Chapter Twenty-two

 

Phillip watched Raven as she dozed on the seat across from him. Neither of them had slept much the night before and he reveled in how their passions ignited his soul. Instead of exhaustion, he was experiencing a sense of renewal and invincibility as if the world were his for the taking with Raven at his side.

What a force she was!

He liked the man he’d become in her company and entertained himself imagining the life they would share together, the children they would sire and the accomplishments of their years.

Rain began to fall softly and added another layer of sensation to their isolation inside the tiny world of the carriage’s interior. Here was a universe with only Raven that made him happily forfeit the existence of any other.

Phillip carefully stretched out his legs so as not to disturb her or her voluminous skirts and tucked his hands into his pockets for warmth. The folded paper was an unexpected discovery, so he pulled it out with mild curiosity. The black wax seal bore the Earl of Trent’s arms and Phillip turned it over in his hands.

Warrick - To be opened after your marriage.

Phillip smiled. He guessed that the earl had slipped the note into his pocket when they’d been making their farewells and that it was no doubt, some clarification of Raven’s dowry or a formal wish for their marital happiness. After one glance at his lady love, Phillip impulsively decided that since they’d hardly waited to do anything in its proper order he didn’t see that the earl’s directive should be exempt.

He broke the seal and began reading Trent’s familiar handwriting with a comfortable sigh.

And then there was no thought of comfort.

 

Dear Warrick,

By the time you read this, I expect you will have the rise and fall of the ocean beneath you as you and your precious bride sail forth. What a lovely notion!

There are just a few things I neglected to tell you before your departure to rushed nuptials. You have married a creature that can only be described as a piece of penniless garbage without legitimate name, fortune or reputation. Her dowry is a feral love of pleasure and a talent for ruin. Enjoy! I have it on good authority from my male servants and several houseguests that your new wife is sure to provide you a heated bed to rival any whore in London.

What a lucky man you are!

Raven is a brilliant player, don’t you think? Be sure to convey my thanks to her again for assisting me in your downfall. What a dutiful ward she has proven to be!

Best of all: you claimed her out from under my roof with multiple reliable witnesses in attendance, announced your eternal love and then swept her away despite my “protests”. What delicious fodder for the scandal mills! This match will provide entertainment for our peers for years to come. No worries. I’ll dispatch the news to the papers so that not a salacious detail is ever forgotten.

Farewell and Good Luck.

I win.

Trent

 

The world hadn’t come to an end because he could still hear the sounds of the horses, the rattle of the carriage wheels and the soft patter of the rain against the roof and windows. But he couldn’t feel anything. Not the paper in his hands or the fingers that held the vile message. He couldn’t feel his own heartbeat or the breath slipping past his lips.

Phillip had no idea how long he remained in that strange suspended state but when it ended, it ended with a roar of pain and rage that overtook reason. He hammered on the carriage wall to signal the driver and the horses pulled to a stop.

Raven immediately awoke at the commotion, startled by the sudden sound of his distress, her eyes confused as her dreams were wrested from their reach. “Is it…highwaymen? Are we—in danger?”

“Get out!” Phillip kicked the carriage door open. “You vicious little bitch! Get out of this carriage!”

“What?!” Raven sat up, ramrod straight, her face draining of color. “What have I done? Are you mad?”

He thrust the letter at her and began to physically bundle her from her seat. “Here. Take it and have your piece of the triumph, you heartless witch!”

“Phillip!” she screamed as she was propelled onto the road, her skirts instantly spoiled by the mud. “What is this cruelty?!”

“Sir?” the coachman asked in alarm.

“Throw her baggage off! Miss Wells will be leaving us here!”

The man ducked his head and immediately obeyed as the lady began to wail in horror. Her trunks and hatboxes made a pitiful sight as they were ejected without ceremony into a mound alongside the hedges.

“Phillip! Stop this madness, I beg you! What can have happened? You—I love you, Phillip! We—all that has passed between us—to what cause can—“

“Don’t! Don’t you dare speak to me of love! You whose very existence makes a mockery of that sentiment! What do you know of love?” he demanded, his voice shaking with emotion. “How dare you! What a fool I was to hand my heart over to a practiced whore! Though to my credit, you are quite the actress, Raven. I believed in you so completely I never even slowed to ask how such happiness was possible. But I know the answer now, don’t I, my darling!”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying! Please, Phillip. I dare to speak of love because it is the only language I know when I look at you!” Raven reached up to try to catch one of his hands but Phillip pulled away as if she were a leper.

“You think to play me for Trent? To laugh at my ruin? Well, you may get a chuckle or two from our adventures but I’ll be damned if I ever lay eyes on you again! Good bye, Raven. Rot in Hell!” Phillip slammed the carriage door closed, drew the curtains shut and banged on the wall to propel the carriage forward.

He closed his eyes as her screams echoed down the lane until he couldn’t hear her anymore and it was all he could do to keep his own screams of rage and pain from slipping past his lips.

Damn you, Raven Wells.

 

She cried out for the carriage to stop, for the world to right itself, for her beloved Phillip to come back to his senses and to her arms. She screamed until her voice deserted her and raw braying sobs gave way to silent tears. The rain began to fall in earnest and Raven stumbled back to the strange remnants of her life. Leather trunks and pretty hatboxes were so out of place in the grass, perhaps as out of place as she imagined she appeared. The dark green silk of her dress was a streaked muddy disaster and she could do nothing but wait.

She’d been dreaming about a grand ball. It was a waltz and Phillip was there in a vaguely erotic embrace. The room was gold and Raven was laughing as her slippers barely touched the floor.

And then Phillip was shouting and—

Not wearing a bonnet.

A practical voice inside her head interrupted the plummet of her thoughts. Raven hiccupped in agony and blindly put the unread letter that Phillip had given her into her skirt pocket. God, yes. Let’s not think of him. Let’s not… It’s raining and I have a bare head. Bonnet. I have half a dozen.

She knelt next to a hatbox and pulled out an impractical thing with peacock feathers and a wild flourish of organza on its crest, only to drop it onto the ground. Useless thing that. She tried another and another, only to add their exotic colors to the ruin of the scene around her. One of the bonnets was made from a fabric so fine it nearly melted at the touch of rain and she laughed mirthlessly. What a useless thing! Like me, yes? Silk and feathers and…I’m crumbling at the first touch of cold and rain.

The last box finally yielded a smart little straw bonnet with a frivolous lavender velvet bow that had once made her smile. She removed the bow to let it fall at her feet before putting on the bonnet that offered some slight protection from the elements.

The search for a coat or wrap came next and the casualties of that search were even more voluminous. By the time she’d located a reasonable cloak lined with fur, the ditch was strewn in a rainbow of gowns that fluttered pitifully in the wind as they fought against the rain that was driving them into the earth.

A small handled leather case for her jewels and any small item of immediate worldly value was the only thing she collected until she finally stepped back onto the road. Raven looked for a long time in the direction that Phillip’s carriage had gone as if staring might yet summon him back.

Practiced whore.

Heartless bitch.

Rot in Hell.

It had been easy in the orphanage to dismiss insults because one heard them so often that they were expected. But from the startling source of a man who had sworn his eternal love, decried her every part as priceless, from the person that only hours ago had made her cry out his name in pleasure…

There’s a cut that may never stop bleeding.

“Phillip.” Her voice was rough and she winced at the croaking sound of it. Then nodded for it seemed only right that the last time she would speak his name would have no beauty in it. Here was a loss she wasn’t ready to measure but Raven Wells was not a piece of delicate silk to lie down in the mud and gulp down shame.

She turned her back against the direction that Phillip had taken and pivoted to face the other way.

It was human nature to want to look back, to take one last view of the life she had had, the love she had lost and the dream that had died in the violence of minutes. Raven nodded in acceptance of the longing to linger and then lifted her chin one firm inch in defiance.

Raven Wells tightened her grip on her bag and began the long walk through the storm.

And vowed to never look back.

 

Finis