The Passion (Notorious 2)

Aurora was gratified to see Raven so much sought over. She was fitting in to the British social whirl amazingly well. Indeed, with her vivacity and frank outspokenness, she had earned a reputation as an "original."

To Aurora's delight, Raven had proven a joy to befriend. Despite her unconventional beliefs and hoydenish ways, her manners were extremely agreeable,

and she could be graceful and poised and articulate when she chose to. She primarily needed to polish her social skills and her understanding of the intricacies of etiquette.

It was her attitude, particularly her tendency toward recklessness, that was most likely to land her in trouble. But she was trying very hard to repress her natural high spirits. Except for her early morning gallops in the park with Aurora – gallops that Aurora admittedly was guilty of encouraging – Raven had made a staunch effort to conform to convention, so that none but the highest sticklers could find fault.

She listened carefully to every utterance Aurora made, for she was adamant about fulfilling her mother's lifelong wish – making an excellent match by wedding a title and fortune. Having grown up in the limited society of a small Caribbean island, shunned by her haughty relatives because of her conception, Raven was determined to join the elite realm of the British aristocracy that had repudiated her mother.

She might very well reach her goal of having a half dozen offers of marriage by the end of the season, Aurora suspected. It was a coup that earlier this evening Prinny had pronounced Miss Kendrick "charming."

"A pity you must refrain from dancing," Chine mused aloud. "But I suppose you cannot afford the slightest indiscretion after your disastrous marriage." When Aurora sent him a sharp glance, he smiled lazily. "I say that in jest. Doubtless I'm one of few people who don't consider it shocking that you wed a notorious American. I remember Nicholas Sabine from his visit here a few years ago – quite an impressive man. The first and only Yank to be welcomed as an honorary member of the Hellfire League."

Clune was the nominal leader of the club of wicked rakes called the Hellfire League. He, along with Nicholas's English cousin, the Earl of Wycliff, had been the subject of sensational gossip for years, and deservedly so.

"I remember being green with envy," Clune admitted, "listening to Sabine tell about his adventures – Exploring foreign lands, searching for hidden treasure, battling bandits… He once narrowly escaped being skewered by an angry warlord's scimitar on the Barbary Coast, were you aware?"

"I hardly find that cause for envy," Aurora replied dryly.

"Perhaps not, but his courage was admirable. To hear Wycliff tell it, your Nick was a hero countless times over. In India once, he tracked down a man-eating tiger that had been preying on villagers for months. Took the animal down with one shot. They renamed the village after him."

Wycliff had told her similar tales about her husband's exploits. Nicholas reportedly had once saved the life of a Russian prince while hunting wolves. When the nobleman's troika went through the ice into a lake, Nicholas had pulled him out and carried him more than a mile to shelter. He'd been rewarded with enough priceless jewels to ensure a luxurious life for years – which, added to the fabulous pirate treasure he'd discovered beneath the Caribbean in his youth, had made him a wealthy man long before he assumed control of the Sabine shipping empire.

Aurora felt her gaze blur momentarily at the bittersweet thought of Nicholas. Without question, he had often risked his life simply for the thrill of it, but he had also saved a number of lives in the process. It was one of the reasons she felt such guilt over his death; she'd done nothing to save him until it was too late. If only she had insisted on speaking with the governor sooner… If only… But it did no good to dwell on the past.

And she preferred to remember Nicholas as the tender lover he had been on their wedding night, rather than the reckless, dangerous man she knew he was at heart.

"I understand," Chine observed, "your father was not overjoyed that you wed during your sojourn in the Caribbean."

"No," Aurora murmured. The ton had been scandalized by her marriage, as expected. Even for a duke's daughter, it was anathema to marry a brazen pirate who'd met an ignominious end on the gallows. But her father had been livid at her transgression, lashing out at her in a convulsive fury that had left her shaken – although publicly he'd maintained a chill pretense of indifference, unwilling to add more fuel to the sensational fire her highly improper marriage had caused.

Thankfully his vow to cut her off without a shilling had had no teeth, since her marriage settlement had made her quite wealthy. Nicholas's cousin, Lucian Tremayne, Lord Wycliff, had attended to the complex financial details at once – when he could have made it extremely difficult for her to secure any part of her claim to her late husband's fortune. Then, when she was treated with disdain by certain high-browed members of the ton, Wycliff had entered the fray, proving her strongest defender and providing her the protection of his exalted name and position, warmly welcoming his American cousin's bride into his family.

Her path was far smoother after that, for few people would dare slight a man of Wycliff's consequence.

For the most part, however, her acquaintances had stood by her. She was still received except in the most rigid of circles. Her closest friends called upon her at her new home with regular frequency, allaying her loneliness. And in some respects, ironically, she had become more of a matrimonial prize than before. A wealthy widow who needed consoling was prime game for fortune hunters – or rakes, Aurora thought with a glance at the handsome, licentious, fair-haired lord standing solicitously beside her.

"I imagine," Clune commented obliquely, "there were others besides your father who didn't welcome the news of your marriage." He gestured along the sidelines toward a tall, stately gentleman dressed as Henry VIII. The Duke of Halford stood there stiffly, eyeing the crowd with his quizzing glass in apparent disapproval of the gaiety. "His grace would not have appreciated your jilting him."

"But I did not jilt him," Aurora replied.

"No? Rumor has it that you were to wed Halford."

"My father favored the match, but we were not betrothed."

"Still, a man as proud as Halford would have taken your sudden marriage as an insult."

"Actually, he was rather understanding," Aurora said, greatly shading the truth, "when I confessed that I fell hopelessly in love with my husband."

"Well," Clune remarked with a sardonic smile, "his grace has evidently given up pursuing you if he's here looking over the season's crop of debs. You are fortunate to have escaped, in my not so humble opinion."

Aurora could not agree more, although it would have been impolite to say so. She shuddered to think what her life would have been like as Halford's duchess, being forced to follow his counsel and accept his dictates.

When they met upon occasion now, Halford treated her with frosty politeness. For Raven's sake, though, Aurora swallowed her dislike and tried to remain cordial. There was no point in antagonizing him further or making an outright enemy of a nobleman who was a respected figure in the ton.

"Yes, a fortunate escape," Clune added with uncustomary seriousness, "yet you are not so fortunate in love apparently. It is regretful that two of your betrothals should end so unhappily."

Aurora swallowed the sudden ache in her throat and merely nodded. It hurt to remember losing both Geoffrey and Nicholas.