The heavy snows eventually ceased, allowing their return to London at last. Kell resumed spending his nights in his own bedchamber and his days at his club, yet Raven was less grateful than she might have imagined. Without his company, her loneliness seemed magnified.
Moreover, although the new year had dawned bright with hope that the interminable war with Napoleon might soon be over, the winter was the coldest in local memory. So cold that even the Thames River itself began to freeze.
The absence of her closest friends from town didn’t help, Raven knew. She had too much time on her hands to remember Kell and his lovemaking-the exquisite torment, the paralyzing pleasure-and the dangerous temptation he posed. During their intimate holiday interlude, he had probed her deepest emotions, exposed her greatest pain, and now she was left to deal with the aftermath, where her private yearnings battled her long-held fears.
Kell, too, was fighting his own battle. Business had dwindled significantly at the Golden Fleece, due both to the holidays and to the frigid weather, and he had little occupation to help drive thoughts of Raven from his mind or to make him forget her recent confession about her parentage.
She hadn’t wanted to reveal so much about herself, Kell knew. Raven kept the emotions that hurt the most locked deep inside, as he did. But he’d heard the pain in her voice when she spoke of her illegitimacy, seen the grief in her eyes at breaking her promise to her mother-and he’d felt shaken by a profound tenderness.
He had tried not to let her concerns become important to him, but they had. And now he found himself wanting to make amends.
He could at least undo some of the damage his brother had wrought, Kell decided; he was wealthy enough to purchase a title for Raven. The Prince Regent’s coffers were always in need of replenishing, since Parliament often refused his exorbitant requests for funds. And the Crown had been known to create new titles, regrant extinct ones, and recommend peerages in exchange for services rendered. Kell had little doubt he could be knighted or awarded a barony for the right price.
He asked Dare’s opinion about the matter when the marquess returned to London at the end of January.
“No, it shouldn’t be difficult for you to acquire a title,” Dare responded with only a slight lift of an eyebrow. “Blessingham obtained his earldom by making Prinny a loan that was never expected to be repaid. If you like, I can put a discreet word in the Regent’s ear. But I thought you disdained our snobbish aristocratic set.”
Kell returned a wry smile. “I do. But Raven being able to attach ‘Lady’ before her name would set her mind at ease and let her fulfill the vow she made to her mother to wed a title.”
Dare only nodded in approval, but the amused gleam in his eyes suggested incredulity that Kell would even consider such a step.
It amazed Kell as well. He had never aspired to join the ranks of society’s upper crust, but now he was actually contemplating letting go of his anger for Raven’s sake, relinquishing his self-imposed, admittedly lonely sentence as an outcast.
Indeed, his entire outlook on life had changed since wedding her. Before their marriage two months ago he would never have envisioned the lengths he would go to simply for the hope of seeing her smile.
By the first few days of February, the Thames had frozen to a solid surface, and Kell surprised both himself and Raven by inviting her to the impromptu fair on the ice that the papers were calling a Frost Fair. It was a sign of her restlessness that Raven accepted so readily, Kell suspected.
The scene between the London and Blackfriars Bridges did resemble a huge fair, with immense crowds milling on the frozen river, enjoying the spontaneous festivities. There were countless stalls and booths selling food and liquor and wares. Swings and merry-go-rounds. People dancing reels and playing skittles. And even printing presses turning out handbills and broadsides to commemorate the occasion.
Raven appeared delighted by the novelty, especially the gaming, which included E.O., Rouge-et-Noir, and Wheels of Fortune.
“Are you certain you don’t want to set up your own booth?” Raven laughingly demanded of Kell. “You could bring your hazard table here and make an outrageous profit, as these vendors appear to be doing.”
“I think I will spare myself the trouble. The ice isn’t likely to last, and I’d rather not run the risk of having my expensive hazard table sink to the bottom of the Thames.”
They wandered about, munching on toasted cheese and hot chestnuts and gingerbread. Fascinated by the skaters, Raven made Kell pause to watch. Some of the performers appeared to be quite skilled, gliding gracefully across the ice like dancers, while others frolicked with amateurish glee, displaying clownish antics and clumsy pratfalls.
“I would never see anything like this in the West Indies,” Raven murmured with delight.
In silent admiration Kell surveyed her heart-shaped face framed by glossy black tendrils. With her cheeks flushed rosy from the cold, her eyes bright with wonder, she looked more like an enchanting girl than a dazzling debutante.
“Do you miss your island?” he asked.
“Sometimes,” she replied almost wistfully. “Certainly I miss the warmth. But my mother is gone, and without her there…And I’ve made a new life here.”
“You might like to return there someday.”
“Perhaps. England doesn’t truly feel like home to me.” She glanced up at him. “Do you consider England home?”
Kell reflected on the question thoughtfully. “Not really. I don’t claim any place as home.”
“Not even Ireland?”
“No. My happiest memories are of Ireland during my youth, but after my mother died…” He left the bitter thought unspoken. “When I returned as an adult, the magic was gone. And I found it difficult to earn a reliable livelihood at the hells there. Dublin isn’t London.”
“But now that your club is successful, would you want to go back?”
“I don’t believe so. It took only a few months of living in city stews to realize that I’d developed an idealized view of the country from the stories my mother used to tell. And being half-English was a drawback. The Irish don’t think any better of the English than the reverse.”