He gave a brief bow, while the elderly lady stiffened.
“Lasseter? Of the Derbyshire Lasseters?”
“The same, my lady,” he responded.
“You are Adam Lasseter’s eldest son.” When he didn’t deny it, a mingled look of horror and distaste claimed her haughty features. “I am acquainted with your unsavory reputation, sir! You are a notorious gamester, your mother was an Irish nobody, and it is common knowledge that you murdered your uncle!”
Shocked by the last charge, Raven couldn’t help but stare at Lasseter.
The smile he gave was dangerous. “I wonder which you consider my greatest crime, Lady Dalrymple? The fact that I’m a gamester, of Irish blood, or rumored to be a murderer?”
She shuddered, while her hands rose to her cheeks in dismay. “Dear God. I had hoped…We are ruined!” She suddenly glowered at her great-niece. “How could you, Raven? How could you bring this murderer into our midst?”
“Murderer?”
Raven gave a start to hear her grandfather’s gruff voice. He had descended the stairs halfway, garbed in his dressing gown, and his face was flushed with outrage.
Holding on to the banister with one shaking hand, Lord Luttrell pointed his cane at Lasseter. “Seize that man!”
For a moment, no one moved. Then the footmen suddenly understood the command and hastened to obey, leaping forward to apprehend Lasseter.
When they tried to grab his arms, however, he fended them off with lightning-quick reflexes-lashing out with his fists and delivering several hard blows to the face and stomach of each footman, felling them both with ease.
Raven gasped to see the two strapping servants lying on the parquet floor, groaning and wheezing for breath. Even injured, Lasseter had been more than a physical match for them-although now he was gritting his teeth, obviously in pain from the bullet wound in his thigh.
“Damnation, I said seize him!” her grandfather roared.
When the elderly butler moved forward, Raven hastily stepped into his path, holding her arms out wide, shielding Lasseter and determined to protect the aging butler as well. “Broady, stop!”
She cast a frantic glance above her. “Grandfather, you don’t know what you are doing.”
“I do! I intend to have that scoundrel arrested and thrown in prison!”
“You are gravely mistaken. He is not a scoundrel!”
“If he abducted my granddaughter-”
“But he didn’t! Indeed, he rescued me from the brutes who thought to hold me hostage.” She hesitated only an instant before embellishing her tale further. “Moreover, he was wounded defending me. Truly, I owe him a debt of gratitude.”
“Finally you admit it,” she heard Lasseter mutter in a wry undervoice.
Raven gave him a sharp glance over her shoulder, daring him to challenge her lies. She thought she saw a mocking gleam of humor in his dark, penetrating gaze, along with something that appeared almost like admiration as he stood there flexing his bruised knuckles.
Her great-aunt, however, had a look of stark shock on her face to see two of her servants splayed on the floor of her magnificent entrance hall.
“Broady,” Raven murmured, “will you please assist them?”
With a brief glance at her ladyship, the butler answered, “Of course, Miss Raven,” and hurried to comply.
When he had helped the footmen to their feet and escorted them toward the rear of the house, Lady Dalrymple shook herself from her stupor and resumed her tone of haughty outrage. “What in heaven’s name are you thinking, Raven Kendrick?” She glared at Lasseter. “I will not have this…savage in my house.”
His own gaze remained cool, and so did his tone. “It pains me to disoblige you, my lady, but I have no intention of leaving until this situation with your niece is resolved.”
Raven intervened hastily. “Mr. Lasseter should be allowed to sit down, for I’m certain his wound is paining him. And Grandfather, you must sit as well. You should never have left your bed.”
“Well, you are the reason he was driven to his sickbed!” her aunt retorted caustically.
“Why don’t we repair to the parlor to discuss this in a civilized manner?” Raven replied, gritting her teeth.