She was fortunate to have attracted Halford, considering the disadvantages she faced. Although a British citizen, she’d been born in the West Indies and had only come to England for the first time this past spring, a year after her mother’s death. Forcibly swallowing her reluctance, she’d reconciled with her estranged family-her ailing viscount grandfather and her dragon of a great-aunt, who had sponsored her London season as a debutante.

Since then, Raven had grown to realize how very much acceptance meant to her, how deeply she cherished the feeling of belonging.

To her relief and gratitude, her first Season had been a triumph. She was sought after by countless admirers and received a half dozen estimable proposals of marriage, along with several unsuitable ones. She’d fooled even the highest sticklers with her efforts at demure deportment. But with a hidden scandal in her past, she could give the ton no reason to challenge her entree into its select ranks, no matter how much she might like to thumb her nose in their faces. Not if she wanted to become one of them.

Her unconventionality was a definite drawback, Raven was keenly aware. Her upbringing on the Caribbean isle of Montserrat had afforded her a rare freedom, and she’d spent her hoydenish childhood swimming in secluded coves and playing pirate and riding to the wind. Even her name was unorthodox; she’d been named for the color of her hair, a throwback to one of her real father’s Spanish ancestors.

But once in England, she had striven to restrain her natural high spirits, repressing any sign of passion in favor of conformity, enduring the stifling rules of proper conduct because she was fiercely determined to be accepted.

One of her few concessions to restlessness was her early morning gallops in the park. And when she craved passion, she turned to her fantasies and her imaginary pirate lover. Though he was only an illusion-one that sometimes left her aching with an unfulfilled longing-she was certain her pirate could satisfy her deepest hungers far more profoundly than her real-life duke ever could or would.

Raven shivered, suddenly feeling the chill of the winter morning. Sternly repressing her apprehension, she set aside her tray and rose from the bed. Were this any other day, she would be riding at this very moment, but she had a wedding to prepare for.

She had just drawn on a woolen wrapper when another knock sounded on her door. To her vast surprise, her great-aunt entered.

Catherine, Lady Dalrymple, was an imposing figure-tall and elegant with handsome features and silver hair that lent her a majestic air.

“Is something amiss?” Raven asked with a frown. Never once in all the months of living with her great-aunt had she been visited like this. Nor did her elderly relative normally rise this early.

Aunt Catherine managed a stiff smile. “Nothing is amiss. I merely brought you a wedding gift.” She held out a small satinwood box. “These belonged to your mother. I suspect Elizabeth would wish you to have them.”

Raven felt her heart wrench at the mention of her mother. Opening the box with curiosity, she gasped to find a stunning strand of pearls and a pair of pearl-drop earrings, not large but with a lustrous sheen that suggested great value.

Raven gave her great-aunt a questioning glance, wondering what had caused this show of generosity. Lady Dalrymple usually treated her with a frosty reserve bordering on dislike.

“I harbored grave doubts,” her aunt answered her unspoken query, “that this day would ever come. But now that your nuptials actually are at hand, I think you are entitled to have these.”

“They are beautiful,” Raven murmured.

“Elizabeth refused to take them with her when she left,” Aunt Catherine observed with obvious disapproval. “Her defiance was imprudent, considering that she could have sold these for a pretty price. But I presumed you would wish to wear them at your wedding.”

Surprised but grateful for her aunt’s gift, Raven tempered her response. “Yes, thank you. I would like very much to wear them.”

Without speaking, Aunt Catherine turned to take her leave, but then turned back, arching one elegant eyebrow. “I confess you have pleasantly surprised me, Raven. I never imagined you would make such an advantageous marriage.”

“Why not?” Raven couldn’t help asking. “Because you didn’t believe I should aim so high, given the illegitimacy of my origins?”

“Few people know the secret of your origins, thank heavens. No, frankly, I didn’t believe you would have the good sense to accept Halford for your husband. You had so many suitors… I feared you might choose someone unacceptable just to spite us.”

She had indeed had numerous suitors, Raven reflected. In fact, one suitor in particular had hounded her relentlessly even after her betrothal to Halford was announced, nearly embroiling her in scandal. Thankfully her aunt knew nothing of that near disaster.

“I would never have behaved so rashly, Aunt-despite your estimation of me.”

“Perhaps not,” her aunt replied. “Still, I doubted your betrothal to Halford would last all these months, what with the vast disparity between you.” Catherine’s mouth twisted in the flicker of a smile. “Even I consider his grace a stuffed shirt. In disposition at least, he doesn’t appear at all to be the right match for you.”

“He isn’t all that bad,” Raven said in his defense. “Halford is reserved and very proper, certainly, but beneath the trappings of his rank, he is actually a very kind man.”

“Well, I am glad you don’t harbor foolish notions like marrying for love. Love does not ensure happiness, as your mother discovered to her everlasting grief.”

Raven felt herself stiffen. “Yes, quite the contrary. Love can bring great misery. I learned that lesson quite well, Aunt Catherine.”

“You obviously have more sense than your mother had.”

Raven lowered her gaze to hide her anger, deploring this conversation. She had no wish to discuss her mother or to dredge up painful memories.

The elderly lady pursed her lips together. “At least now you will have the future Elizabeth wished for you. A place in society that her folly denied her.”

Stung beyond bearing, Raven lifted her chin and looked piercingly at her aunt. “A place she was denied when her family cast her out, you mean,” she retorted, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone.

Catherine frowned. “We had no choice but to compel Elizabeth to marry. She was facing total ruin. Her behavior was scandalous in the extreme-becoming obsessed with a married man and letting him get her with child.”

Raven bristled to hear her mother’s sins catalogued so scornfully. “Grandfather did not have to disown her and send her across an ocean!”

“Perhaps not.” Catherine’s expression grew even frostier. “But Jervis made the correct decision. No one could expect him to tolerate the shame of his daughter bearing a child out of wedlock.”

“So he forced her to wed a man she disliked and then banished her from sight?”

“I assure you, Elizabeth understood that marriage was her only salvation. Wedding Kendrick rescued her from disgrace and saved you from being born a bastard!”

Raven winced at the familiar guilt that curled inside her. She well understood the sacrifice her mother had made for her. And that she had caused her mother’s downfall by her very existence. But the necessity of the marriage didn’t excuse her grandfather or her aunt for being so heartless and unforgiving.

“If my mother had not been forced to live among strangers,” Raven said tightly, “if she had been surrounded by family and friends and her familiar life, perhaps she might have been able to overcome her hopeless passion. As it was, she pined her life away, yearning for a love she could never have.”

“She had no one to blame but herself for her weakness. And she swiftly came to regret her grievous error in judgment.”

“Forgive me if I sound disrespectful, Aunt,” Raven replied with sarcasm, “but how could you possibly know?”

“Because she told me so in her letters. Elizabeth wrote to me upon occasion over the years.”

Raven found herself staring. “I never realized Mama wrote to you.”

“She did indeed.” Catherine’s gray eyes remained cold. “Her later letters clearly showed she had come to her senses. She bitterly regretted her fall from grace and losing the rank and privilege to which she was raised. She missed the life she could have had and thought you deserved… Which is why she was so determined you should have a different fate.”

That much was certainly true, Raven reflected somberly. Her mother had been nearly obsessive about rectifying her mistake. Elizabeth had spent countless hours-every afternoon over tea, in fact-trying to instill the graces of a lady in her daughter so that Raven might eventually take her rightful position in English society. On her very deathbed, she had made Raven swear to marry into the nobility…

“Do you still have any of Mama’s letters?” Raven asked, desirous of changing the subject.

“No. I didn’t keep them. But I’m certain she would be relieved to know you had landed a duke for your husband.”

“She would be relieved,” Raven corrected, “to know I needn’t worry about being labeled a bastard. She knew how cruel the ton could be, and she wanted me to be protected by rank and wealth, should my past ever be discovered. A duchess won’t be as vulnerable to such slights as a mere Miss Kendrick.”

“Well, I for one am relieved you have done nothing to shame your family, as she did.”

Raven curled her hands into fists, striving for control. “If you were so concerned that I would shame you, Aunt, I wonder that you gave me a home and sponsored my Season.”