Chastising herself, Raven mentally searched for a subject to distract her thoughts from her husband’s dangerous masculinity.

“I have been wondering, Kell, about the climbing boy I met at your club yesterday. How is Nate doing?”

He didn’t look up from his paper. “Well enough.”

“I’ve been thinking…”

“That strikes me as hazardous,” Kell murmured, his tone dry.

Raven bit back a smile. “It seems to me that a gaming hell is no place for a boy to be raised.”

Kell did lift his gaze at that, regarding her intently over the paper. “You consider yourself an expert on how boys should be raised?”

“No-and I intended no criticism. I just thought that perhaps Nate would be better off living here. In your house, I mean, rather than at your club.”

His eyes held hers in a level stare. “You would actually consider taking in a wretch from the streets? You don’t fear he would purloin the silver or murder you in your bed?”

“Not in the least,” she responded, surprised he would ask such a question.

“Most ladies would.”

“Well, I don’t. And I should like to help.”

When Kell finally answered, his tone had lost its gruff edge. “It is generous of you to offer, but Nate has come to know the staff at the club, and I’m certain he would feel less apprehensive there than he would here. In any case, he will remain at the club only a few more days. I’m taking him to a foundling home once his bruises heal.”

Raven frowned. “I have heard some unpleasant tales about foundling homes. About the cruel lives their inmates lead.”

“Not all such places are cruel. And it will be best for Nate to be around boys his own age and to learn a trade. The lad is sharp-witted for all that he seems so cowed.”

“But it must be frightening for him to go to live in new surroundings.”

“This home is not so frightening,” Kell replied. “The headmistress is a jovial sort and gives out gingerbread to the newcomers to make them feel welcome.”

“I should like to see that,” Raven said thoughtfully. “Would you consider allowing me to accompany you when you deliver Nate there?”

Kell’s eyes narrowed with something like suspicion. “Why would you wish to?”

“Because I have little to occupy my time. And I would like to do something worthwhile, rather than moping around here, feeling lonely and sorry for myself. Please? I promise I won’t make a nuisance of myself or cause you any trouble.”

Reluctant amusement lit his eyes. “Your middle name is trouble, vixen. But if you seriously want to go…”

Raven gave him a brilliant smile. “I do.”

“Very well. Now will you permit me to finish my breakfast in peace?”

“Certainly,” she agreed, “if you will hand me a page or two of the paper. Are you always such a bear in the morning?” she couldn’t resist asking when he had complied.

Kell’s stare turned to one of exasperation. “Might I remind you that you were supposed to be a wife of convenience, not a termagant?”

Forcibly Raven swallowed her amusement and applied herself to the society page, content to retreat after her small victory.

Four days later she found herself accompanying Kell and Nate on the drive from London to Hampstead, where the Charity Home for Indigent Boys was located.

Nate at first seemed overwhelmed by the luxurious interior of the coach and by the unfamiliar sights of the passing countryside. He sat rigidly, not daring to speak as he stared out the window, yet he was obviously listening avidly to every word Kell said.

It amazed Raven to watch Kell reassure the boy.

“If you don’t like the place, you don’t have to stay. But there will be other lads your own age. And you will learn a trade that will allow you to be your own master some day.”

“Not a sweep?” Nate asked in a small voice.

“No, never again. But you will have to learn to read and cipher.”

His nose screwed up in distaste. “Why must oi learn to cipher, sir?”

“Because if you can calculate numbers, you won’t have to toil at physical labor. You could be a tailor’s apprentice or shopkeeper’s assistant or perhaps even a clerk. And you will be less likely to be fleeced by merchants who are eager to cheat you out of your hard-won earnings. Trust me, when you are at the beginning of your career, you can’t afford to forfeit even a penny.”

With a sleight of hand, Kell pulled a penny from behind the boy’s ear and presented it as a gift.

Nate stared wide-eyed in wonder and delight.

“Here, lad,” Kell added, fishing in his pocket for a small purse. “You will need a little spending money to see you through your first weeks.”

The boy was speechless, while Raven felt tears sting her eyes. Doubtless such kindness was rare in Nate’s young life.

When they arrived at the charming village of Hampstead and dismounted from the coach, the boy clung to Kell’s hand. The large, mellow brick manor covered with ivy looked much like a country gentleman’s residence, but behind the house stood outbuildings and fields more appropriate to a farm, with chickens and pigs and grazing livestock in view.

Much to Raven’s relief, the headmaster who greeted them seemed kind and intelligent. And his wife was indeed a jolly soul who won Nate over with gingerbread and soon had him answering gentle questions about his origins.

Nate knew nothing of his father, but apparently his mother had been a Covent Garden doxy who’d sold him into the hellish life of a sweep when he was five. And he was clearly terrified of the man who had been his master.

Mrs. Fenton assured him solemnly that no one here would beat him or force him to climb anything except perhaps a ladder to the haylofts in the barns. Eventually she introduced Nate to a half dozen other boys who took him off to tour the outbuildings, while Mr. Fenton explained the workings of the place to Raven.

The home housed perhaps forty orphans, many of whom were former beggars, cutpurses, or climbing boys. They slept in dormitory rooms according to age and were required to do daily chores around the farm, but they spent several hours each day in the schoolroom and the remainder apprenticing with masters of various trades.

When Mr. Fenton asked what trade Nate might be best fitted for, Kell answered thoughtfully. “He can’t read a word, but he shows an aptitude for mathematics. He can accurately tally the counters at my gaming tables.” Kell gave a wry smile. “He also has a vocabulary that would make a sailor blush. And I should warn you, he isn’t partial to bathing. With some decent food, his scrawny form should fill out in time, but I doubt he will ever be cut out for heavy physical labor.”

“We’ll do our best to make him prosper, sir, God love you,” Mrs. Fenton said.

“I’m certain you will,” Kell replied. “You’ve managed to work miracles with the other poor wretches I’ve brought here.”

The healing miracles had already begun for Nate, Raven realized. When he came running back, his eyes shone with the delights he had seen at this, the first real home he had ever had known. His happiness was so palpable, he might have been in heaven-a happiness that only dimmed a bit when Kell and Raven took their leave.

Kell remained silent until they were seated in the coach on their way back to London. “Well, are you satisfied he isn’t being condemned to a life of cruelty?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I cannot imagine a better place for him.”

It was true, Raven reflected, thinking of the terrible life the boy had led. Recalling that he was a bastard, she felt rather humbled and ashamed of herself for bemoaning her own origins all these years. She had been so much better off than poor Nate. At least she’d had a loving mother, but Nate had had no one until Kell literally hauled him off the streets.

Kell cared a great deal for the boy, that much was obvious. “It was exceedingly good of you to save him,” Raven added.

Kell’s mouth twisted as he shook his head. “I am no saint, if that is what you are thinking.”

“No, I would hardly call you a saint. But certainly a guardian angel. Tell me…” She regarded Kell seriously. “Why would you go to so much effort for a boy you don’t even know?”

He was silent for a long moment. “I suppose because his plight strikes too close to home. I know what it’s like to be helpless. To be on the streets. To be alone and have nothing and no one to turn to.”

She heard the pain in his voice, the loneliness he let her glimpse, the man behind the mask. Regretting having probed such a raw wound, Raven mentally berated herself. “Surely you were never so wretched as Nate.”

“No, but for a time I was just as powerless. I came to despise that feeling. And Nate reminds me of my brother. Sean was his age when we were delivered to the tender mercies of my uncle. I admit it became a compulsion of mine, to rescue any helpless creature that crosses my path.”

“Including me? Is that why you came to my rescue and wed me?”

Kell frowned at her, deliberately trying to discompose her, she suspected. “You are an extremely nosy wife.”

“I suppose I am.”

“I thought you promised not to make a nuisance of yourself.”

“But sometimes I cannot help myself. You may beat me and restrict me to bread and water if that will make you feel better.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned, although his wry smile took the sting out of his words. He leaned back against the leather squabs then, shutting his eyes and effectively dismissing her.

Raven watched him for a moment, marveling at the compassion she’d seen in him. Kell was a hard man, with a brusque temper and unforgiving manner, especially toward her. But she was beginning to suspect that inside, he was closer to melted wax than granite. Clearly he couldn’t bear to see anyone helpless and downtrodden.