idea of the mischief that led to it.

"Mama, he's too old for me and far too grim."

"Nonsense. Hale is not long turned thirty. He is, in fact, an ideal age for you. And vastly more use than that dreadful boy, Matthew Bourne! I should have known the Bournes had some other girl in mind, but I let you go about with him for weeks at the exclusion of all other prospects. Now here we are. That sapling is about to be engaged elsewhere and we have lost more time. You are cast aside like an old stocking, and I am rendered so grievously ill that I can barely lift a cup. It is humiliating! I've a mind to sue the Bournes for breach of promise."

When Lady Charlotte was upset and thought herself ill-used, she did not rest until she had her vengeance. Some years ago she had whispered so many awful things about her former husband into her eldest son Ransom's ear, that the boy had gone out and shot at his father with a dueling pistol.

Nobody was killed, much to Lady Charlotte's disappointment. But it served as a warning of how far she would go to get her revenge.

Raven warmed her hands on the cup of hot chocolate as she stood by a window, staring out at Brook Street and a very dreary day. It did not feel much like May today— more like February. An eternally damp February from which there could be no escape.

"Your anger is misplaced, mama. There was never any promise between Matty and I. We are friends, as we always have been, and that is all. It is harmless."

"A young, unwed woman and an eligible bachelor cannot be friends, Raven. No. He let us believe he had serious intentions, and I allowed him to escort you about the place in full expectation of an engagement. He has betrayed my trust, and he shall not see you unaccompanied again."

This made her want to laugh. Her mother's interest in the men she went about with had never extended far beyond the state of their finances. Now, quite suddenly, she became the concerned "Duenna". All because the interfering Earl of Southerton brought it to her attention.

"It is despicable that Bourne should run about with you while sneakily becoming engaged to another. He took advantage of my kind nature and generosity."

Now that was truly fudging the facts.

But her mother rambled onward, "You, young lady, have terrible taste in men."

And where did
I get it from
, she mused darkly, watching lines of rain wriggle down the window, racing each other. One of the larger drops swallowed up another and then went merrily on its way.

Behind her on the chaise, her mother sought for a thread of something to preserve from the wreckage of their evening. "At least Guy Hammond seemed very keen last night, despite your offhand treatment of his attention."

Guy Hammond. Raven sighed, her breath misting the glass. Hammond was another boy who could not stand up to her, let alone stand beside her. Another leaf in the wind, she thought listlessly.

"I shouldn't be surprised if he calls upon you today. He may have been put off by Bourne's attentions before— they have, after all, been very marked all these weeks. But now he will see the field is clear. And despite Viscount Faulkner's title, Hammond is worth far more."

Both Hammond and Felix Faulkner had sent Raven flowers that morning— gaudy, beribboned bundles that clogged the room with a pungent, sickly cloud. She had never been fond of cut flowers and thought them much prettier when left to grow in a garden. It seemed cruel to her that they be chopped down and brought inside, just to shrivel and die for the selfish pleasure of a few people, for a sad day or two.

Matthew Bourne had also sent her a note, although she kept that from her mother. He wanted to see her today, but in this rain she would be hard pressed to find a believable reason to go out. In truth, she didn't want to see him. What would he say to her today? Make silly promises he could not keep? And which she would not want him to keep?

Hale had sent nothing.

But he would not leave her mind. Although she blamed her mother for continually bringing his name up, Hale had been just as constant in her thoughts all night long as he was in their conversation this morning.

With those strong, firm hands and a low, steady voice that suggested he never encountered an argument, he had lurked in the shadows of her dream. He'd woken her a few times, too, in a manner she didn't care to think about.

So he was a widower. Since she had never heard that fact before last night, how could she have known to hold her tongue? But when she thought of the things she'd said to him about putting women in their graves to keep them safe...no wonder he had looked at her the way he did.

Her stomach hurt.

"Everyone at the ball was talking about Hale," her mother continued.

"What about him? That he was so inappropriately attired for a ball?"

"A man like Hale can dress however he chooses. There isn't a soul alive who would question it, when merely to have him attend an event is a social coup. No, they were talking because it's ten years since Hale danced with anybody, and it created quite a maelstrom that he danced with you."

"How wearisome their lives must be then," she snapped, "if that's all they have to talk about."

Her mother let out another sigh, deflating further against the chaise. "Such a pity Hale has returned to the country, just when we made the acquaintance! And you did nothing to encourage the man to stay."

"Good God, mama, if his name is mentioned once more, I swear I'll shave off my eyebrows. I, for one, am exceedingly glad he's gone."

She absolutely refused to invest him with the power to upset her day.

As Raven stared at the rain, she eventually became aware of a dark shape moving along the street below and her eyes changed their focus to take in the sight of a familiar carriage and two roan horses. The consequent exclamation of surprise finally got her mother off the chaise, luring her to the window in a cloud of rose perfume and drifting feathers.

"My landau!" Lady Charlotte looked puzzled and then slowly her expression changed. She turned to Raven. "You know who did this."

"Do I?" She felt her heart sink as a familiar, calculating light came into her mother's eyes. "Of course! Hale."

"You're leaping to conclusions, mama. Why would he pay off your debt? What could he want in return?"

"Nothing. Because he's a gentleman. A
real
gentleman, not merely a wolf like most men. You have a lot to learn, Raven. Real gentlemen are a rarity and you have never met one before. Alas, now you do not recognize one when you do meet him."

Oh, lord, another man rushing to help her mother out. A man with more money than wit. At this rate the lady would never learn to look after herself. There was always someone to pick up her pieces.

"Dear Hale! Such chivalry! And why this expression, young lady? Even you must appreciate the convenience of this gift. You're always saying we should be more practical. This is a far better gift than foolish flowers that will drop their petals in a day and leave yellow powder all over the parquet. You will write to him at once, and express our deepest gratitude."

Cradling her hot chocolate in both hands, Raven moved away from the window and returned to the table. "Why should
I
write? You thank him if you must. It is your carriage. I'll spare my ink for some task more agreeable. And worthwhile."

Lady Charlotte began to fuss with her hair, studying her reflection in the window. "Pity he is fifteen years my junior."

"He acts a great deal older."

"He is, of course, a man of many responsibilities. The title and estate came to him when he was very young. I suppose it has given him a certain air of maturity beyond his years."

"And very shortly, no doubt, rheumatic aches and pains will follow. If he is not already beset by them." Raven pulled out a chair and sat to read the newspaper.

Tapping a fingernail against her reflection in the window, Lady Charlotte suddenly exclaimed, "Goodness, I am looking quite ill. What is happening to my neck? It is not supposed to look like that." She shook her head. "It's all this worry. Having a daughter to marry off — almost beyond her prime—and no one lending a hand to help me be rid of her. Your father shows not the slightest interest in your future. It is all left to me. Here I sit, trapped in this miserable little suite of rooms...fretting and getting ill."

"Slap on some face lotion and buy a new gown, mama. Or better yet, we can restore one you have already and make it seem new again. Then you'll feel better. Things generally improve in a new gown." Raven always enjoyed taking an old dress and giving it a fresh breath of life, although it was a struggle to make her mother take a cost cutting measure rather than order something entirely new.

A few moments later Lady Charlotte, recovering swiftly from her malaise, rang the bell by the fire for a hotel maid. "Speaking of gowns, did you not say you'd spilled something on your emerald silk last night, Raven? We should send it down to be cleaned."

"That's not necessary, mama. It's not a bad stain."

"Nonsense. Let the maid take it with mine and have it cleaned thoroughly."

"Mama, I can tackle the stain myself. I've only worn the gown once."

"We are not paupers, Raven, despite your strange insistence on this beastly idea of economy, which is so very middle-class. Your father might try to make us live like beggars while we're in London, but we can certainly afford to have a dress properly cleaned when its worn."

Raven banged her cup down hard in the saucer and almost cracked the china. "It doesn't need to be cleaned. Kindly leave it alone and stop making a fuss."

"Well, goodness. Such a temper! You can wear the blessed thing until it turns to rags if that's your pleasure!"

"I shall then."

Shortly after this conversation, the tense gloom was relieved by a visit from her closest friend, Mary Ashford, who called in to deliver a new book she'd promised to share. Thus, Raven hoped to put Hale out of her mind. For a while at least.

She was very fond of Mary, whom she first met when they were sent to the same tutor for French, music and dancing lessons— the skills considered most important and necessary for young ladies. Raven would have abhorred those lessons, if not for Mary's company, and she considered their friendship to be the one good thing to come out of that torture.

When Mary's family were forced to sell their ancestral home a few years ago and she was also obliged to give up the lessons, she and Raven remained friends.

Lady Charlotte looked down her nose at the Ashfords' "faded gentility."

"That plain, dull little thing will never get a husband without a dowry," she often remarked. "I do not know why you bother to keep up the acquaintance now that the Ashfords are reduced to such a sad state. They can be of no use to us."

But Raven admired Mary's sense of justice and trusted her judgment. Today she was especially glad to see the young woman and be reminded that not every respectable soul turned their nose up at the idea of being
her
friend.