Ecstasy n-4

by Nicole Jordan

  “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.

  Emma started to speak again but was interrupted when a boy of perhaps ten entered the library, unsteadily carrying a tea tray. He was followed by the majordomo whom Raven had met before.

  Under Timmons’s watchful regard, the boy carefully set the tray on the tea table, then looked up at the servant, seeking approval with a hint of fear in his eyes.

  Raven could scarcely contain her dismay at the boy’s appearance. Even though he was clean and well-groomed, he was thin to the point of emaciation. Worse, his face and hands sported numerous bruises and open sores that looked suspiciously like burns.

  “Thank you, Nate,” Emma said gently. “That was well done of you.”

  “Oi, mum.” His coarse accent suggested his lower class origins.

  When both the butler and boy had gone, Emma took up the teapot to pour, but she evidently saw Raven’s troubled frown and hastened to explain. “Nate was a climbing boy until last week. Kell discovered him in an alleyway being beaten by his master and forcibly purchased him.”

  Raven winced at the image. Climbing boys were little more than slaves and so often ill-treated-by being prodded up chimneys with knives and flaming torches-that they sometimes died.

  “I know.” Emma agreed with her unspoken thought. “A life of hell. But at least he has a future now. When his wounds heal, he will go to the foundling home that Kell supports.”

  “Foundling home?”

  “For orphaned boys.” Emma smiled. “Nate makes the thirteenth street urchin that Kell has rescued. A baker’s dozen. Kell feeds and clothes them, provides for their education, and sees they learn an occupation.”

  “How admirable,” Raven murmured, thinking how few true good deeds she had rendered in her own life.

  “Yes,” Emma replied. “I owe Kell a great deal myself. He saved me from a…a difficult situation with my former protector.”

  And me as well, Raven thought. Kell had saved her from a life as an outcast. “He seems to make a habit of rescuing people.”

  “Indeed,” Emma said softly. “He claims not to care, but he continues to protect the innocent and the abused.”

  Hearing the note of tenderness in Emma’s voice, Raven couldn’t help but wonder if more than admiration was its cause. Not for the first time, it occurred to her that Emma could be Kell’s mistress. It was even possible she might be in love with him.

  The thought sent an uncomfortable pang to the depths of Raven’s stomach. This woman knew her husband far more intimately than she herself ever was likely to. And she could well understand if he was attracted to the golden-haired woman in return. The hostess was older than Kell, perhaps nearing forty, but still incredibly beautiful.

  Yet in spite of her instinctive jealousy, Raven found herself liking Emma and feeling ashamed of her ungrateful thoughts. Thus far Emma had proven a firm ally. Admittedly her cordiality surprised Raven. She would have thought a mistress wouldn’t relish having an unexpected wife for a rival. But then, perhaps Emma didn’t consider her a rival for Kell’s affections, since he wasn’t sharing her bed.

  Raven was glad, however, when the talk turned to less serious matters, namely how a gaming hell was run. She was extremely curious about the notorious male world that had always been denied to her, and asked numerous questions, which Emma patiently answered.

  Her fascination was piqued further after tea during her guided tour of the club, when she was shown the large, richly paneled gaming room where the hazard table stood. O’Malley had taught her how to shoot dice, but she knew the game of hazard involved far more than tossing bits of ivory. It was a complex betting game where players wagered on the combinations thrown.

  The oval-shaped mahogany table was indented on either side-to provide a place for the croupier to stand, Raven presumed. The surface was covered with a fine green cloth marked with single and double yellow lines. Completing the table were chairs for the gamesters, boxes, bowls, and small hand rakes.

  “What are these used for?” Raven asked, indicating the accessories.

  “Those are dice boxes,” Emma explained. “The bowls are for holding counters-worth differing amounts of money-and the rakes are for drawing them in.”

  “And one player casts the dice?”

  “Yes. His initial throws establish what are called the main and the chance. How subsequent throws match those determines who wins and loses. The most successful players are able to calculate the odds of various casts. Shall I show you?”

  Raven started to reply that she would enjoy a demonstration, but just then a masculine voice sounded from behind her.

  “Would you care to explain what you’re doing in my gaming room?” her husband asked in a disapproving tone.

  Her pulse quickening, Raven glanced over her shoulder to find Kell moving toward her. Awareness shivered down her spine as she met his unsettling gaze. The physical effect he had on her never failed to startle her. The mere sound of his voice stirred her senses, while her blood seemed to thicken at his nearness.

  Disciplining her thoughts, however, she fished in her reticule and withdrew the dice she had brought with her, but kept them hidden in her closed fingers.

  “I was just showing Raven around,” Emma answered for her.

  “Thank you, but I will take over from here.”

  For a moment Emma looked as if she might argue, but then she offered Raven a smile and took her leave.

  “What are you doing here?” Kell repeated when the hostess had gone.

  “I was curious,” Raven replied. “I have never seen a game of hazard played.”

  “This is no place for a lady.”

  Raven arched an eyebrow. “You sound remarkably like my aunt. Do you really mean to suggest my presence here offends your sense of propriety?”

  Did it? Kell asked himself. It would be hypocritical to claim he didn’t want his wife at his gaming hell because it was improper. Some men, even rakes and libertines, became excessively conservative about their wives upon marriage, but it was absurd to be entertaining proprietary notions or feelings of possessiveness toward Raven. She wasn’t his wife in the true sense of the word-or even his woman.

  Yet he didn’t want her here. His club was his one haven from her. Ever since Raven had begun sharing his house, he’d found it impossible to shed his awareness of her. He didn’t want her invading his sole refuge. Not that he intended to let her know how profoundly she affected him.

  “Besides,” she was pointing out, “I understand from Emma that several ladies frequent your club.”

  “Perhaps, but they don’t have a scandal hanging over their heads. Or they don’t give a fig about their reputations. And you haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”

  “Actually, I wished to speak to you. I wanted to thank you, for one thing. I am profoundly grateful that you sent Sean away.”

  Kell nodded. “Very well, I’ll consider myself thanked. Now you can go.”

  Raven made a face. “You can’t evict me without undermining our pretense of being happily married.”

  Kell’s gaze narrowed. “I believe we had an agreement. If I escorted you to the Wycliffs’ ball, you pledged never to ask me for another favor, remember?”

  “This has nothing to do with favors. This concerns the fate of your club.” She hesitated. “Have you heard what Halford has been saying about you?”

  His lips thinned in a hard line. “I’ve heard,” he replied grimly.

  “Well, we must do something. We have to try to stem those terrible rumors.”

  “I doubt anything I could do would have an effect.”

  “Lord Wolverton has offered to sponsor you in society. Dare believes that if you would only ingratiate yourself with the ton’s leaders, you might be able to weather Halford’s accusations.”

  Kell shook his head. It rubbed painfully against the grain to accept help from anyone; most certainly he didn’t want to be beholden to Raven for her friends’ intervention. “I’m not about to accept charity
from the Marquess of Wolverton.”

  “It wouldn’t be charity in the least. He would be doing it for my sake. Besides, you are always aiding others. Emma told me about all the street urchins you’ve rescued. It is only fair that you be the recipient for a change.”

  Kell grimaced. He didn’t like having his secrets probed any more than he liked having to deal with his beautiful wife’s nearness. “You are much too interested in my affairs,” he observed.

  She didn’t respond to that charge but took another tack. “Kell…I can understand why you scorn society, but this is another matter altogether. Your club is in danger.”

  “It isn’t your concern.”

  “But it is.” Raven gave him an imploring look. “I am the reason your reputation is being maligned. I cannot simply meekly return home and forget the trouble you are in. I won’t stand idly by while you are ruined.”

  “I’m not giving you a choice. I don’t need or want your help.”

  Frustration shone in her blue eyes. “I don’t understand why you must be so stubborn!”

  Kell steeled himself against his own frustration, wishing Raven would just go away and leave him in peace. Her very nearness was a temptation. Yet if he wanted her gone, he would have to drive her away. But how, other than physical threats…?

  Assessing her, he responded to the devil prompting him. “There is only one thing I might want from you, vixen.”

  She looked taken aback. “Oh? And what is that?”

  “Perhaps you can guess.” He reached out to brush her breast through her gown, making her start in alarm. “Carnal relations. You can fulfill my carnal needs.”

  Her sharp intake of breath was supremely satisfying.

  “I see I have shocked you,” Kell murmured. “How entertaining to render you speechless.”

  Raven ignored his baiting, however, and searched his face, her gaze both serious and wary. “Do you truly want relations between us?”

  Kell felt his loins pulse at the prospect. Too clearly he remembered the tight, glorious fit of his hard flesh in the hot, wet softness of hers. “No,” he denied swiftly. “I’m perfectly satisfied with our mock marriage, with neither of us demanding or expecting anything from the other.”