“You tried your best, Kell,” she said at last. “Sean didn’t want to be saved. He…he wanted an end to his torment.”

Kell made no response, but his silence was rife with anguish.

She moistened her dry lips. “You can’t hold yourself to blame. You couldn’t be expected to sacrifice your life for your brother’s.”

“No?” he asked softly. He bowed his head.

Tears stinging her eyes, Raven looked down at her clasped hands. Her heart was breaking for him. His pain, his absolute aloneness, made her ache inside. His grief was a gaping, bleeding wound, one she couldn’t heal.

Unbidden, she felt a fierce surge of renewed anger at William Lasseter. He had ravaged Kell’s life almost as savagely as he had shattered Sean’s.

Staunchly she swallowed the rawness in her throat and tried again. “Kell, there was nothing more you could have done.”

“I could have done more to help him. I should have done more.”

“He would not allow you to. Sean wanted to die, Kell. He gave you no choice.”

“He did give me a choice.” Kell’s voice was no more than a whisper. “I chose you.”

The edge of bitterness in his tone struck her like a blow. He blamed her for Sean’s death? She couldn’t refute the charge, certainly. Their marriage had indeed led to Sean’s demise, at least indirectly. If she hadn’t come between the two brothers, Sean would still be alive. If Kell had never wed her in the first place…

“Do you hate me?” she asked, the question dredged from her throat.

“No. Not you.” His reply was so quiet, she wondered if she could believe him.

“I hate myself,” he added. “I can’t forgive myself.”

“Kell…”

He held up a hand, as if he couldn’t bear to listen to another word.

Kell was flaying himself with guilt, Raven knew. He wouldn’t accept her comfort. She couldn’t heal his hurt. Nor could she defend herself if he held her to blame for his brother’s tragic end.

At least Kell wouldn’t be charged with murder. There had been witnesses to Sean’s death; a half a dozen servants could attest to the fight between the brothers. There was sure to be an investigation into Michael O’Malley’s murder, though, and in all likelihood, Sean would be exposed as the groom’s killer.

It was even possible the truth about their uncle’s death would eventually come out. She doubted Kell would volunteer the information. He wouldn’t reveal Sean’s crimes to the world. He would continue letting everyone think him a murderer.

But now wasn’t the time to argue with him over such remote possibilities.

His next words, however, filled her with dread. “I want you to go home, Raven. I will have my carriage return you to London.”

Her hand stole to her stomach, pressing there, trying to quell the disquiet roiling inside her. “You won’t come with me?”

“No. I can’t.”

“What will you do, then?”

“I need to find Sean’s body…make arrangements for his burial. I suppose I will take him back to Ireland. Perhaps his soul can find peace there.”

And will you ever find peace? Raven wanted to ask. “And after that…?”

“I don’t know.”

Perhaps her dread was unfounded, she tried to tell herself. Possibly Kell only needed time to grieve for his brother. Time to deal with his own devils, his guilt and regret.

Or perhaps it was more ominous. He might be sending her away because he wanted nothing more to do with her. Despite his often brusque demeanor, Kell was a gallant man. He wouldn’t tell her if he couldn’t bear the sight of her.

Kell turned then and moved toward her. Raven held her breath, but he didn’t pause. Without a word, without even a glance, he brushed past her and left the room.

She bent her head, trying not to cry. Perhaps Sean had won after all, even in death.

Raven shivered violently. She didn’t think she would ever be warm again.

She returned to London alone, as Kell wished. The journey was almost as wretched as her last one, when she’d been at the mercy of a madman, but this time her misery was not physical. The pain and fear she’d experienced during the grueling hours of her abduction couldn’t possibly compare to the torment in her heart now, for Raven couldn’t shake the conviction that she had lost Kell.

When she arrived in London, it was to face a full-blown scandal. The murder of her groom, her own abduction, the death of her brother-in-law, her husband’s apparent abandonment-none of that could be quietly swept under the carpet.

She had few allies to console her, either, for her closest friends were still away. Brynn had retired to the Wycliff family seat with Lucian for the final months of her confinement, although Lucian’s work at the Foreign Office would require his frequent presence in London. Dare reportedly was following his rakish pursuits in the north.

Only Raven’s aunt Catherine remained in town, and that outraged elderly lady washed her hands of her niece entirely in a scene that three months ago would have set Raven trembling with rage herself. Yet now she couldn’t bring herself to care about her aunt’s defection.

Emma called several times to offer sympathy and support, but the hostess had suddenly become remarkably busy due to the gaming hell’s new notoriety. The Golden Fleece was now all the rage among the ton’s fast set; everyone with any pretense to fashion wanted to be seen there.

Raven thought it best to avoid the gaming hell, for her presence would only stir the scandal further. Besides, the club would bring too many painful memories of Kell.

She’d been dismayed to realize that she loved him, that she had been blindly denying her feelings all this time. She had tried to keep him at a distance, to protect herself with indifference so she wouldn’t be vulnerable to the terrible hurt love could offer. But she had failed miserably. And now, when she had finally understood her own heart, it might be too late.

She wanted desperately to believe that Kell had sent her away because he needed to be alone. That once he’d laid his brother’s tormented soul to rest, his own could begin to heal. But when no word came from him, Raven began to realize she was willfully deceiving herself, that perhaps he truly couldn’t forgive her for his brother’s death.

At least she had another concern to distract her two days after her return, for her grandfather arrived in a show of support. The journey proved a severe strain on Lord Luttrell’s health, as did his anxiety over her. Even though Raven baldly lied and assured him that she was perfectly fine, he continued to fret-voicing distress that she moped around the house all day yet understanding why she dared not show her face in public.

She couldn’t bring herself to ride, either. O’Malley had always been her escort and protector on her early morning rides, and her one excursion to the park with a different groom made her grief all the more piercing. She made certain her horses were properly exercised, but other than periodically visiting O’Malley’s grave, where he’d been buried in a quiet funeral service, she remained indoors.

A fortnight later Lord Luttrell was still fretting over her. He tried to persuade Raven to accompany him to East Sussex, but she wanted to remain in London in case Kell should return unexpectedly.

When her grandfather finally left, however, she was alone again. The days continued to crawl by and still she heard nothing from Kell. The house felt so empty without him. She felt so empty.

Her fantasy lover couldn’t even comfort her, for she no longer wanted her pirate; she only wanted Kell.

The city began to thaw from the cruel winter, but the chill in her soul wouldn’t abate. She started a dozen letters to him, only to tear them all up. What could she possibly say?

Kell wouldn’t want to hear of her love. He had wed her in the first place only to assuage his conscience, and to save his brother from her family’s retribution. And now his brother was dead. His grief would undoubtedly overshadow any tender feelings he held for her.

Even if Kell eventually came to terms with his grief, even if he didn’t hate her or blame her for her role in the tragedy, Sean’s death might be too much for him to overcome, for he would forever associate his loss with her. She would always be a reminder of his guilt.

She wished Kell would write to her, wished he would give her some inkling of what he was thinking. She desperately wanted to end the dread and uncertainty gnawing at her. She didn’t even know if he was all right, or if he had gone to Ireland as intended. He had shut her out of his life completely.

Spring had at last showed signs of emerging when Raven found the courage to ask Emma what she knew of Kell’s plans.

Inviting the beautiful hostess to call on her, Raven forced herself to wait until tea had been served before blurting out the question that had been hounding her. “Have you by chance had any word from Kell?”

Emma lowered her gaze, looking almost embarrassed. “To be truthful, I have.”

Raven felt a hollow ache in her chest. “Is he in Ireland?”

For a moment the hostess gave her a surprised look. “Yes, at his horse farm there. I thought you knew.”

“No. He hasn’t contacted me.” She felt herself trembling and averted her gaze. “Do you know when he means to return to London?”

“Raven, I…I am not certain if he ever means to return. Kell has directed his solicitors to sell the club to me…or rather to Halford.”

Raven stared, trying to absorb Emma’s disturbing announcement. Kell didn’t mean to return to London?

“The Duke of Halford?” she said finally.

Emma’s mouth curved in a faint smile. “It does seem farfetched. But Halford is actually a very kind man,” she said, echoing the same words Raven had once used to describe the duke. “He is purchasing the club for me.”