Ecstasy (Notorious 4)

If her misgivings about marriage were profuse yesterday when she was about to fulfill her long-held dreams with her ideal match, they were utterly rampant now. But she had no choice, she reminded herself, trying to curb her panic. Indeed, she was fortunate that Lasseter had agreed to rescue her.

“Well, then,” her aunt said, returning to practical matters, “we have a great number of preparations to make. Raven, while Mr. Lasseter sees to the special license, you must write Halford and give him to understand the circumstances and beg his forgiveness.”

“Yes,” she agreed, grateful for the distraction. “I owe him an apology of some kind. And I should send a word of explanation to Brynn and Lucian…”

“And I will do the same with my chief acquaintances,” her aunt added, “while Jervis sends a notice to the papers.”

Lasseter interrupted, addressing Raven. “It would be better for you to write from Richmond. The longer you remain here, the harder it will be to support the pretense that we were wed last evening. As it is, we can say that we only stopped here to inform your family of our union.”

“Yes,” Raven agreed, seeing the wisdom of his suggestion. “We should be on our way.”

“Is such unseemly haste really necessary?” Lady Dalrymple protested-simply, her niece suspected, because she disliked someone else being in charge. “Raven should at least be allowed to change her gown for something more suitable.”

“No, Aunt Catherine, Mr. Kendrick is right. My attire isn’t overly important. But I will eventually need access to my belongings. My trunks were packed for my remove to Halford House. Were they delivered there yet?”

“Not yet. With all the chaos yesterday-”

“Her trunks can be retrieved once we decide on living arrangements,” Lasseter said with an edge of impatience.

“But a valise was prepared for her wedding trip,” her ladyship insisted. “She should be permitted to take it with her. She cannot go about town looking like a ragamuffin.” The suggestion was accompanied by a derisive look at Raven’s ill-fitting skirts.

“Perhaps that would be wise,” Raven agreed, remembering that the valise would contain a nightdress among other garments.

“Very well,” he acceded.

Rising, Lady Dalrymple rang for Broady and instructed the grave-faced butler to have Miss Kendrick’s valise loaded at once onto Mr. Lasseter’s carriage.

After that, there seemed to be little more to be said except for farewell. Raven, however, couldn’t help but contrast her leavetaking now with the previous day’s. Yesterday she had been about to marry an illustrious duke; today she would wed a notorious gamester who was suspected of murder…

Her relatives’ qualms were almost as great as her own, it seemed. Her aunt remained icily polite, while her grandfather was actually distraught. Lord Luttrell took her hands in his own trembling ones and squeezed her fingers hard.

“If you ever find yourself in need, my dear…I hope you know you can count on me.”

A sudden ache of emotion tightened her throat: surprise, gratitude, affection. She was amazed and relieved that her grandfather didn’t mean to treat her in the scurrilous way he had her mother. Her voice sounded raspy when she murmured her thanks.

Her grandfather then turned to Lasseter with a fierce stare. “If you harm her in any way, I warn you, sir, you will answer to me.”

“Grandfather-” Raven objected, feeling the injustice of the remark, but Lasseter offered the elderly nobleman a cool smile.

“I intend to save her, Lord Luttrell, not harm her. You will have to be satisfied with that.”

Raven intended to apologize for her grandfather’s animosity once they were out of earshot, but Michael O’Malley was waiting for her directly outside the salon door, pacing the hall.

The groom’s expression held despair and remorse and more than a little concern.

“Oh, Miss Raven, I feared…Sure and I had to see for myself that you were all right,” he said in his Irish lilt.

“I’m fine, O’Malley, truly.”

Beside her, she felt Lasseter stiffen at the name. He eyed the groom sharply but didn’t comment.

“Who was the bastard responsible?” O’Malley demanded. “That scurvy case Lasseter, was it?”

“Yes,” Raven murmured, “but please keep your voice down. I don’t want it advertised. In fact, I intend to try to put it behind me.” She hesitated. “This is his brother, Mr. Kell Lasseter. He has agreed to wed me, O’Malley.”

“Wed?” The elderly groom looked shocked for a moment, before his gaze narrowed in piercing scrutiny. “Saints preserve us.”

The two men regarded each other with almost dislike while Raven quietly explained the need for her unexpected union.