Raven bit her lip to keep it from quivering.

“I am so sorry, Raven. I can only imagine that Kell wants to be rid of the Fleece because of the painful memories it holds for him.”

“No, you shouldn’t be sorry, Emma,” she murmured. “You aren’t to blame in the least if Kell…” She pressed her fingers to her eyes.

“Are you all right?”

Shaking herself, Raven raised her chin. “Yes, I’m splendid. Why don’t you tell me about your plans for the club? You say Halford is funding its purchase? That must mean you and he are getting along famously.”

Emma’s smile was bashful this time, but she was clearly pleased with her relationship to the duke and by her prospects in the gaming world. Raven was happy for her, and yet she could scarcely keep her mind on the conversation, her heart was in such turmoil.

When Emma finally took her leave, Raven sat staring sightlessly at the floor. Kell didn’t intend to return.

Had he even planned to tell her? If he cared for her at all, he would have disclosed something so crucial as his intentions to abandon his London life, not left it for her to discover secondhand. What more proof did she need that he didn’t want her in his future?

She pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back a sob. He did blame her for what had happened to his brother after all. He clearly wanted nothing more to do with her. There was no hope for her.

Moments later, however, her emotions careened from despair to anger at her own stupidity. She’d done exactly what she vowed she would never do: follow in her mother’s footsteps. She’d fallen hopelessly in love with a man whose heart she couldn’t have-and brought herself more pain than she’d even thought possible.

Dashing away the burning tears, Raven leapt to her feet.

She would not be like her mother! She would not! Wasting her life, pining away for a man. She had to elude that terrible fate at all costs. She had to do something, anything to avert that future.

Feeling like a caged animal, she began to pace the room. She had to act. She couldn’t remain here any longer, that much was becoming obvious. Everywhere she went, she was reminded of Kell. If she had any hope of forgetting him, of learning to live without him, she would have to break all ties with him. She would have to leave London.

But where in God’s name could she go? Her grandfather would take her in, of course, but even at his country estate, she wouldn’t be able to escape her memories of Kell-or her pain.

Perhaps she would do better to leave England altogether. Her life here was ruined anyway. She could go somewhere and start over. Somewhere warm, somewhere her heart would not be ravaged every moment of every day.

Somewhere without Kell.

Scalding tears filled her eyes again. Perhaps that would be best for Kell as well. If she left him, she would give him grounds to dissolve the marriage he had never wanted in the first place. He was wealthy enough to initiate the outrageously expensive proceedings for divorce…

Her tears fell harder. She would no longer have claim to his name, then, or his title. And a divorced woman was even more scandalous than a bastard. But what difference did it make what the world thought of her if she couldn’t have Kell?

Raven buried her face in her hands and wept.

Once she had resolved on a plan, Raven was almost desperate to implement it. She saw no reason to postpone her departure. And the sooner she left England, the sooner she could begin to forget Kell and get on with her life.

Her grandfather would not be happy with her decision, Raven knew. Yet she had already failed him by becoming embroiled in yet another scandal. She would simply have to make him understand that she couldn’t bear to remain any longer.

Her destination would be the isle of Montserrat, where she had grown up. She would be most comfortable there, for she still had numerous friends and acquaintances in the British West Indies, and it would be warm there. She could purchase a small house overlooking the ocean and live quietly.

The largest barrier to her plan was that England was still engaged in a fierce conflict with America, which made sailing on the high seas perilous. When she made inquiries of the various commercial shipping companies about travel schedules, she was disheartened to learn there were no passenger ships scheduled to depart for the West Indies for several weeks.

Fortunately, Lucian returned to London just then. The earl owned a substantial merchant fleet, and when he realized she was completely serious about returning to the Caribbean, Lucian insisted on lending one of his armed ships for the journey.

With his guidance, Raven set her departure for the following week and then began putting her affairs in order, beginning with writing good-byes to her friends and relatives.

Her grandfather’s reply came almost at once:

Your decision pains me greatly, my dearest girl, but I won’t attempt to change your mind, for I know the difficulties you would face should you remain here as an outcast.

I shall miss you more than I can say. Thank you for adding joy to my life these past months. For whatever it is worth, you have my blessing.


She sent Dare’s letter to his London home, asking that it be forwarded to him.

Her letter to Brynn was hand-delivered to the country by Lucian, and Brynn responded at once, saying that she would return to London to say farewell in person.

Raven called on her aunt, driven by common courtesy and the vague desire to make peace if she could. She expected to be refused, however, and was surprised when Lady Dalrymple actually received her.

“It is for the best,” the elderly lady said, agreeing with Raven’s decision to leave England. “You can no longer show your face in polite company, and you would only be miserable.”

Raven bit back the retort on her lips-that her misery would have nothing to do with being repudiated by the elite society she’d always aspired to. That she realized how little their acceptance meant to her now. Instead she changed the subject, expressing concern over how her grandfather would deal with her absence.

Halford, much to her surprise, called on Raven when he heard the news. His manner toward her was far more congenial than in past interviews. He still hadn’t completely forgiven her for jilting him, but Emma was providing him consolation.

“I can never wed her, given what I owe to my title, but she is a comfort to me,” Halford said with unexpected cheerfulness. He regarded Raven with a wistful smile. “Strange how events have turned out.”

“Yes, strange indeed,” Raven murmured, preferring not to reflect on regrets or might-have-beens.

Her letter to Kell was the hardest to compose, and she saved it for last. In it, she expressed sorrow for his loss of his brother and regret for ever involving Kell in her life. And she clearly stated her wish for a divorce. She posted the letter two days before she was due to depart. By the time he received it in Ireland, Raven knew, she would have sailed.

Her final two days were spent packing and settling final details. Her maid, Nan, had chosen to accompany her to the Caribbean, so she would have companionship on the long voyage. Her biggest concern was for her horses, but Halford offered to take them into his most excellent stables so Raven could rest easy.

Otherwise she concentrated on keeping herself too busy to feel or dwell on the grief that was throbbing inside her like a wound.

It touched her that the Lasseter servants seemed as if they would genuinely miss her. And surprisingly, quite a number of her friends called on her to say farewell.

On Tuesday evening she dined with Brynn and Lucian at their London residence and returned to a quiet house. There was nothing more for her to do. The Wycliffs planned to see her off on her voyage tomorrow. Her trunks had already been conveyed to the docks, and she would board in the afternoon and sail with the evening tide.

She would have liked to say good-bye to Dare, but he was evidently still away from town, for she’d received no word from him.

She prepared for bed that night with an aching heart. When she lay down to sleep, though, she forced herself to shut her eyes and ignore her tormenting thoughts of Kell.

On the morrow she would turn her back on England, where she had known such happiness and heartbreak. She would put the past behind her and embark on her new life. And she would do her damnedest to forget Kell Lasseter-if she only could.

He came to her that night, her fantasy lover. Naked, he stretched out beside her on the bed, his hand slowly sweeping her body, stroking, cupping her breast.

When she flinched at his touch, though, he rose above her, staring down with hot intensity. Questions filled his dark eyes, then pain as he realized the truth. He wasn’t welcome.

She turned away without speaking.

“So this is good-bye?” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You are sending me away?”

“I’m sorry.”

His hand cradled her cheek, turning her face back to his. His fingertips brushed her lips with heartrending gentleness. “Your sorrow is not for me. You have no need of me any longer. You need him. You love him.”

“Yes, heaven help me. I love him.”

“But you cannot have him. Or his love.”

“No.” She lowered her head, meaning to bury her face against his hard chest, but gave a start as she met only empty air. He had faded away.

She squeezed her eyes shut. The longing inside her was like a knife blade, sharp, searing, unbearable. She could only hope that someday, in time, the pain would fade to a distant memory and become as illusionary as her imaginary lover.