“You’ve a visitor,” Richard said, by way of greeting. He closed Raven’s bedroom door and sauntered over to the side of the bed with his usual languid grace.
Raven frowned, instantly suspicious of his casual tone. “Other than you? If it’s your sister, tell her to go away. I don’t want to see her.”
Richard made himself comfortable on the chair next to the bed and stretched out his long legs. “It’s not my sister, although you really ought to see her. She’s asked after you every day for the past week.”
Raven sat up, managing to hide a wince at the pain that lanced through his thigh. Doctor Gilbert had checked the wound a week ago and declared it fine, but the damn thing was taking a frustratingly long time to heal. He was going out of his mind with boredom.
“Tell her I’m fine. Tell her I’m considering her reputation, even if she’s not. She shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a man’s bedroom, invalid or not.”
Richard shot him an amused glance. “Since when did you care about proprieties? Especially when it comes to inviting women into your boudoir?”
“I’ve always cared about reputation when it comes to your sister, you know that. And besides, she’s not ‘women,’ she’s…” Raven floundered for a suitable adjective and settled for “Something else entirely.”
Richard grinned. “Well, that’s true. I can’t believe you spent so long in her company without strangling her. You have my undying respect.” He leaned over and poured two glasses of brandy from the decanter on the nightstand. “Here you go. Drink up. Doctor’s orders.”
Raven accepted the tumbler and took a grateful sip, then stared moodily at the amber liquid. “How is she, by the way?” He tried to match Richard’s casual tone, but suspected he failed miserably.
“Miserable,” Richard said, echoing his thoughts with uncanny accuracy. Raven schooled his face into a blank mask.
“She talks and laughs, but there’s no spark.”
Raven swirled the liquid in the glass. His gut knotted unpleasantly. He shouldn’t drink brandy on an empty stomach.
“She’s like Mother’s Swiss music box. When you wind it up the top opens and a little bird automaton pops out and sings a tune.” Richard took a slow sip of brandy. “It’s beautiful. But completely unnatural.”
Raven took another drink. His friend was too perceptive for his own good. “I kissed her,” he muttered.
Richard raised his brows.
Raven raised his eyes to heaven. “I did a lot more than bloody kiss her, all right?” God, this was harder than he’d imagined. “I seduced her.” He tensed and waited for the explosion, but it never came. “Go on, hit me. I deserve it.”
Richard put down his glass. “I thought something like that must have happened.”
Raven shot him a wary glance. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m not. This has been on the horizon for years. The only surprise is that you held out for as long as you did. Everyone knows the way you look at each other. The temperature goes up a hundred degrees whenever you’re both in the same room. It was only a matter of time before one of you snapped. And besides, knowing Heloise, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have been entirely one-sided.”
Raven’s heart was racing. “Does your father know?”
“He probably suspects.”
“Will he expect me to offer for her?” He held his breath, like a man hanging from a ledge by his fingertips.
“No.”
Raven exhaled. The sinking feeling in his stomach was not disappointment. Of course it wasn’t. He didn’t want to get married. It was the brandy. Guilty conscience. Relief at being let off the proverbial hook. All of the above. He cleared his throat. “Well, that’s good.”
“He does want her to marry, of course. He’s wanted that for years.”
“Of course.”
“She could still accept Wilton.”
Brandy splashed onto his wrist. He set the tumbler down and wiped his hand on the covers. “Really?”
She couldn’t marry Wilton. Wilton was dull and worthy, comfortable and kind. Everything he was not. Wilton would crush her soul with respectability. Wilton wouldn’t take her adventuring. Wilton wouldn’t help her cross out a single item on her list. He’d frown and disapprove. Except for the one about the stupid feminine skills like knitting and crocheting. That one he’d like, the sanctimonious sod. Raven clamped his lips together. Heloise Hampden was Not. His. Problem.
Wilton wouldn’t cherish her. He’d belittle her achievements.
He’d never make her come.
The idea of another man even touching her was enough to have him take another swig of brandy. He savored the burn in his throat and tamped down the urge to cut off Wilton’s hands.
“Father wouldn’t agree to it, anyway,” Richard said, pouring them both a second drink.
“Why not? He’s been telling her to marry someone exactly like Wilton for years. The boring old fart’s an earl, isn’t he?”
“It’s not about titles or money. Father would let Heloise marry the tinker if she loved him. But only if the tinker loved her back.”
“Ah,” Raven managed.
“She doesn’t want Wilton, and he couldn’t handle her, in any case. She’d walk all over him. God knows, the girl would try the patience of a saint.”
Raven raised his glass in a mocking toast. “Amen to that.”
Richard met his eyes, his gaze direct and shrewd. “You’re no saint. But it’s you she wants.”
For half a heartbeat Raven stilled. And then he forced his glass to his lips and took a deep swallow. “I’m not the man for her.”
Richard shrugged. “I think you’re exactly the man for her. Who else should she have? A drunken wastrel like Collingham? A fortune-hunting fop who cares more about the fit of his coat than about her?”
“I’m not offering for her. I’m doing her a favor. She can do much better than me.”
“That’s true. Besides, if you offered for her, she’d probably just think you were asking out of a misplaced sense of duty.”
“I don’t want to get married. Ever.”
Richard’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “That’s exactly what Heloise said the other day, so you’re undoubtedly safe. As far as I’m aware, no one’s ever persuaded her to do anything she doesn’t want to.”
Raven narrowed his eyes. “Forget it, Richard. Now go away.”
“Don’t you want to know who your visitor is?”
Raven bit back a curse. He’d forgotten all about that. “If it’s not Hellcat, who is it?”
Richard’s smile widened. “Your esteemed grandfather.”
Raven sank back into the pillows with a groan. “Oh bloody hell. What does he want?”
That was just typical of the sneaky old buzzard, taking advantage of the only moment of weakness he’d had in the last few years. Raven was in no physical shape to either physically eject him from the house or to escape himself.
“The same thing he’s wanted for the past six years, I expect,” Richard said. “Your forgiveness. A reconciliation. Although I quite understand why you hate him so much. The bastard does want to give you thousands of pounds and the title of marquis.” His mouth curled at his own sarcasm. “How utterly unreasonable.”
“It’s not as simple as that and you know it.”
“I know he’s a wily old devil, just like you. And I think he’s doing whatever he can to make amends for past mistakes.”
Raven closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. He knew exactly what Heloise would say about the matter. She’d tell him to let go of the past and forgive his grandfather. But then, she was so much more merciful than Raven was.
Richard smiled an evil smile. “I’ll tell him to come up, shall I?”