With a serene smile, Brynn pressed her hand over her swelling abdomen. “It is a son; I have no doubt.”
Forcibly swallowing a pang of envy for her friend’s happiness, Raven stepped down from the carriage, where Lucian awaited her.
“Ready?” he asked, offering his arm.
“Yes,” she lied.
He escorted her to the tall, three-masted schooner and assisted her on board. She had already toured the schooner under the captain’s guidance, and Nan was below, unpacking their belongings in the two tiny cabins that would serve as their world for the six or more weeks of the ocean voyage.
Lucian turned her over to the captain, admonishing him to take good care of his precious cargo, then gave Raven a brotherly embrace.
She clung to Lucian a long moment, earning a searching look from his blue eyes when she stepped back. Thankfully he asked none of the probing questions his wife had asked, but merely kissed her cheek.
“Take care of yourself, sweetheart. And give my best regards to Nick. You are likely to see him much sooner than I.”
Raven managed a smile at the thought. Her half brother normally made his home in Virginia, but British troops had come threateningly close to his vicinity, so Nicholas had moved his family to one of the American islands of the Caribbean. She greatly looked forward to seeing him and his wife, Aurora, again. It was one of the few rays of light in her dark world these days.
“I will,” she promised.
Going to the railing, she watched Lucian make his way off the ship and enter his waiting carriage. Her eyes blurred as she returned Brynn’s farewell wave, while a piercing ache of emptiness filled her when her friends drove away. How desperately she would miss them! Yet there was little else about England she would miss, most certainly not the cold.
Shivering in the gusty March wind, Raven drew her cloak more tightly around her and stood overlooking the bustling docks, remembering her arrival last spring. She had come to England determined to fashion her future to her precise qualifications. But nothing had turned out the way she had planned. She had stupidly fallen in love against her will, with a man who couldn’t love her in return.
And yet would she have changed her fate if she could? Would she rather have never met Kell? Never have known his touch? Never known the misery that was love? Despite the pain, she couldn’t bring herself to wish she had never loved him.
“Lady Frayne,” the captain said beside her, interrupting her disconsolate thoughts. “If you would be so kind as to go below now? We will get under way within the half hour.”
Raven nodded and complied, not wanting to be underfoot of the crew, who were busy unfurling sails and untying lines.
She went belowdecks to her small cabin, and was grateful to find it warmed by a brazier. She took off her gloves and cloak and put them away, then had to brace herself against the shift and sway of the ship as it prepared to sail.
Fighting a surge of despair, Raven fetched the jeweled journal that had belonged to her mother and sat down on the bunk to read. Her gaze fell to a page well-worn from her mother’s countless readings.
Love is both ecstasy and torment. Love fills me with a wild joy and an aching dread…
Abruptly Raven shut the journal, unable to bear any more. For her, love was more torment than ecstasy.
She lay down on the bunk, curling her knees into her chest. An ache shuddered deep inside her. She understood love now. She understood so much better what her mother had faced. So much better what she truly wanted.
She had come to England to fulfill her mother’s dream, but she realized now that she couldn’t live someone else’s dream. She couldn’t live her life for anyone but herself. Her mother’s dream wasn’t hers.
Yet achieving her own goal of gaining a title had not provided her any more real fulfillment. She had been a fool to believe a title so important.
She’d thought it would take away the hurt and shame of her being a bastard, that it would make her good enough to join the society that had been denied her mother. In some ways, her whole life had been about proving that she was good enough. But she could no longer be ashamed of what she was: a child of love. Now that she truly knew what love was, she could only think of herself as blessed.
She could no longer deny a stronger yearning, either. She would have wanted Kell’s child. But now there was no possibility of that.
Raven shut her eyes, feeling the tears start to fall. When, a moment later, she broke into sobs, she buried her face in the pillow to muffle the sound. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry in so long. She hated watering pots. Her mother had spent so many nights sobbing into her pillow…
The image of her mother crying over her lost love suddenly came to her, and Raven drew a sharp breath. Oh, God. Had she become exactly like her mother?
Brutally she bit back her tears. She was different from her mother. She wasn’t a helpless victim, letting life act on her rather than meeting its challenges with defiance.
Yet what was she was doing by running away? Wasn’t she acting the coward?
Raven swallowed hard, trying to staunch the flow of tears. O’Malley would have been ashamed of her for surrendering without a fight-and she was suddenly ashamed of herself. She couldn’t deny the savage heartache that came with losing Kell, but she could choose how to deal with it.
Running away was not the answer.