Raven winced at the image. Climbing boys were little more than slaves and so often ill-treated-by being prodded up chimneys with knives and flaming torches-that they sometimes died.
“I know.” Emma agreed with her unspoken thought. “A life of hell. But at least he has a future now. When his wounds heal, he will go to the foundling home that Kell supports.”
“Foundling home?”
“For orphaned boys.” Emma smiled. “Nate makes the thirteenth street urchin that Kell has rescued. A baker’s dozen. Kell feeds and clothes them, provides for their education, and sees they learn an occupation.”
“How admirable,” Raven murmured, thinking how few true good deeds she had rendered in her own life.
“Yes,” Emma replied. “I owe Kell a great deal myself. He saved me from a…a difficult situation with my former protector.”
And me as well, Raven thought. Kell had saved her from a life as an outcast. “He seems to make a habit of rescuing people.”
“Indeed,” Emma said softly. “He claims not to care, but he continues to protect the innocent and the abused.”
Hearing the note of tenderness in Emma’s voice, Raven couldn’t help but wonder if more than admiration was its cause. Not for the first time, it occurred to her that Emma could be Kell’s mistress. It was even possible she might be in love with him.
The thought sent an uncomfortable pang to the depths of Raven’s stomach. This woman knew her husband far more intimately than she herself ever was likely to. And she could well understand if he was attracted to the golden-haired woman in return. The hostess was older than Kell, perhaps nearing forty, but still incredibly beautiful.
Yet in spite of her instinctive jealousy, Raven found herself liking Emma and feeling ashamed of her ungrateful thoughts. Thus far Emma had proven a firm ally. Admittedly her cordiality surprised Raven. She would have thought a mistress wouldn’t relish having an unexpected wife for a rival. But then, perhaps Emma didn’t consider her a rival for Kell’s affections, since he wasn’t sharing her bed.
Raven was glad, however, when the talk turned to less serious matters, namely how a gaming hell was run. She was extremely curious about the notorious male world that had always been denied to her, and asked numerous questions, which Emma patiently answered.
Her fascination was piqued further after tea during her guided tour of the club, when she was shown the large, richly paneled gaming room where the hazard table stood. O’Malley had taught her how to shoot dice, but she knew the game of hazard involved far more than tossing bits of ivory. It was a complex betting game where players wagered on the combinations thrown.
The oval-shaped mahogany table was indented on either side-to provide a place for the croupier to stand, Raven presumed. The surface was covered with a fine green cloth marked with single and double yellow lines. Completing the table were chairs for the gamesters, boxes, bowls, and small hand rakes.
“What are these used for?” Raven asked, indicating the accessories.
“Those are dice boxes,” Emma explained. “The bowls are for holding counters-worth differing amounts of money-and the rakes are for drawing them in.”
“And one player casts the dice?”
“Yes. His initial throws establish what are called the main and the chance. How subsequent throws match those determines who wins and loses. The most successful players are able to calculate the odds of various casts. Shall I show you?”
Raven started to reply that she would enjoy a demonstration, but just then a masculine voice sounded from behind her.
“Would you care to explain what you’re doing in my gaming room?” her husband asked in a disapproving tone.
Her pulse quickening, Raven glanced over her shoulder to find Kell moving toward her. Awareness shivered down her spine as she met his unsettling gaze. The physical effect he had on her never failed to startle her. The mere sound of his voice stirred her senses, while her blood seemed to thicken at his nearness.
Disciplining her thoughts, however, she fished in her reticule and withdrew the dice she had brought with her, but kept them hidden in her closed fingers.
“I was just showing Raven around,” Emma answered for her.
“Thank you, but I will take over from here.”
For a moment Emma looked as if she might argue, but then she offered Raven a smile and took her leave.
“What are you doing here?” Kell repeated when the hostess had gone.
“I was curious,” Raven replied. “I have never seen a game of hazard played.”
“This is no place for a lady.”
Raven arched an eyebrow. “You sound remarkably like my aunt. Do you really mean to suggest my presence here offends your sense of propriety?”
Did it? Kell asked himself. It would be hypocritical to claim he didn’t want his wife at his gaming hell because it was improper. Some men, even rakes and libertines, became excessively conservative about their wives upon marriage, but it was absurd to be entertaining proprietary notions or feelings of possessiveness toward Raven. She wasn’t his wife in the true sense of the word-or even his woman.
Yet he didn’t want her here. His club was his one haven from her. Ever since Raven had begun sharing his house, he’d found it impossible to shed his awareness of her. He didn’t want her invading his sole refuge. Not that he intended to let her know how profoundly she affected him.
“Besides,” she was pointing out, “I understand from Emma that several ladies frequent your club.”
“Perhaps, but they don’t have a scandal hanging over their heads. Or they don’t give a fig about their reputations. And you haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”
“Actually, I wished to speak to you. I wanted to thank you, for one thing. I am profoundly grateful that you sent Sean away.”
Kell nodded. “Very well, I’ll consider myself thanked. Now you can go.”
Raven made a face. “You can’t evict me without undermining our pretense of being happily married.”
Kell’s gaze narrowed. “I believe we had an agreement. If I escorted you to the Wycliffs’ ball, you pledged never to ask me for another favor, remember?”
“This has nothing to do with favors. This concerns the fate of your club.” She hesitated. “Have you heard what Halford has been saying about you?”
His lips thinned in a hard line. “I’ve heard,” he replied grimly.
“Well, we must do something. We have to try to stem those terrible rumors.”
“I doubt anything I could do would have an effect.”
“Lord Wolverton has offered to sponsor you in society. Dare believes that if you would only ingratiate yourself with the ton’s leaders, you might be able to weather Halford’s accusations.”
Kell shook his head. It rubbed painfully against the grain to accept help from anyone; most certainly he didn’t want to be beholden to Raven for her friends’ intervention. “I’m not about to accept charity from the Marquess of Wolverton.”
“It wouldn’t be charity in the least. He would be doing it for my sake. Besides, you are always aiding others. Emma told me about all the street urchins you’ve rescued. It is only fair that you be the recipient for a change.”
Kell grimaced. He didn’t like having his secrets probed any more than he liked having to deal with his beautiful wife’s nearness. “You are much too interested in my affairs,” he observed.
She didn’t respond to that charge but took another tack. “Kell…I can understand why you scorn society, but this is another matter altogether. Your club is in danger.”
“It isn’t your concern.”
“But it is.” Raven gave him an imploring look. “I am the reason your reputation is being maligned. I cannot simply meekly return home and forget the trouble you are in. I won’t stand idly by while you are ruined.”
“I’m not giving you a choice. I don’t need or want your help.”