Heloise beamed at him. “Yes! Exactly.”
“That’s what I did,” Raven admitted.
Chapter 23
Heloise stilled at his unexpected admission. “What do you mean?”
“When I was kidnapped. I drew on the walls, too.”
Her face immediately clouded with guilt and compassion. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. Does being in here remind you of being imprisoned? Do you want to leave?”
He shook his head, inwardly amazed that he’d even brought the subject up. “No. It’s all right.”
“Were you kept in darkness like this?”
“For eight weeks.”
He heard her swift intake of breath. “How did you survive?”
“I embraced death,” he said simply. “I remembered something I must have read at school, by a Spartan called Tyrtaeus. He said ‘learn to love death’s ink-black shadow as much as you love the light of dawn.’ ” He tilted his head back and stared out into the darkness. “He meant don’t fear death, embrace it.” His lips curled in self-mockery. “But that’s easier said than done. The will to survive persists, no matter how hopeless the situation.”
Heloise made no sound, so he continued. “Death was always there, a specter looming every second of the day. One day I saw my captors making nooses out of rope. I thought they were going to hang me.”
She gave a choked gasp but he didn’t look at her.
“I was terrified until I realized it was just halters to tie up their horses.” He bent, picked up a stone, and began tossing it from one hand to the other. “They held a mock execution once. No last requests or anything like that. They just said time was up. They tied my hands and blindfolded me and led me outside. They made me kneel. They put a pistol to my head—I heard the click as the hammer was drawn back. I honestly thought I was about to die.”
He glanced over at Heloise. Her eyes were wide, her fingers covering her mouth as if to protect herself from his words.
“I braced myself. Swore that if I died I’d come back and haunt those murderous bastards. But then the hammer was uncocked and they all started to laugh. ‘Later,’ one of them said. And then they left. I just sagged there, on my knees in the dirt, and retched, although there was nothing in my stomach to throw up. After God knows how long, one of them came and pulled me up and returned me to my cell.”
“Oh God,” she whispered.
He kept his voice matter-of-fact, his tone even. “I considered killing myself as a way to escape. But that would have been the coward’s way out.”
He stopped, surprised to hear those words tumbling from his lips. He’d never told anyone that, not even her brothers. He didn’t want her pity, her sympathy. But he owed her something for the way he’d made her face her own demons back at the river. The least he could do was offer his own most shaming experience in exchange.
“I never told you what happened when I was kidnapped.” He leaned one shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms, staying at the very edge of the glow of light, half in shadow. “I was nineteen, just down from University, staying in our London townhouse. One evening I got blind drunk and decided to stagger home.” His voice was rich with cynicism. “Being young and stupid, I was supremely confident that my elevated position in society meant nothing and nobody could harm me. I was an easy mark.”
He gave an empty laugh. “A London underworld kingpin thought the same thing. He figured my doting grandfather would pay handsomely for the return of his sole heir.”
A bitter smile twisted his mouth. “Ah, but there was the irony: He clearly hadn’t done his research on my skinflint grandfather.” He kept his tone dry and amused, as if he were recounting an entertaining anecdote at a card party instead of the story of his youthful suffering and humiliation.
“You see, kidnapping only works if the threatened party actually values the person taken hostage. If not, they sign the prisoner’s death warrant, because their life is literally worthless to the kidnappers. They become an expense they don’t need. It’s a simple monetary transaction.”
His expression darkened. “They miscalculated badly with my grandfather. His pride was offended by their audacity. He flatly refused to be blackmailed. He pretended to negotiate to stall for time while he hired Bow Street Runners and private investigators to find me. But he took too long.
“I should thank him, really. It taught me a valuable life lesson. No one was going to rescue me. If I wanted to get out of there, I had to do it myself.” His eyes bored into hers. “I vowed then that I would never again be at the mercy of another human being. When I got back I confronted my grandfather in his study. We argued. The old bastard collapsed of an apoplexy as a result. He went back to his London townhouse and I’ve barely spoken to him since.”
“I heard he’s dying,” Heloise said quietly.
He curled his lip. “The bastard’s been threatening to die for the past six years. I don’t care. He can keep his money and his poxy titles.” He scowled at her disapproving expression.
“Your father’s titles are yours by right. I don’t understand why you refuse to accept them.”
“I don’t need them, or the money. I’ve made my own fortune, without any help from him.”
“But you could be the duke one day.”