After a moment, he looked away. “I’ve arranged for Sean to go to a private house just outside London, to be treated by a doctor who specializes in disorders of the mind. If that doesn’t work…” His tone turned bleak. “I will have to commit him to Bedlam.”

The following morning Kell went to fetch his brother and escort him to his new dwelling in the country.

Hearing the plans for his incarceration, Sean grew white about the mouth and clenched his fists in cold fury, his expression clearly seething. But all he said was one word.

“Traitor.”

Two nights later, however, Kell realized he had left the decision too late. He was at his club, playing host to a sizable crowd in the hazard room, when Timmons appeared and murmured in his ear.

“Mr. Lasseter…my lord…there is something you should see.”

“My brother?” Kell asked, his heart giving a ragged skip. His first thought was that Sean had somehow fled the new doctor’s care and come here to create worse trouble than his last drunken episode.

“No, not Mr. Sean.”

The majordomo looked curiously pale, but Kell tamped down his alarm and followed the servant out to the corridor. Timmons held a handkerchief to his mouth and seemed to have trouble speaking.

“Well, what’s amiss?” Kell demanded. “Spit it out, man.”

“There is a man…in the rear alley. I fear…he is…dead.”

“Dead?” Kell’s stomach lurched. “Not my brother?”

“No…It appears to be your lady’s groom, O’Malley.”

Kell stopped breathing. Swiftly he made his way out to the alley behind the club. Several of his servants had gathered around a prone figure, and in the lantern light he could see the dead man was indeed Michael O’Malley. He was coatless, and a dark stain of blood covered his chest.

Kell knelt down. Sweet Christ, had Sean done this? He clenched his jaw in rigid denial, and yet who else would have committed such an atrocity-or even wished the groom ill? Sean had vowed revenge on the Irishman for striking him two nights ago and for being the cause of his impressment last summer.

There was no blood on the ground, Kell saw. The body evidently had been carried here to the alley. He bent forward, probing for wounds. He wouldn’t put it past his brother to have deliberately picked a fight with Raven’s groom-

Kell suddenly froze when his fingers found the tiny hole beneath the dead man’s breast. O’Malley had been stabbed in the ribs with a blade of some kind. Very much like his uncle William’s mortal wound.

Kell suddenly felt sick, dazed, while his throat burned.

“Sir?” Someone coughed deferentially.

He forced himself to look up while he tried to take in the enormity of what had happened.

“What shall we do with the body?”

He found it hard to speak. “Send…for the coffin-maker… And notify the vicar. We will give him a decent burial.” He would have to tell Raven-

Just them Emma Walsh appeared at his shoulder. “Kell,” she began, but her quiet murmur turned to a gasp. “Oh, my God…”

Numbly Kell rose to his feet, pushing Emma back and shielding her shocked gaze from the dead man.

“Is that…?”

“O’Malley,” he returned grimly as he escorted her back inside. “What is it you wanted?”

She visibly shuddered and seemed to recollect what had brought her out to the alley. “Raven…she is here…and she seems distressed. I asked her to wait upstairs in your rooms.”

“I’ll go to her” was all he could manage to say.

Raven was pacing the floor of his study when he entered, her expression one of anxiety as she turned to him. “Kell, I am worried about O’Malley. He hasn’t come home-in fact, I haven’t seen him since our morning ride. This is so unlike him to disappear without a word.”

“Raven…I’m sorry,” he said, taking her by the shoulders.

“Sorry?”

“I have painful news… O’Malley is dead.”

She simply stared. “Not O’Malley. That’s not possible. He cannot be dead.”

“I just returned from examining his body. It was left in the alleyway behind the club.”

She pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes stark with anguish as she seemed to absorb what he’d said.

“Noooo.” Her cry of denial was a keening moan of pain. She took a step backward, her face twisted in torment.

Kell felt the same pain piercing him. Desperately wanting to comfort her, he tried to take her in his arms, but she wrenched herself away, refusing to be consoled. Instead she sank to the floor, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders began to shake as muted sobs welled up in her and she gave vent to her grief.

She cried for a long while, while Kell watched helplessly until she began to quieten. Her body was still racked by convulsive shudders, but at least she didn’t protest when he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. Immediately he picked her up and settled in a chair with Raven on his lap.

Even when he kissed her trembling mouth, though, she wouldn’t look at him. Her cheeks were stained with tears, the dark crescent of her lashes squeezed tight against the horror. “I can’t believe O’Malley is actually dead. He was like a father to me. He set me on my first horse and taught me to swim… Oh, God, I can’t bear it…”

Fresh tears ran hotly down her cheeks as she hid her face in the curve of Kell’s shoulder.

He encircled her with his arms, his voice soft against her hair. “I’m sorry,” he breathed.

“It is my fault. He died protecting me.”

Her grief made his eyes burn and his heart hurt. He held her more tightly, feeling an anguished tenderness for her-and a fierce, despairing anger at his brother.

It was a long moment before she drew a shuddering breath. “How…how was he killed?”

“A stab wound to the chest, I think.”

He felt her stiffen before she drew back. “Emma said that was how your uncle was killed.”

Kell flinched, hearing her put into words the dreaded conclusion he had already made. He’d assumed-prayed-all along that his uncle’s killing was an accident, for Sean had claimed self-defense all those years ago. Now he wasn’t so certain. The similarities between the two deaths were too close to be coincidence.

Raven was staring at him with dawning understanding, her tearstained cheeks pale. “You weren’t the one who killed your uncle, were you? It was Sean.”

Kell squeezed his eyes shut, unable to reply.

“You took the blame for him.”

“I didn’t want Sean to suffer further,” he finally answered. “I was strong enough to withstand the rumors, the accusations, but Sean would have been broken.”

“All this time…you have let people think you a murderer. But Sean is the real murderer.”

“Raven-”

“No!” She pushed against Kell’s chest, struggling to be free. When he released her, she leapt to her feet, looking heartbroken and outraged at the same time. “He will not get away with it! I swear I will hunt him down and see him punished!”

“I will see my brother punished,” Kell said past the raw ache in his throat.

“How, Kell? How can I trust you to deal with him? You mean to protect him, just as you’ve always done.”

Her chin rose as she fiercely dashed tears from her eyes. “Sean is a grown man, Kell! He is responsible for his own actions!”

Kell nodded, torn between love for his volatile younger brother and the necessity of facing the truth. It was hard to believe Sean could be so evil, that he had become a monster. Yet if he was indeed a killer, he was beyond saving.

And Raven was right. Sean couldn’t be allowed to get away with murder.

Without answering, Kell rose to his feet and turned toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Raven demanded.

“To find Sean.”

“I intend to go with you.”

“No, I don’t want you within a mile of him. I want you safe. I’ll have Belker see you home.” Kell’s grim gaze met hers. “I promise you, I will deal with my brother.”

Raven felt ravaged to the heart as she numbly climbed the front steps of Kell’s house. When the butler admitted her with a polite greeting, she merely nodded. She would have to inform him and the other servants about O’Malley’s death, but not now. She couldn’t bring herself to talk about it.

She went up to her bedchamber to grieve alone. A fire burned low in the grate, and she sank into a chair, staring blindly at the flickering flames. She felt bruised, hollow inside.

God, if only this were a terrible nightmare. She would awaken at any moment…

She felt tears slip down her cheeks as memories of O’Malley crowded into her mind. His strength and comfort had sustained her over the years, from the first moment her supposed father had repudiated her as a bastard. O’Malley had taught her about life, how to bear the pain and meet her fate with fortitude…

The ashes of her grief filled her throat and choked her.

Bowing her head, she wept again wordlessly, her sobs muted gasps in the dark.

She had no notion of the passage of time, but it was probably no more than a handful of minutes later when she heard soft laughter behind her.

Raven froze, ice forming in her veins.

“I told you I would make you pay.”

Her tears arrested, her heart pounding in her throat, she glanced over her shoulder. Sean stood at the dressing room door, a pistol trained on her chest.

“I wouldn’t scream if I were you,” he said mildly. “You wouldn’t want to force me to use this on your other servants.”

Her fingers dug into the arms of her chair. “What do you want?”

“Why, I mean to take you hostage, my dear. I have a carriage waiting on the next street.” He gestured with the pistol toward the door. “We will leave by the front entrance, if you please.”