Heloise wholeheartedly approved of the principle. Just not the scheme’s author. There had been a huge influx of ex-soldiers following Waterloo, men like Sergeant Mullaney who’d defended their country, for whom no provision had been made. Theyshouldbe honored, not treated like vermin and left to beg on the streets. At least Raven was using his unwanted inheritance for something worthwhile. Still, one good act was not enough to blot out a lifetime of sin.
“The man’s a paragon of virtue. I don’t want to talk about him. What are you up to? Still trying to track down Phillipe Lacorte?”
Richard clenched his jaw. His inability to locate the brilliant French forger had been bothering him for months.
“The man’s as elusive as smoke. But don’t worry, I’ll get him. Sooner or later.”
His determined look made Heloise smile. Richard was as stubborn as she. She had no doubt he’d get his man eventually.
She turned and for a split second her heart stopped beating. An older version of Raven was crossing the room toward her, leaning slightly on a gold-topped cane.
Richard nodded in welcome. “Raven’s grandfather, the Duke of Avondale.”
Heloise sank into a deep, automatic curtsy as the man stopped in front of her. “Your Grace.”
The duke raised his quizzing glass and studied her as she straightened. His hair was gray beneath his wig, and his clothes, though unadorned, were of the highest quality. Next to Richard’s broad-shouldered frame, he seemed slight, but he studied her with eyes as startlingly green and shrewd as his grandson’s.
“Miss Hampden.” He smiled with a slight bow. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance at last. I have heard a great deal about you from my good friend Castlereagh. He says you are invaluable.”
Heloise flushed. “Thank you.”
He nodded, as if he approved of what he saw. “And you survived three whole weeks in the company of my grandson. You have both my congratulations and my condolences. Knowing his temperament as I do, I can only assume it must have been an extremely trying time for you.” The hint of a smile twitched the corner of his mouth and a wicked twinkle entered his eye. “And yet you appear to have emerged remarkably unscathed.”
Heloise’s mouth curved in an answering smile. “I endured it, my lord,” she said demurely. “It was certainly…an adventure.”
“I am delighted to hear it. My grandson is very fond of adventures. Do enjoy the evening, Miss Hampden.”
He bowed and stalked off just as Raven’s valet, Manvers, appeared at her shoulder with a small silver tray. He offered it forward to her with a slight cough.
“From Lord Ravenwood, ma’am.”
Heloise glanced down. On the tray sat a single, ripe pomegranate.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. What did he mean by this? The swine had ignored her for the past three weeks. Was it a challenge? A summons? Trust Raven to be both provocative and frustratingly enigmatic at the same time.
“Did Lord Ravenwood wish you to convey any message with this?”
“No, ma’am.”
Manvers’s face was as impassive as ever, but Heloise thought she could detect the faintest hint of a mischievous twinkle in his slate gray eyes. “I do believe he expressed an intention to retire to his chamber.”
Her face heated, but she exchanged her empty champagne glass for the fruit and managed to nod, as if she’d been expecting just such a bizarre gift in the middle of a ballroom. “Thank you, Manvers.”
Richard raised his eyebrows and Heloise felt her skin flush even more. She glanced up at the balcony, sure she’d find Raven watching her, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“And I thought ladies likedflowers,” Richard said. “Remind me to stock up on exotic produce the next time I want to get a girl’s attention.” He nudged her shoulder with his own. “Looks like he’s willing to see you now.”
Heloise swallowed a sudden flurry of panic. “I suppose so.”
Richard gave her another nudge and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “So what are you waiting for?”
Heloise pushed through the overcrowded rooms, dodging servants and guests. Her whole body tingled with a sense of urgency, of anticipation. Raven, the beast, knew she could be summoned by such a tantalizing lure. Shehadto know what he meant by it. The possibilities and connotations made her heart pound.
She reached the main staircase, ran lightly up the stairs, and raced down the hallway, toward Raven’s private suite, glad she didn’t encounter anyone else. The noise of the party grew dimmer as she ventured deeper into the house and the thick runner muffled the sounds of her slippers. By the time she skidded to a stop in front of his door she was out of breath. Her hair was coming down from its pins and the hand that clutched the pomegranate was clammy.
She paused, suddenly unsure. No strip of light showed beneath the door. What if Manvers had been wrong? She tried the handle, expecting it to be locked, but it swung open. She stepped inside.
The room was in shadow. No candles had been lit; only the embers of a fire glowed in the grate. Her spirits dipped in anticlimax. He wasn’t here. She turned, suddenly desperate to get away, but a movement in the shadows stopped her dead.