The journey back to England was a blur.
Raven and Kit both improved under Elvira’s watchful eye but the closer they got to Santander, the more distant Raven became. It was hard to define exactly, but she could sense him withdrawing into himself. He was his usual teasing, charming self, always glad to see her, but his wall of reserve had returned. He made absolutely no references to their one night of intimacy.
Heloise hid her dismay. In her weakest moments she’d imagined never going home, traveling with Raven in this tiny caravan forever, seeing the world, the two of them having adventures. But that had always been an impossible dream. The adventure was decidedly over.
They parted from Alejandro’s band at Santander. The wound on Raven’s thigh prevented him from stomping around and giving orders, but Kit had improved so much with the gypsies’ good food and attention that he assumed command of the Hope almost as soon as he walked up the gangplank. Raven was installed in his cabin, and Heloise spent most of the crossing staring out at waters that changed from a welcoming turquoise to an angry, choppy gray.
After the excitement and freedom of the past weeks her life in England loomed ahead like a monstrous gilded cage. She didn’t want to reprise the role society had allotted her, that of brilliant-but-wounded-eccentric. Even the attentions of her well-meaning family would feel suffocating.
She had only herself to blame. Raven had never made any secret of the fact that he wouldn’t be tied down with one woman forever. Marriage for him was a prison as sure as the one in which he’d been held, except the bars were invisible, and the wounds to the heart instead of the flesh.
The idea of reverting to their almost-friendship made her feel hollow inside. Raven would throw himself into his next adventure, while she’d be stuck at home, getting older and more bitter, trapped in a society that expected so little of her. To marry and settle down and have babies. To think of nothing more frivolous than the style of her hat or the number of ruffles on her gown. She would go mad.
And she’d live in constant fear that one day he’d never come back at all, and she’d hear that he’d been killed, like Tony, in some faraway field miles from those who loved him.
When it finally got too cold on deck she went below, took a deep breath, and knocked on the cabin door. Raven was sitting up in bed, shirt open at the throat, looking as attractively disreputable as usual. Her heart contracted and she glanced quickly away, certain he’d read the yearning in her eyes. “Kit says we’ll be back home within the hour.”
He nodded. “That’s good.”
“He’s going to stay with you at Ravenwood until you can walk again.”
“Oh. Right. Good.”
Heloise glanced at him. He was looking down, engrossed in pleating the sheet at his waist.
“I’ll go straight home, then, shall I?” she prompted.
“That would probably be best. With Lavalle dead I doubt the French will send another agent after you, but I’m in no state to defend you if they do. Richard will make sure you’re well enough protected.”
A spark of annoyance kindled in her chest. Nothing had changed, had it? She was still just an irksome responsibility to be handed over to the next available protector. But what had she expected him to say? Don’t go, Heloise. You’ve ruined me for any other woman. Come home with me and stay forever. Marry me. She might as well expect the moon to burst into flame. She pinned a bright smile on her face. “I completed another item on my list.”
That got his attention. His head snapped up. “I hope it wasn’t swim naked or take a bath with somebody.”
“Those were your additions, not mine.”
“What was left?”
“Play cards for money. I owe Kit Carlisle seventeen hundred pounds and my first three legitimate children.”
Raven frowned. “You don’t have to pay him. He cheats.”
“So do I. Unfortunately, he’s better than me.”
His eyes caught hers, his expression intent. “I’ll play cards with you.”
She swallowed the sudden tightness in her throat. “I’ve nothing left to play with.”
How true that was. With Raven she’d gambled and lost. It was time to withdraw from the game with what little dignity she had left.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry if this embarrasses you, but there’s something I need to ask. Have you had your monthly courses yet?”
Her cheeks flamed. “Uh, yes…I…they…yesterday, actually.”
He nodded, apparently relieved. “That’s good.”
“Yes.”
The chasm of things unsaid yawned between them, vast and unbridgeable. Heloise groped for the door handle and her throat ached with unshed tears. “Well, goodbye, then.”
He made no move to stop her and her heart shriveled a little more. This was dying by degrees.
“Goodbye, Hellcat,” he said softly.
Raven gazed at Heloise for a long time, trying to impress her image onto his brain, to memorize every subtle nuance of her face and body. This would probably be the last time they’d be alone together. He knew it, and he suspected she did, too. As soon as they got home they’d be surrounded by a tumult of family and servants, thrust back into their appointed roles of sometimes friendly enemies.
He knew what she wanted him to say, what he ought to say. He could see the expectation in her eyes, the hope, still, that he would offer for her because he’d ruined her. Or because it would be expected of him.
He ought to do it, wanted to, but the words stuck in his throat, refused to form on his tongue. He couldn’t be so selfish. He was meant to be alone. And she deserved far better.
His throat ached and his breath caught as he watched defeat and desolation creep into her expression. With a heartbreaking curl of her lips that he supposed was meant to be a smile, she turned and left.
Raven listened to her footfalls fade away and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from calling her back. He was crumbling inside. This was how he’d felt in prison, watching the pale glow of his jailor’s lantern disappear down the corridor: filled with longing, anger, and regret.
She was the one infinitely precious thing in his existence. The rest of his life stretched bleakly ahead of him, no light, no Hellcat, no sunshine. Without her he’d be banished to darkness, the torture a thousand times worse than before because now he knew exactly what he was missing.
But maintaining his distance was vital. Sometimes you needed to amputate a limb, however painful, for the person to survive. True, they’d always be missing a part of themselves, but they’d be alive. Heloise would survive without him. There was no other alternative.
He dropped his head back against the wall and winced as he aggravated his wound. He might never be whole again, but at least he’d set her free.
Richard was waiting on the jetty as they pulled into the cove, the tails of his greatcoat blowing in the wind. Heloise endured his smothering hug as she disembarked, but there was no time for talk. Kit raced down the gangplank and the two men embraced with gleeful exclamations, and then all was bustle as they organized Raven’s transfer from the ship. Two burly footmen formed a chair with their linked arms and carried him, complaining, up the steep path.
Heloise clutched her yellow gypsy shawl around her shoulders to ward off the damp chill and followed the procession up the steps cut in the cliff. Had it really been only three weeks since Raven’s ball? An eternity had passed since then.
A gray drizzle permeated the air as they started down the hill toward Ravenwood and Richard turned to her with a smile. “There’s no need for you to come, Helly. I’ll see Kit and Raven settled. You go on home and see Maman and Father.”
Heloise bit her lip. Of course. She couldn’t go with Raven. She wasn’t one of the boys. She was back in the land of propriety and censure, where an unmarried woman could no more tend to a male friend in his home than she could fly to the moon. She wanted to shout and scream, but lacked even the energy for that. What was the point?
She turned and trudged toward the border of their lands, deliberately averting her gaze from the crumbling seashell folly in the distance. As if she needed more reminders of Raven’s history of rejecting her.
It was strange and jarring, being home. Her parents were overjoyed to have her back and she felt a twinge of guilt that she’d caused them so much worry. She gave them a highly expurgated version of her adventures, ignored their concerned questions, pleaded exhaustion, and fled to her room.
Everything here looked exactly the same, but she experienced an awful sense of disconnection, homesick even though she was home. Her room had always been a sanctuary, but it offered scant comfort now; Raven was everywhere she looked. Heloise screwed her eyes shut tight, but the afterimage of him was burned into her brain. Her chest felt hollow, like she’d left a vital part of herself in Spain, but already the whole adventure wavered in her mind, fading, as if it had happened to someone else.
She curled up in the center of the bed, drew the covers over herself, and prayed she wouldn’t dream.