Lara Temple - Lord Ravenscar's Inconvenient Betrothal

Nicky leaned her head momentarily against Lily’s shoulder and Lily blinked against the peculiar burning over the bridge of her nose. Not a sister. A daughter, someone like Nicky who would curl up beside her while she read... And a son leaning against her as well until he was too old for such sentimental nonsense.

She would take them to Isla Padrones and teach them to swim like the gardener Joao had taught her after her father had sent her and her mother to live on the island. Her mother had been frail and despondent after the nervous illnesses that had plagued her in the jungles of Brazil, where her father had been searching for his precious gems, and the Jesuit doctor from the nearby mission had recommended sea air. He had probably meant one of the coastal towns, but her father’s romantic soul had remembered a short visit to the islands of the Amazonian delta and had sent them to one of the smallest. They were supposed to be there only until her mother recovered, but perhaps her mother’s realisation that she was healthiest when she didn’t have to witness her husband’s infidelities had turned a convalescent retreat into a permanent home, regardless of the impact of this isolation on their only child. Ten years after leaving the islands Lily could fully appreciate what was wonderful and horrible about their seclusion there. If... When she had children, she hoped she could show them the pleasures of being alone, but also create a broader world than her parents had provided.

‘Well, so do I,’ she replied lightly, thinking of how often she had prayed for a sibling during those long years. ‘A sister like you, I mean. I always wanted a sister.’

Nicky snuggled closer and closed her eyes with a sigh.

‘I always wanted an older brother, too. Someone like Uncle Alan. You know, dashing and dangerous so all the girls will want to be my friend just so they can flirt with him. Well, they already do even though he’s so old.’

Lily tried not to laugh.

‘Don’t tell him that. The old part, at least. As for the flirting, I am certain he knows that already.’

‘Oh, that’s right, I forgot you have met him. Sue told me he was at Hollywell House when you and Grandmama were there.’

‘Is there nothing the servants don’t know?’

‘Certainly nothing worth knowing. So, what did you think of him? Isn’t he handsome? The girls at school said he was the handsomest man they have ever seen!’

Nicky looked up at her, her face a study of curiosity, defiance and need. Lily tried to tread as carefully as possible over the ground of Nicky’s hero worship and through the unsettling sensations that accompanied the resurgence of the memory of their encounter in the Hollywell House library.

It wasn’t surprising she hadn’t recognised him as Catherine’s brother. She had heard a great deal about the notorious Rakehell Raven since her arrival, but she had still expected him to look more like his sister. Catherine herself was a very handsome woman, but there was a softness to her that had no echo in her brother’s harsh, sculpted face, and though her hair was also near black, it was slightly warmed by mahogany lights rather than the jet sheen of her brother’s that added credence to his Raven epithet.

The biggest difference was in the eyes. Catherine’s were a clear sky blue, slightly chilled around the edges. Her brother’s were a world away, a very dark grey she had at first thought as black as his hair. She had seen such colouring in the Venetian sailors who had manned the ship that brought her to England, but Lord Ravenscar’s face was pure Celtic god—sharp-cut lines of a deity bent on the destruction of lesser mortals. Perhaps his eyes also were merely black and the impression of the complex shades of an evening sky were just an illusion that would dissipate if she had a longer look. Not that she would ever have the chance to examine the man’s eyes, she reminded herself. After his visit to the old nanny, he would probably return to his gambling and womanising and whatever other dubious activities he enjoyed. She smiled at Nicky and told her what she wanted to hear.

‘I think your uncle is very handsome and very aware of his charms.’

‘Oh, it isn’t just that he is so handsome. It is because of the Wild Hunt!’

‘The what?’

‘Haven’t you heard of the Wild Hunt?’ Nicky was practically shimmering with excitement, her ills and aches forgotten. ‘It is said that when the dark huntsmen come riding through the night with their hounds, everyone should hide in their homes or be swept up in the hunt.’

‘Is that what your uncle does? It sounds very tiring.’

‘No, silly, those are just tales. But Uncle Alan and his friends were known as the Wild Hunt Club because they were all very wild and excellent riders and it was said that no woman’s heart was safe around them and no man could win a race or a wager against them because they made a pact with the devil so they would always win. Not that I really believe that silly thing about the pact. That is just what people say when they are envious.’

Lily schooled her smile, a little envious herself—she knew all about the challenges of a girls’ school.

‘I am not the least bit surprised your friends at school are in love with him. I could definitely have used an older brother like him to smooth my path at the Kingston Academy for Young Ladies.’

‘Were the girls horrid to you?’

Oh, God, how did one explain such things to a child? And why was she trying to? It wasn’t like her to share her stories and to do so with a girl half her age...

‘Not horrid, really. My mother had just died, you see, and my father sent me to a school where I knew no one. I was very used to being on my own and I was just a little...well, perhaps more than a little defensive. Like a cornered cat. I even tried to run away several times.’

Perhaps this was a little too much. Nicky’s eyes were wide and compassionate, more like her mother now.

‘That sounds sad.’

‘It was, but it passed. Then I started making friends and it wasn’t so lonely any longer.’

‘I like school. I don’t know any children my age here and at school I have lots of friends who like the same things I do.’

‘Like novels with things that creak and groan and lots of swooning.’

Nicky grinned.

‘Especially novels.’

‘Shall we read some more, then?’

‘Yes, please. And could you do those funny voices? The story is so much better that way. I can almost imagine I am there...’

Chapter Three

‘You’ll come by again tomorrow, Master Alan?’ Nanny Brisbane struggled to keep her eyes open.

‘Tomorrow,’ Alan assented and her eyelids sank on a long childish sigh and her worn hand relaxed in his.

There was nothing for it. He could stay in Keynsham for another night, pay a visit to the Hollywell solicitor and come by in the morning before he continued to Bristol. It was the very least he could do for the woman who had all but raised him and his sister and almost lost her life doing so.

Even in sleep Nanny had the face of a devout elf, caught between mischief and adulation. She should have married and had a dozen children instead of being saddled with two sad specimens of the breed. The love that would have spread easily among her potential brood had been concentrated on them and his parents whenever they chose to come out of their little scholarly world and until their deaths from putrid fever when he and Cat were young.

Cat was waiting for him in the low-ceilinged parlour, tidying up the remains of the tea she had prepared for Nanny. He waited until they left the cottage before speaking.

‘Are you certain she will be all right?’

Cat smiled and tucked her hand in his arm.

‘She is over the worst of it and one of the tenants’ wives, Mrs Mitchum, comes to tend to her every few hours.’