Page 26 of Rules for Heiresses
He shot her a queer look. “You invited me to sit with you, Your Grace.”
“Call me Ravenna, or Lady Ravenna, if you please.” She waved an arm and nearly smacked herself in the eye with the spine of her book. “Her Grace sounds like a terribly stuffy kind of person.” Her mouth formed a wry twist. “And while I’m at sea, I’d rather be me.”
“And who is that, er, Your Grace?” Mr. Bingham regarded her with curiosity before murmuring something to a nearby footman. A glass of something cold was pressed into her hands. “It’s water,” the solicitor said.
She gulped gratefully, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat. When had she become so thirsty? Or when had water ever been so refreshingly delicious? What had Bingham asked her? Oh yes, who she was.
Whowasshe?
“A daughter. A misfit. A sailor. A gambler. A wife.” She peered up at him through a lock of damp, springy hair that had fallen into her eyes. She blew a stream of air upward, but it did little to dislodge the clump. That didn’t stop her from trying again and again—futilely, she might add. Hair was so bloody stubborn! Like men. Likedukes.
“Have you known the duke long?”
“Perhaps only as long as you’ve known him.”
“Oh, I’ve known Cordy all my life. He was my neighbor,” she explained helpfully. “We were engaged once, you know, but he was a dreadful bore. So bossy and such a know-it-all. He was insufferable. Everyone liked him, except me. He was the thorn in my side.” She trailed off with an indelicate hiccup. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, sir.” She sipped her water, noticing that the glass had been refilled. Her voice grew soft, heavy with memory. “But I think I rather loved him. He looked out for me. And then one day…poof!…he was gone.”
“What happened?”
She smiled sadly. “He died. Or at least that’s what Stinson told me.” Ravenna brightened at the thought of one friend she had in England. “Do you know Stinson? He’s lovely.” She lifted a hand and separated one blurry finger to point at nothing in particular. “I think he might have fancied me. But now he’s too late. I married the not-dead, cruel, heartless brother. He’ll be so crushed, my poor friend, because hehasa heart.” She let out a sorry sound. “He said I couldn’t see him.”
“Who said?”
“Ashvale.” She spat out the word as if it burned her mouth. “The portentous Duke of Ashes and Despair.”
“That’s enough.”
The harsh command wasn’t Mr. Bingham’s. No, it came from the entryway to the library. Ravenna’s vision was starting to blur, so all she could see was a menacing,loomingform that looked uncannily like what she imagined Hades, the mythical lord of the underworld, would look like: godlike, grim, and sinfully hot. Her stupid thighs quivered. Gracious, had he come to take his revenge because she’d cursed her petticoats to his realm? Surely he wouldn’t be so petty?
“Petty…petticoats.” She giggled as Hades-in-the-flesh strode toward her. Mr. Bingham rose and she reached out blindly for him. “Don’t leave, dear friend, I haven’t finished telling you about Cordy and our magical woods.”
“Perhaps tomorrow when you’re feeling better, Your Grace.” The solicitor bowed and took a rather hasty leave. No doubt it was because of the fearsome god’s arrival.
“I’m as fit as a fiddle, sir!” she screeched after Mr. Bingham.
“Are you foxed, Ravenna?” the new arrival demanded, dropping to one knee in front of her.
“Quite,” she replied, thinking that Hades was extraordinarily handsome. “Quite, quite,quitefoxed. I stole the liquor, you see.”
“I’m going to sack that lackwit of a maid.”
“Don’t you dare blame my lovely Colleen! She’s the one who kept me from coming out here in my chemise and nothing else!” She poked Hades in his chest and winced. His earthly form had to be made of bloody rock. “I’ll tell you who you should blame…that Ashvale fellow. He’s a scoundrel and a liar and a rotten, abysmal husband.”
She’d had better adjectives in the bath, but she could hardly recall all of them.
His reply was soft. “Oh?”
Ravenna sniffed morosely. “He left me alone for days.” She dragged her legs up, nearly kneeing the stern god in the face—though he would deserve it after chasing poor Mr. Bingham off—and arranged them beneath her. She tucked her head into the crook of her arm and closed her eyes. This would be a lovely place for a nap. “Good night, Hades.”
The laugh was dry and humorless in the extreme. “You think me the lord of the underworld?”
She blinked one eye open. “Aren’t you?”
“I suppose I’ve been called worse.”
Strong arms scooped her up, one bracing beneath her knees and the other cradling her back. Hades was strong. He was also hot under her cheek and he smelled good, like lemon and verbena and something else that made her insides squirm.Toogood. Was that what drew unsuspecting maidens to his underworld lair? Something wasn’t right. Faces blurred together as he moved quickly down several corridors. Inexplicable panic took root.
“Put me down this instant, sir! I insist!”
