by Cheryl Holt
Raven viewed himself as a shrewd, cunning judge of character and motive. He was never wrong. He never miscalculated. Why, when dealing with Lucas, was he so easily duped?
“What will he do to her?” Melville asked.
“What do you think he’ll do?” Raven crudely retorted, and he muttered, “If he hasn’t done it already.”
Melville’s shoulders slumped. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned? She’s a gullible maiden from a small village in the country, and he’s a rich, worldly scoundrel. There’s no predicting what might happen to her.”
“Let your imagination run free. My brother is capable of any nefarious conduct.”
“He’ll ruin her.”
“Yes.”
“How long will he amuse himself?”
“A week? A month? His passing fancies never entice him for more than a month.”
“Then what?”
Melville’s expression was condemning. He was trying to make Raven feel guilty, but he never could. Lucas’s foibles were his own, and Raven couldn’t prevent or fix them.
“What are you demanding, Melville?” Raven inquired. “Should I gallop after them and force her home?”
“Yes, that’s precisely how you should respond!”
“What would I be forcing her home for or to? In three days, I will march into Carter Crossing and evict the occupants.”
“So the rumors are true?”
“I own their estate now.” Raven admitted it without an ounce of shame.
“You’re so eager to destroy them? You hate them that much?”
“Yes—for what they did to my father and for what Clayton did to my sister.”
Melville scowled. “What did he do to your sister?”
“I’m betting you can figure it out without any clarification from me.”
“Is that why you’re content to have your brother ruin Millicent? Is it wrapped up in the revenge you seek?”
“I hadn’t realized he’d seduced her, and I can’t fathom what he’s thinking.”
“If he proceeds, how is he any better than Clayton?”
“Drop it, Melville. I’m not a philosopher, and I won’t debate moral issues with you.”
Melville switched to another topic. “You’ll kick Mrs. Carter out on the road?”
“Yes.”
“What about the servants?”
“They’re not my problem.”
“Some of their families have worked at that property for generations.”
“Then this will be the last generation that works there.”
“You don’t care about Carter Crossing. Why take it? Why wreck the livelihood of so many people?”
“Because I can,” Raven bluntly said.
“What are your plans for the manor? What about the fields and the gardens and the orchards?”
“I intend to raze the house, and I’ll let the fields, gardens, and orchards go fallow. In a year or two, it will be as if the Carters never resided there a single minute.”
Melville was a determined nuisance, and he looked aggrieved and heroic. “After you’ve carried out your horrible deeds, how can you remain in the Frinton area? You’ll be a pariah who is shunned by all.”
“Why would that bother me?”
“Everyone needs friends, Mr. Shawcross.”
If Raven decided he needed a friend, he’d get himself a dog.
“Are we finished?” he asked. “I’m busy, and it appears you’ve fully shared your concerns.”
Melville’s lips were pursed in a tight line. “You won’t go after them?”
“No, I won’t.”
“You are a famed member of Sir Sidney’s exploration team, and Sir Sidney was practically a saint in this country. Is this how he’d like to see you acting?”
“Trust me: Sir Sidney wasn’t a saint, and neither am I.”
“Fine!” Melville fumed. “Evict Mrs. Carter. Fire the servants. Demolish the manor. When your vengeance is complete, will you finally be happy?”
“Yes. I expect I’ll be very, very happy.”
“What about Miss Rebecca?”
“What about her?”
“Will you kick her out too? I could have sworn you’d developed tender feelings for her.”
“I haven’t.” As Raven uttered the huge falsehood, he hoped he wouldn’t be struck by lightning.
“You were dallying with her merely for sport?”
“I guess.”
“What are your plans for her?”
“I have no plans,” Raven said.
“Just as I suspected.” Melville scoffed derisively. “Your brother is a cad, and you are too.”
“I wish you’d stop visiting me. Each time you stroll in, you annoy me a bit more.”
“I shall save you from further aggravation, sir. It is my extreme desire that I never suffer the misfortune of chatting with you ever again. And I shall ride to London and confront your brother myself.”
“You shouldn’t. Miss Carter won’t welcome your intervention, and she isn’t worth the effort. You’ll simply wind up embarrassing yourself.”
“We’ll see how she feels when I arrive. After spending a few days with your despicable sibling, she may have come to her senses. She may be delighted to be rescued.”
“I doubt it, and if you irk Lucas overly much, he’ll simply stab you in the heart and dump your body in the Thames. He’s testy that way.”
“If that is even remotely true, then I have to declare that the world would be a better place without either of you.”
Melville doffed his hat and stomped out, and Raven stood in his decrepit parlor, listening as Melville climbed into his gig and drove away. The quiet settled, the only noise the hum of voices from the carpenters in the other section of the house.
From the moment Melville had slithered in, Raven’s temper had been flaring, and with the oaf’s snotty departure, his rage was burning even hotter.
He’d warned Lucas away from Millicent Carter, and Lucas had proceeded anyway. Raven could jump on a horse and race to London. He could beat Lucas to a pulp for being such an idiot, but what good would it do?
What had Miss Carter believed was occurring with Lucas? The foolish child likely thought handsome, dashing Lucas was madly in love and would wed her. Or perhaps she realized he wasn’t ensnared yet, and she assumed she could convince him to fall in love.
But Lucas was broken on the inside. He didn’t have the kind of feelings that a normal person experienced. He would trick, use, and abuse Miss Carter, then he’d discard her when a prettier, looser girl caught his roving eye. Where would she be then?
Well, her problems weren’t Raven’s problems, but he was devastated by Lucas’s conduct. Even though he understood his brother’s lack of emotion and his odd views, he was incensed that Lucas hadn’t embraced his plot with regard to the Carters, that he’d fled to town and had left Raven to finish it on his own.
He’d desperately wanted Lucas to be by his side. Lydia was dead, so she couldn’t be with him. There was only Lucas to mark the occasion, but Lucas didn’t care about their parents or any of the rest of it, and Raven couldn’t make him care.
There was a sledgehammer in the corner. A parlor wall was cracked beyond repair, and the plaster had to be chipped away, then a new layer applied. He grabbed it and began swinging it at the wall.
With the first strike, he slammed through the old plaster with thrilling force. He pounded at it over and over, his fury pouring into the blows. He would keep at it until his wrath waned or until his arms grew too fatigued to continue.
“Raven!” a woman snapped from behind him.
Rebecca…
He whipped around. “What?”
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m remodeling.”
“You’re upset. What happened?”
“Nothing happened. Why are you here? What is it you need?”
/> “I have to talk to you.”
“So…talk,” he curtly said.
His rude attitude gave her pause. She studied him as if he was a stranger, and he supposed he was quite a sight: sweaty, breathing hard, covered in dust, his palms blistered from gripping the sledgehammer so tightly.
She squared her shoulders and forged ahead. “I’ve quarreled with Beatrice.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that, and you shouldn’t have bothered me about it.” The words were out before he could bite them down. “You have to work it out with her.”
She blanched as if he’d slapped her. “I can’t work it out with her, and I didn’t know where else to turn. She’s evicted me, and I’m so distraught. Tell me what to do.”
“I have no idea.”
“Could I stay with you?” At her request, the horror must have shown on his face because she hurried to add, “Just for a few days? Until I can devise a plan for myself?”
“For pity’s sake, I’m a bachelor, and this monstrosity of a house is barely livable. It’s a totally inappropriate option.”
Her expression darkened. She marched over until they were toe to toe, then she lowered her voice. “I spent the night with you.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
She gasped. “That’s your response?”
His cheeks heated. He was behaving like an ass, like a big, fat juvenile baby. He was angry with Lucas, so he was taking it out on her, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from acting like a complete bastard.
The weight of the prior year—which included Sir Sidney’s death and Nathan’s maiming—was crushing him with regret. His leaving the expedition team was crushing him.
Lucas was a wrecked human being who’d grown up alone and adrift. Raven hadn’t been there to protect him. Lydia had been destroyed too, by Clayton Carter who’d never had to pay a penny of recompense.
As with Lucas, she’d been alone during her tribulations, and Raven had been far away in Africa, chasing the wealth required to save her. But he’d been too late to save her or Lucas.
Mr. Melville had asked—once he’d extracted his vengeance—would he be happy? He didn’t think so.
He felt as if he was out of his body and staring down at Oakley and Rebecca. She was the only good thing he’d encountered in ages, but if he let her get close, he’d destroy her in the end too. He typically destroyed what he touched.
If he bound himself to her, he’d eventually ignore an important detail or he’d be absent when she needed him or he’d be too busy to focus on her, and she’d be imperiled. Why would he deliberately endanger her?
They shared a hot, searing attraction, and it had ignited on one torrid occasion. It had been incredibly grand, but he wouldn’t claim it created a connection, and it didn’t matter how fervidly she yearned for a different conclusion. He wouldn’t oblige her.
He inhaled deeply, struggling to rein in his temper. “You shouldn’t have come over here. I’m not having the greatest day.”
“Mine hasn’t been too keen either.”
“You should be at home, planning where you and Beatrice will go after I’ve kicked her out. I’m shutting down Carter Crossing. I’m not jesting. You know I’m not, and people should begin preparing.”
“I don’t care how it unravels over there,” she vehemently stated. “I just care about you, and I should be by your side as it unfolds. Actually, I should be by your side forever. You swore I would be, and I accepted your word about it.”
He assessed her as if she were deranged. “You talk as if I’m in the market for a bride. Have I ever uttered a single comment to you that would make you think I was ready to be a husband?”
She flinched so violently he might have punched her. “I joined you in your bed! Or have you conveniently forgotten that fact?”
“I haven’t forgotten. It was wonderful, and I’m glad we proceeded.”
“You’re glad?”
“What would you like me to say? Were you expecting me to propose?”
“Yes, Mr. Shawcross, I was expecting exactly that.”
He blew out a heavy breath, then he said the worst thing he’d ever said, the one thing that couldn’t be unsaid. “Rebecca, you’re a Carter. Even if I was eager to wed, I would never marry a Carter. Surely you understand that, and if you don’t, then it’s clear you haven’t been paying attention.”
“I’m a Carter?” she spat. “Is that how you intend to avoid a commitment to me?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Could we discuss this another time? As I mentioned, I’m having a terrible day, and my every remark sounds wrong.”
“There’s naught wrong with your remarks, Mr. Shawcross. I comprehend them perfectly.”
“Don’t call me Shawcross. Call me Raven.”
“I can’t, for it appears, Mr. Shawcross, that we are no longer on familiar terms.”
If he’d had the energy to debate the issue, he would have, but he was too overwhelmed by events. He motioned to the door. “You should go for now. I’ll try to stop by later, but you shouldn’t come here again.”
“Or what?” she snidely inquired. “Will you send me to bed without my supper? You are not my father or my husband. Don’t boss me.”
“I’m not bossing you. I’m simply asking you to depart so we can confer when I’m in a better mood.”
She laughed a tad hysterically. “What is it that we would confer about when your mood has improved? Would we rehash the pesky problem that I’m a Carter and you hate all Carters?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” She shook her head with derision. “Were you fond of me in the slightest?”
“It’s not a past tense sentiment. I am very fond of you.”
She bristled with disgust. “Gad, I am such a fool. I…I…love you, and this is how you treat me?”
He scoffed. “You don’t love me.”
“I guess I was confused, but I thought maybe you were starting to love me too.”
“I’ve never loved anyone. It’s not possible for me. I’ve had too much happen in my life. I’m broken on the inside.”
“We’ve all had awful experiences. Don’t use your deplorable history as an excuse for being an ass.”
“I won’t.” He pointed to the door again. “Would you please go?”
“Answer a question for me first.”
“If I can.”
“If we hadn’t had this conversation, how many times would you have let me disgrace myself by climbing into your bed?”
“I don’t know,” he candidly said.
“You coaxed me into it because I’m a Carter, didn’t you? You ruined me as part of your scheming on Beatrice and Clayton. There were no tender feelings involved. I was just easy bait.”
“I can’t explain my motives. I simply like you more than I should, and I’ve behaved badly because of it.”
“Beatrice warned me about you. She swore you weren’t sincere. She swore you’d never follow through on any promise.”
“What promise did I make? I can’t recall one. I’m not a man who makes promises because I don’t like to be burdened by them.”
“Truer words were never spoken, Mr. Shawcross.”
Before he could brace himself, she raised a hand and slapped him as hard as she could. The blow landed square on his cheek, so ferociously that he staggered.
She whirled away and dashed out toward the trail that led over the promontory. He lurched out behind her and shouted, “Rebecca! Stop!” She didn’t slow down, and he tried again. “Rebecca!”
Finally, she halted and glared at him over her shoulder. “I don’t think any woman has ever cared about you, Mr. Shawcross. I would have. I would have loved you forever, and I hope you’re happy with your vengeance and your decrepit, dreary mansion. I’m sure they’ll keep you plenty warm on cold winter nights.”
“I won’t be happy. I’m certain of it.”
/> “Well, I am certain that we all get precisely what we deserve in the end. Good luck to you!”
She continued on, and he yelled her name over and over, to no avail. He could have chased after her, but he wouldn’t embarrass himself. They’d fornicated—once!—and it was widely acknowledged that virgins struggled with their emotions after they were initially deflowered.
No doubt she was distraught over their risqué tryst, and he should have been kinder, should have been more patient, but he’d been too grouchy to deal with her. He’d been a complete prick, and the slap he’d received had been totally warranted.
He’d go over that evening. He hadn’t planned to visit Carter Crossing until he arrived with his team of men to throw Beatrice out. Now, with Rebecca in such a state, he’d have to visit much sooner than that.
It was another factor to aggravate him, to stir his temper and fuel his ire. She didn’t…love him. She was being ridiculous, but he couldn’t bear that he’d upset her.
He’d have to beg her pardon, and he’d spend the rest of the afternoon figuring out how to manage it because, clearly, he’d mucked up their meeting in the worst possible way. He’d talk to her later. He’d profusely apologize, and she’d forgive him. He just knew she would.
* * * *
Rebecca ran into the manor and flew up the stairs to her bedchamber. As she reached it, several servants were there.
“What’s wrong?” a footman asked. “Mrs. Carter sent me to check that you’d vacated the premises. She said if you hadn’t left, I was to tell you your hour is up, and she would be summoning the authorities as she threatened.”
“I’ve been fired and evicted.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
The group gasped with dismay, and there were mutters of outrage on her behalf, which were comforting to hear. After her hideous encounter with Mr. Shawcross, she was incredibly bereft. It was sweet to be reminded that there were people in the world who liked her.
“Shall I speak to Mrs. Carter for you?” the footman asked. “Or the butler might be willing to intervene. She can’t treat you like this.”
