Kell cursed the untimely interruption, a curse that was swiftly followed by a surge of self-censure. He’d been caught embracing Raven when he’d resolved to keep his distance. It irked him to think he was so weak that his powers of resistance would crumble at the first test.
He would have held her away, but she stepped back on her own, into the shelter of the hall, a purely defensive gesture, eyeing Sean with wariness, even alarm.
“How inconsiderate of you, Kell,” Sean sneered as he came to a halt on the upper landing. “You neglected to invite your own brother to your nuptial ball.”
Biting back a retort, Kell regarded his brother over his shoulder. Sean had avoided him this past week, probably because he didn’t want to be pressed into leaving London. He was the worse for drink now, and clearly infuriated.
“The ball,” Kell observed with little patience, “was merely an attempt to curb the scandal you caused. A means to show our unity and support our pretense of a love match.”
“You call the touching scene I just witnessed pretense? Admit it, brother, you’re smitten with her.”
“I was escorting my wife home,” Kell said sharply. “A circumstance that would not have existed if not for you.”
Sean jerked back as if he’d been slapped.
“But in fact,” Kell added grimly, “I was just on my way to the club. Why don’t you accompany me?”
Raven felt a sudden chill as Kell stepped back from her, deliberately distancing himself, a closing out of emotion. His features as hard and remote as ever, he turned to his brother.
“Come.” Without waiting for a protest, he ushered Sean down the steps.
Raven watched them leave, regret coursing through her, along with a fierce surge of relief. She had despised meeting Sean again, and though it was cowardly to admit, she still dreaded dealing with him. She was glad he had gone.
And yet she was profoundly glad he had come as well. Without the interruption, she might have given in to her senses. For a riveting moment as Kell had held her in his arms, she’d almost forgotten that their marriage was a sham. She had wanted him to kiss her, to touch her. To take her, heaven help her.
Fool, she muttered fiercely to herself.
Raven shivered in the freezing night air, realizing how narrowly she had avoided peril. Muttering a curse, she shut the door firmly and turned to go upstairs to seek her bed alone.
Chapter Eleven
As Raven’s friend Brynn had predicted, the ton showed signs of relenting in their harsh judgment of the scandal. The afternoon post brought nearly a dozen invitations for Mrs. Lasseter and her new husband.
Upon seeing the size of the stack, Raven felt her mouth curve in a cynical smile, one admittedly tinged with bitterness. How fickle the ton was, following the whims of their leaders like sheep. And how blind she had been.
She had willfully fooled herself all this time, hungering for acceptance by their imperious confederates, convinced that belonging to their elite ranks meant the world to her. But their specious brand of acceptance was as much a sham as her marriage. A house of cards that had all come tumbling down with one breath.
Her course was set now, though. She was still determined to win herself back into their good graces. And she had no intention of backing down.
Raven was perusing the various invitations in the parlor when Sean Lasseter spoke from the doorway.
“How charming. The perfidious bride playing lady of the manor.”
Alarmed, Raven leapt to her feet, scattering invitations everywhere.
“Beg pardon, madam,” the Lasseter butler exclaimed at Sean’s shoulder, “but Mr. Lasseter insisted upon seeing you.”
“I came to call on my new sister,” Sean drawled, sauntering into the room.
Reflexively Raven’s hand went to her throat, where she could feel her pulse pounding. “What are you doing here?”
“Calling, as I said. I have a key to my brother’s house, of course. And you haven’t the authority to deny me admittance.”
Perhaps she did have no right to order him to leave, but neither did she have any desire to be alone with the man who had used her so harshly.
“Knowles,” Raven managed to say to the butler, “will you please send O’Malley to me?”
“Hiding behind your groom’s skirts again?” Sean said when the servant had gone.