Chapter 13

The duke blindfolded me and took me to a surprise location. I couldn't have been more stunned…and anguished. Wallace brought me to the Hellfire Club.

~ The Duchess of A

R aina stared out at the passing Mayfair streets.

The moon's glow combined with the light shining from the lampposts illuminated the busy cobblestoned roads. The route they traveled to Lord and Lady Rutherford's was teeming with carriages as the ton made their way to various events.

It'd been five days.

Five days since she'd fallen in love with Severin Cadogan at Lucifer's Lair .

Five days since she'd had her heart swiftly broken.

And five days since she'd seen him.

Oh, wherever she went, without fail, he was there. He'd just…become the shadow he'd vowed to be.

They'd not exchanged a word.

A glance.

Not even a good morning.

While she'd made a point to avoid him as he'd done Raina, she couldn't keep from remembering, in its entirety, their night together.

When she'd revealed to him the worst secrets about her parents' marriage, he'd been repulsed and horrified the late duke bandied his wife about; and Raina fell more than a little in love with Severin.

Severin lived each part of his life, fiercely and he would love, in that same way. To the woman who one day, bore his name and bore him children, he'd give his undying devotion.

And I despise whoever that woman is out there. Raina fisted the fabric of her vibrant peacock green and blue skirts. She herself yearned for a man who'd pledge himself, body and soul to her.

"Here, my dear sister has spent years dreaming of attending a masquerade, and this is the night, and you couldn't appear more miserable than when I'd pilfer your desserts when you weren't looking."

She finally forced her gaze away from the window and looked to the bench opposite hers.

From over the top of his black domino, Gregory sent a brow shooting up.

Raina gave him the only smile she could manage. "Ah, yes. Those good old days," she said dryly. "When you, a grown man away at university, managed to visit your young sister, only to then steal my treats. How could I ever forget?"

Her brother looped his foot across his opposite knee. " That , dear sister, strikes me as an evasive answer."

Yes, it had been. She didn't want to discuss the reason for her misery, and certainly not with her big brother.

Gregory's expression grew serious. "What is it, Ray?" he asked, in one of his rare moments of gravity.

Her throat grew tight. This was the brother she loved. The one who genuinely cared.

Slowly, he uncrossed his leg. "Has someone hurt you?"

Ice glazed his usually convivial eyes.

"With Mr. Cadogan as my shadow?" she said, not bothering to contain her causticity.

If her brother discovered she'd been intimate with Severin, he'd duel him; one man would survive and that man was definitely not her brother.

He skimmed his gaze over her face. "You are angry with me still for assigning you Mr. Cadogan to your protection?"

Raina shook her head.

I'm upset I've fallen so hard and so fast for a man who brought me to exquisite heights, only to then reveal it'd all been a game, meant to teach a lesson.

"It'll all make sense to you someday, Raina," Gregory said quietly. "Why I hired Cadogan to look after you. It is my hope you'll understand."

Turning her attention back to the window, she absently nodded.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

When the carriage finally reached the front of Lord and Lady Rutherford's drive, a servant knocked.

"A moment," Gregory called.

Raina looked questioningly at him. "Is there a problem?"

"Clearly there is," he said. "But in failing to tell me what said problem, in fact, is , as your devoted brother, I'm obligated to remind you that you've been looking forward to this moment for years, Raina."

The duke dropped his voice. "You have my permission to evade any pesky companion who'd interfere in your enjoyment this night."

Slowly registering those words, that permission to spread her wings some, she looked wide-eyed at her brother. "Are you suggesting—?"

"Eh-eh." Gregory clamped his hands over his ears. "I know nothing."

For the first time since Severin broke her heart, Raina's lips twitched up into a smile. "I love you, Gregory."

Color suffused his cheeks. "Yes, well, well. None of that. Just…be good."

A short while later, after they'd made their way inside, Severin followed close behind them.

He couldn't have been clearer as to how little he desired her. At every turn, he went out of his way to remind Raina she wasn't anything more than a work assignment.

Resolved to enjoy herself, as her brother encouraged, she looked about Lord and Lady Rutherford's dimly lit revelries.

As Gregory pointed out, for years, Raina had been eagerly awaiting this moment.

She'd imagined the costume she'd have designed and all the sets she'd take part in.

She'd dreamed of forbidden exchanges and stolen kisses.

And she'd be damned if she allowed him to prevent her from enjoying the evening's festivities.

Raina looked out over the crowded ballroom.

The dashing lords in their black dominos and highwaymen's guise flirted shamelessly with masked ladies.

Gentlemen with the most built physiques used the evening as an opportunity to don nothing more than Roman or Greek robes, sandals, and olive branches in their hair.

She gave her head a wry shake.

Severin would never be caught dressed so.

No, because Mr. I-do-not-smile-or-laugh would never attend an event like Lady Rutherford's masquerade. Whereas Raina's days and nights revolved around monotonous affairs and left her yearning for some sort of actual revelry.

Now, here she stood all woebegone, letting this fleeting moment pass her by.

A flute of champagne appeared before her, startling Raina from her thoughts.

She glanced over her shoulder to see the one who proffered that glass.

A spritely, dark-haired beauty, cleverly dressed in a fitted, feather gown smiled back.

La Chouette— the owl.

Raina had heard the Marquess of Rutherford refer to his beloved wife to recognize the intimate symbolism of the marchioness's costume.

"Lady Rutherford," Raina greeted the other woman.

"Oh, dear," Lady Faith said as Raina took the glass from her fingers. "I hoped you would have led with ‘ who are you'?"

Despite the misery of these past days, Raina laughed. Lady Faith, married to Gregory's partner, Rex DuMond, who with her effortless smile and kindly eyes couldn't be more different than her always scowling, menacing, husband.

"I fear my costume has not been as effective as I'd hoped," the other woman mused, casting a glance down at her luxuriantly crafted piece.

"My lady, any discovery has less to do with the effectiveness of your disguise and more to do with the formidable gentleman, nearly a foot taller than the rest of the guests, who only just allowed you out of his sights," Raina said, gently.

The marchioness leaned in and whispered. "Were it not for your brother, he still would be."

Together they looked to where Gregory and Lady Faith's husband conversed. Neither the duke nor marquess had built reputations as ruthless gaming hell proprietors, by being blithe fellows.

"Do they not seem more somber than usual?" the marchioness murmured, echoing Raina's thoughts.

"They do," Rains said quietly, continuing to study the lifelong friends.

Gregory and Lord Rutherford's lips barely moved throughout the exchange, but they barely paused talking about whatever it is that commanded all their attention.

With the feud having escalated between the men and their former partner, Gregory and the marquess had intensified the efforts with which they looked after their kin.

"I am not the only one of us being closely guarded, I have heard," Lady Faith murmured in such hushed tones, it was a moment before Raina heard and registered them.

"My lady?" she said hesitantly.

"Is he as horrid as my husband and the duke say?"

Raina frowned. She wouldn't be petty and speak ill of Severin for the simple—but painful—reason he didn't love—let alone—like her.

"He is not horrid," Raina said, unable to keep the defensive edge from creeping in. "He is skilled at what he does, and the fact that he is stoic, and no-nonsense isn't a mark against his character." But rather an indication of the difficult things he'd done and seen. "In fact—"

Raina stopped, suddenly very aware of the very interested look the marchioness directed at her.

Raina instantly went close-lipped. Friendly though the other woman may be, the marchioness's loyalty first and foremost belonged to the Marquess of Rutherford, and the Marquess of Rutherford's loyalty belonged—just like everyone else—not to Raina, but to Gregory, the Duke of Argyll.

"You may rest assured, Raina, if there is ever anything you'd like to speak about," Lady Faith paused and gave her another pointed glance, "or anyone , I would never break your confidence."

"I thank you, but there is nothing to discuss, my lady."

"Or…if there is anyone you'd like to speak about, Mr. Cadogan, perhaps…" the marchioness gently put forward.

Raina stilled. Her heart knocked against her ribcage. Had she been so very transparent? And why was the marchioness so persistent?

"I promise you, my lady, there is nothing between us," she said, making an emphatic slashing movement with her hands. "He is my bodyguard and I'm merely the woman he'd been hired to protect. There are absolutely no feelings between—"

Raina stopped, registering too late, the growing shock in the young woman's eyes.

Raina's stomach fell.

Oh, hell.

Lady Faith hadn't been talking about romantic feelings between Raina and the bodyguard.

Mortified, Raina took a long, slow, swallow of her champagne, nearly draining the glass. As long as she drank, she didn't have to field any—

"You…care for him," the marchioness ventured.

"I most certainly d-do not." Raina finished the remaining contents of her drink and in a bid for nonchalance, she trilled a laugh. "I hardly know him."

The other woman did allow Raina's weak attempt at mirth to put her off.

"I knew Mr. DuMond but one evening when I allowed him liberties that I'd never allowed another man," she said gently. "And Mr. DuMond and I were not living in the same household, Raina."

"Well, I have not," Raina said, her voice coming out sharper than she intended, and certainly sharper than the friendly marchioness deserved.

The other woman inclined her head. "Forgive me," she demurred.

Sighing, Raina glanced out absently at the dancers concluding the latest set. "No, forgive me. I appreciate your willingness to speak with me about…personal matters." Particularly as there wasn't any other female Raina could rely upon. "But…it's just not the same."

Raina wasn't the marchioness. Lady Faith came from a respectable, morally upright, family. Her mother hadn't done the shameful things as Raina's late mother.

The lovely noblewoman looped her arm through Raina's and gave her a gentle side hug. "It often seems that way when we are in the midst of it," she said softly.

"My lady?"

A twinkle lit Lady Faith's pretty brown eyes. "You'll see." The marchioness's gaze caught on someone in the crowd. "It appears business matters have been concluded for the evening."

Raina followed her stare. Gregory and the marquess made their approach.

In all his ducal arrogance and pomposity, Gregory hadn't bothered with a disguise beyond his domino. His presence at her side would steal the anonymity her costume afforded.

"He'll never miss an opportunity to introduce me to potential spouses," Raina muttered. "And his attempts are anything but thinly veiled."

"I trust spending a masquerade with one's brother is not what you had in mind when you set out tonight," Lady Faith whispered, relieving Raina of her empty flute. "Go. I'll distract him long enough for you to lose yourself."

Raina didn't hesitate. She took off in the opposite direction.

Perhaps it was the speed with which she'd consumed the fine French champagne or the thrill of anonymity, but her steps grew increasingly quicker and lighter. With every stride she felt freer and freer.

Here, no one knew who she was. Here, she could be anyone. Here, she wasn't Lady Raina, Daughter of Eve, as her mother had been referred. Here, there was no judgment.

She'd let Severin make her despondent to the point she'd nearly cost herself the joy of this night. Now, she imagined him suffering through the merriment and frivolity of the night and having to keep close eye on her amidst the disguised guests.

An awareness trickled along her nape; delicious little tingles she'd only ever felt when his hands and mouth were on her.

He is near.

Raina briefly stilled and did a sweep of the crowd.

Sure enough, from across the room, and over the tops of the heads of the guests, her gaze locked with Severin's.

He wore his usual somber, dark, expression. His hard mouth sported a scowl.

He didn't like that she'd managed to escape him.

A man of his caliber and ego wouldn't.

Raina lifted her fingers and gave a little waggle.

He narrowed his eyes and even with the length of the ballroom between them, she caught the glint of displeasure.

The idea of giving him, the all-powerful Severin Cadogan, keeper of her life, chase, propelled Raina into flight.

As she wandered through throngs of guests, a laugh spilled from her lips, and that heady lightness melded with the like sounds of revelry around her.

Raina continued running and, crashing past a stag and lamb in the entryway, she stumbled into the hallway.

Breathless from her exertions and the exhilarating enjoyment she found in thwarting her keeper, Raina cast a glance back, more than half-expecting to find Mr. Cadogan, the scepter and ghost he proclaimed himself to be, had discovered her.

She ducked her head around the doorjamb and silently cursed.

Severin, some ten yards away, caught sight of Raina.

Laughing once more, she bolted. She felt like a child again, playing hide and seek. When had she last enjoyed herself so?

Granted, if he finds you— when he finds you—you aren't going to feel so triumphant, the voice of reason needled.

She shivered.

Then, all the better to not let him find her any time soon, and certainly not alone.

Raina ducked into a nearby room and drew the panel shut.

After the din of the ballroom, the silence here rang loudly in Raina's ears.

Heart pounding, she pressed her back against the wall, and gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness.

Lord Rutherford's offices.

She more than half expected Severin to burst into the room, and yell ‘got you', but when that didn't immediately happen, Raina quit her place beside the entryway, and began a slow turn about the room.

Furnished with all the Chippendale mahogany pieces, leather armchairs, leather button sofas, the room may as well have been those belonging to any gentleman.

With the exception of Gregory who'd taken input on the redesign of his office from Raina and Millie.

Raina paused at the sideboard, stocked with decanters and bottles of various spirits.

Along the way, Gregory had become so lost in the empire he'd built that he'd stopped seeing her and Millie or caring about them.

Oh, she didn't doubt he sought to protect them at all costs. She just missed before he'd viewed her as nothing but another responsibility, among a long line of them.

The work he did, the life he lived, one similar to the debauched one their parents once lived, had changed him—and in no ways that were for the better.

As for Raina, she wanted no part of that existence. She'd explored enough these past several days to have all the answers she needed and to know that wickedness, as she'd feared, did live within her, but she'd not allow those worst attributes to define her as it had her parents—and now, her brother.

She just wanted to be loved by a man who desired her and only her. She wanted to be enough for him so that he'd sooner slay a man than allow anyone to touch her. She wanted to matter more than her husband's proclivities or passions or pastimes or work.

And she'd sooner die a spinster than settle for anything less.

There could be no doubting, the man who'd held her spellbound these past days and coaxed her body to exquisite pleasure, could never be that man, which made this unwitting fascination with him so untenable.

Raina stared vacantly across her host's library.

Severin didn't see people, and as he'd reminded her time and time again, he didn't see her. He saw work and only his work and would never put a woman before the career he'd built for himself.

What then accounted for this…untenable fascination with him?

No, she knew. Members of the ton maintained a veneer of politeness, but it was nothing more than a fa?ade. Lords and ladies of the peerage were ultimately vipers who sneered or whispered about Raina—and others—behind their backs.

Severin, on the contrary, was a man who spoke his mind. Oh, she may not like, and even be hurt, by the things he said to her, but he did not dissemble. He didn't pretend to be something he was not.

What was more, in rejecting the title he'd been granted by the King, he carried the same derision Raina did for their ordered and civilized society.

Alas, Severin didn't much seem to recognize or care that they were in some ways, the same.

The men she was destined to have in her life were invariably those whose energies, love, and passion, belonged to their professions.

And she hated that realization should eat her up inside.

He's not really part of your life, though…

The heavy tread of footfalls sounded somewhere in the corridor, interrupting her thoughts.

Unsteady and loud and accompanied by boisterous laughter and discourse, there could be no doubting it wasn't Severin who approached.

Swallowing a curse, Raina did a frantic sweep of the room.

"…finest collection of cognac, our generous host would absolutely wish us to…"

Raina raced behind Lord Rutherford's desk, dropped to all fours. She scurried under the broad piece of furniture when the door opened.

She carefully dragged her skirts close, so they didn't spill out from under the desk, and held her breath that the crunch of organza and gossamer didn't give her away.

Alas, the ebullient revelers wouldn't have heard much over the commotion they made; pouring drinks, talking loudly over one another.

There came the tinkling sound of the corner of a glass being struck, which proved surprisingly effective in silencing the group.

One gentleman—his voice, unfamiliar—spoke up. "If I might suggest we begin with our official business so that we are free to return to this year's festivities."

She puzzled her brow. Official business?

Lord Rutherford's guest continued. "Which of the many ladies in disguise do we think is the delectable, Lady Raina."

She froze.

"The lamb." That suggestion by one fellow was met with a bevy of laughter and ribbing.

They were…discussing her .

"What?" the gentleman protested. "Though she covered up all that gorgeous blonde hair, the trollop's got the same big breasts and large hips."

Her stomach clenched.

"She also has a waist I can span with my hand," the Earl of Sandwich—she recognized his voice—drawled.

When he was met with boos and hisses, the earl laughed. "I'm merely stating a fact, gentleman."

As if, on cue, several men spoke at once: "The peacock."

Then, like they'd solved the world's greatest mystery came the slap of hands hitting backs.

"I'd like to show that delicious peacock a different cock," one man piped in.

"Given the lady's wanton family, she will welcome it, too."

There came the tinkling of more crystal as glasses touched in an obvious toast.

Humiliation turned Raina's entire body hot, and she curled into herself, feeling incredibly small and wanting to make herself even smaller.

She didn't know how long she remained there under her host's desk while they skewered her with their opinions and commentaries about her body and morality and family history—or how long she remained after they'd trailed from the office and closed the door in their wake.

When she finally climbed out from under the furniture, her neck, back, and shoulders ached from the cramped position she'd found herself.

She wanted someone different than her father and brother and the clients at Gregory's clubs, but perhaps in truth, there weren't any really good men. Perhaps, they were all driven by lust and greed and wickedness. Perhaps—

"You, wicked minx, have given me quite the chase."

Raina stiffened.

In her misery, she'd forgotten she was being hunted—that was, hunted by another man, for entirely different reasons than the carnal ones driving those others.

"Do you know how long I've been searching for you?" he purred like the king of the jungle who toyed with his prey.

For someone who professed to not feeling anger or emotion—his smooth, low, baritone contained a wealth of barely suppressed rage.

Severin.