If he was surprised by her unfamiliar meekness, he gave no sign. “You are sorry for making me appear the fool? For jilting me to wed a murderous blackguard? An Irish nobody, at that?”
Raven took a deep breath, finding it difficult to defend her new husband’s unsavory reputation when she knew so little about him. “He is not a murderer,” she said quietly. “Nor a blackguard.”
“He is a notorious gamester who made me the laughingstock of the ton by abducting my bride on the very day of my wedding.”
She shook her head, knowing it was unfair to let Halford direct his anger at Lasseter. “He was not to blame. It was my fault entirely.”
Halford gave her a measuring stare, his eyes hard and mocking. “I am supposed to believe you orchestrated your own abduction?”
“No, that isn’t what I meant. The abduction was real enough, but…I did nothing to stop it. I did not want to stop it.”
Raven leaned forward, her expression imploring. She didn’t want the duke for an enemy, certainly not Kell’s enemy. But if she hoped to persuade Halford to leniency, she would have to convince him that she truly loved her husband.
“I didn’t intend for it to happen, Charles. I didn’t want to love him. But sometimes…we cannot predict yearnings of the heart.” She took another deep breath and voiced an outright lie. “It seems as if I’ve known Kell forever. But I declined his proposal years ago because my family considered him so unsuitable.”
“I should think so,” Halford said, his voice dripping contempt.
Trying not to react to his interruption, she went on. “As the day of our wedding drew nearer, however, I began to grow cold feet. I thought I was suffering from bridal nerves, but at the final moment…I realized I couldn’t marry you, Charles. Not when I loved another man. It would not have been fair to you.”
His lips twisted scornfully. “Now you claim to be interested in fairness?”
“Yes. Do think about it. I cannot have touched your heart. You never truly loved me. You saw me merely as a prize to be won. You enjoyed the challenge of triumphing over all my other suitors. And I, in turn…I only wished to wed you for your title.”
He winced as if from a blow, and Raven found herself aching for him.
“Charles, surely you can understand. My family had such grand plans for me. My grandfather hoped to see me well established in society, and I wanted to please him. But I found I could no longer deny my own heart. I do love Kell, Charles. I have for a long, long while.”
“Where is he now?” Halford demanded, suddenly glancing around the drawing room.
Raven eyed him warily. “Why do you wish to know?”
“Because I have every intention of calling him out.”
She felt the color drain from her face. “Charles, you cannot!”
“No?” he asked, his tone silken. “Are you afraid I will kill him?”
Given the lethal rumors surrounding Kell, she feared much more for Halford. If the duke issued a challenge, it might cost him his life. But no man of his grace’s consequence would like having his courage or his skill impugned. She swallowed a retort.
“Charles, please…Your quarrel is with me, not Kell. I am the one who deserves your anger.”
“And you have it, madam. It will be a cold day in hell before I can look on this occasion with any measure of equanimity.”
She bit her lip. “You won’t ever be able to find it in your heart to forgive me?”
Halford stood, brushing off an imaginary speck of dust from his impeccably tailored coat. “No, my dear, I don’t believe I could ever be that magnanimous. But for your sake, I won’t endeavor to kill him. I will merely make it my business to ruin him.” His blue eyes glittered like chips of ice. “Your libertine will rue the day he thought to steal my bride from me.”
Raven was still seated in the drawing room, numb with dread, when her dearest friend was announced.
Brynn Tremayne, Countess of Wycliff, was a flame-haired beauty who, last summer, had landed the most eligible lord in England quite against her will. But despite the difficulties between them, their marriage had burgeoned into a deep and abiding love-simmering with a passion that reminded Raven uncomfortably of her mother’s hopeless fervor. She was happy for her friend, of course, but she was not about to risk losing her heart the way Brynn had done.
The countess was dressed in the height of fashion; her tailored green merino walking dress and cream-colored spencer hid the slight roundness of
her belly that was swelling with child, while her vivid red tresses were tamed in a sedate chignon. She said not a word, but her emerald eyes held such grave concern and love that Raven felt an ache catch in her throat.
She rose to her feet involuntarily. She had planned to put on a brave front, but when her friend held out her arms, Raven walked into her embrace and clung. After all the stress and despair of the past two days, she couldn’t hold back her tears.
Brynn simply held her, stroking her hair while murmuring gentle sounds of consolation.