The thought was interrupted by her grandfather’s continued questioning. “What of the marriage contract? I want my granddaughter to be well provided for.”
“Jervis, there is no time to draw up any contracts,” his sister insisted. “That can wait until after they are safely wed.”
Lasseter returned a cool look. “I don’t intend to cheat your granddaughter out of a settlement, if that is what concerns you.”
“Of course it can wait,” Raven said. “I trust Mr. Lasseter to keep his word.”
And strangely enough, she did. She had little doubt he would do as he promised. Her bigger fear in marrying him was that she could completely lose her independence, since a wife had few rights. She wouldn’t be able to manage him the way she could have managed Halford. On the contrary, if any husband could prove to be domineering and difficult to control, it would be Kell Lasseter.
He was watching her with that enigmatic look again, as if trying to determine her motives. Subjected to his dark-eyed scrutiny, Raven suddenly felt her stomach twist in knots.
This man would soon be her husband. She was actually about to marry a notorious stranger, heaven help her.
If her misgivings about marriage were profuse yesterday when she was about to fulfill her long-held dreams with her ideal match, they were utterly rampant now. But she had no choice, she reminded herself, trying to curb her panic. Indeed, she was fortunate that Lasseter had agreed to rescue her.
“Well, then,” her aunt said, returning to practical matters, “we have a great number of preparations to make. Raven, while Mr. Lasseter sees to the special license, you must write Halford and give him to understand the circumstances and beg his forgiveness.”
“Yes,” she agreed, grateful for the distraction. “I owe him an apology of some kind. And I should send a word of explanation to Brynn and Lucian…”
“And I will do the same with my chief acquaintances,” her aunt added, “while Jervis sends a notice to the papers.”
Lasseter interrupted, addressing Raven. “It would be better for you to write from Richmond. The longer you remain here, the harder it will be to support the pretense that we were wed last evening. As it is, we can say that we only stopped here to inform your family of our union.”
“Yes,” Raven agreed, seeing the wisdom of his suggestion. “We should be on our way.”
“Is such unseemly haste really necessary?” Lady Dalrymple protested-simply, her niece suspected, because she disliked someone else being in charge. “Raven should at least be allowed to change her gown for something more suitable.”
“No, Aunt Catherine, Mr. Kendrick is right. My attire isn’t overly important. But I will eventually need access to my belongings. My trunks were packed for my remove to Halford House. Were they delivered there yet?”
“Not yet. With all the chaos yesterday-”
“Her trunks can be retrieved once we decide on living arrangements,” Lasseter said with an edge of impatience.
“But a valise was prepared for her wedding trip,” her ladyship insisted. “She should be permitted to take it with her. She cannot go about town looking like a ragamuffin.” The suggestion was accompanied by a derisive look at Raven’s ill-fitting skirts.
“Perhaps that would be wise,” Raven agreed, remembering that the valise would contain a nightdress among other garments.
“Very well,” he acceded.
Rising, Lady Dalrymple rang for Broady and instructed the grave-faced butler to have Miss Kendrick’s valise loaded at once onto Mr. Lasseter’s carriage.
After that, there seemed to be little more to be said except for farewell. Raven, however, couldn’t help but contrast her leavetaking now with the previous day’s. Yesterday she had been about to marry an illustrious duke; today she would wed a notorious gamester who was suspected of murder…
Her relatives’ qualms were almost as great as her own, it seemed. Her aunt remained icily polite, while her grandfather was actually distraught. Lord Luttrell took her hands in his own trembling ones and squeezed her fingers hard.
“If you ever find yourself in need, my dear…I hope you know you can count on me.”
A sudden ache of emotion tightened her throat: surprise, gratitude, affection. She was amazed and relieved that her grandfather didn’t mean to treat her in the scurrilous way he had her mother. Her voice sounded raspy when she murmured her thanks.
Her grandfather then turned to Lasseter with a fierce stare. “If you harm her in any way, I warn you, sir, you will answer to me.”
“Grandfather-” Raven objected, feeling the injustice of the remark, but Lasseter offered the elderly nobleman a cool smile.
“I intend to save her, Lord Luttrell, not harm her. You will have to be satisfied with that.”
Raven intended to apologize for her grandfather’s animosity once they were out of earshot, but Michael O’Malley was waiting for her directly outside the salon door, pacing the hall.
The groom’s expression held despair and remorse and more than a little concern.
“Oh, Miss Raven, I feared…Sure and I had to see for myself that you were all right,” he said in his Irish lilt.
“I’m fine, O’Malley, truly.”
Beside her, she felt Lasseter stiffen at the name. He eyed the groom sharply but didn’t comment.
“Who was the bastard responsible?” O’Malley demanded. “That scurvy case Lasseter, was it?”
“Yes,” Raven murmured, “but please keep your voice down. I don’t want it advertised. In fact, I intend to try to put it behind me.” She hesitated. “This is his brother, Mr. Kell Lasseter. He has agreed to wed me, O’Malley.”
“Wed?” The elderly groom looked shocked for a moment, before his gaze narrowed in piercing scrutiny. “Saints preserve us.”
The two men regarded each other with almost dislike while Raven quietly explained the need for her unexpected union.
“I ken you’ve no choice, Miss Raven,” O’Malley finally said with reluctance, “but I mean to accompany you. I’ll not let you out of my sight again.”
She looked to Lasseter, whose expression was grim. “Please?” she asked. “May he come with me?”
To her surprise and gratitude, Lasseter nodded. “He can act as a witness for the ceremony. And no doubt you will want someone nearby to protect you in case my abusive tendencies get out of hand.”
It was said with irony, but Raven chose not to press the issue. Instead she had a footman retrieve a cane for Kell to use and then led the way outside, where her valise was being loaded in the boot of the waiting coach. When the task was finished, O’Malley climbed up to join the coachman while Lasseter handed Raven inside and then settled beside her.
Soon they were off, but they had gone barely half a block before Lasseter spoke.
“Your groom is Irish.” It was not a question.
“Yes. He was in service to the Kendrick family when my parents wed, and he decided to accompany them to the Caribbean. Actually O’Malley has been like a father to me. He practically raised me.”
“He’s the one who taught you to shoot.”
“Yes…that among other things.”
Lasseter’s mouth curled at her admission. “I wonder that you allow him to serve you in such an intimate capacity. Your relatives obviously scorn anything Irish.”
“I am not my relatives,” Raven assured him in a stern voice.
She couldn’t tell from Lasseter’s enigmatic expression what he felt about that, but she was inclined to think her groom’s being Irish was the only reason he’d granted her request to have the servant go with her. She’d seen Kell Lasseter’s anger when her grandfather had derided his bloodlines. In fact, she’d caught the slightest glimmer of hurt mixed with the fury in his dark eyes, the slightest vulnerability. His Irish blood was unquestionably a sensitive matter with him.
“Is Kell an Irish name?” she asked curiously.
“It’s Gaelic. Short for Kellach. It means something like ‘strife.’ ”