A Raven Related (The Raven’s Den #6)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Finally.

Trent rested his forehead against the cool wooden door and took a moment to breathe.

After reading her three different stories, Maggie was finally asleep.

He’d been so busy out on the estate lately, she was feeling neglected and had become prone to temper tantrums. But he was only her brother, and hardly capable of raising her. Unfortunately, he was also all she had.

He did love her, though. And she believed in him. Idolized him, even. But sometimes it felt like this was all more than he could handle. Overseeing an estate that wasn’t his. Raising a child that wasn’t his.

He shook his head and chastised himself. This was a good life. One he hadn’t earned. It was more than he deserved, and he should be grateful for it.

He sighed as he trotted down the wide staircase and walked into the blue drawing room.

At least this one actually was blue, both the sofas and curtains.

In the yellow drawing room, there was not a hint of yellow to be found.

But this wasn’t his house, so he didn’t question these things. Not out loud, anyway.

“Good evening, Benson.”

Benson already had their backgammon board set up and poured them each a glass of brandy before joining Trent at the table for their nightly game.

“Thank you.” Trent took a sip and sighed heavily, easing back against the chair. A muscle in his leg twitched as if it didn’t know how to relax.

“I doubt Lord Ashdown would have any objection to you hiring some help.”

Trent sighed again. “Warwick managed the job without extra help. Apparently, he even had enough time to facilitate a fraudulent marriage scheme on the side.”

“He did have extra help. He had you. And I know it isn’t my place to comment, but he quite clearly wasn’t doing a very good job of taking care of the estate. Hence, you have so much extra work right now. Not to mention, he wasn’t also raising a child.”

“Ash has already given me far too much, Benson. Not many earls would even acknowledge their bastard brother, so how can I possibly complain as I sit here in his palatial house, drinking his exquisite brandy, while playing backgammon with someone he’s paying to simply keep me company?

On top of all that, a nanny to take care of my sister while I’m otherwise engaged.

All he asks in return is that I manage his estate. ”

“He is very generous. That is most assuredly true, and it is also why I believe he would not want you to work yourself into an early grave.”

“I appreciate your concern, and I am grateful for your companionship, regardless of the reason you’re here. But enough talk. I believe it’s my turn to go first tonight.” Trent rolled the dice and moved two of his pieces down the board.

When the butler entered the room a half hour later, they were nearing the end of their drinks and their game, Benson in the homestretch.

“A telegram for you, sir.” He approached the table with said telegram resting on a silver salver.

Trent barely managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

He struggled with the deference they all showed him.

But the staff here saw him as Lord Ashdown’s brother and treated him accordingly.

To fault them for it would be disrespectful.

And once again, he should be grateful for it.

“Thank you, Moulton.” He took the folded paper, and the man bowed before leaving the room.

The note was from Ash. He set it aside to read later, and when he looked back at the board, one of his pieces was sitting on the bar.

“Did you cheat while I wasn’t watching?”

Benson shrugged. “I suppose you’ll never know.”

Trent chuckled. What would living in this house have been like without him? Quiet and lonely, no doubt. Ash had probably understood that and therefore provided. Just as he did with everything else.

Trent looked back at the telegram. It wasn’t uncommon to receive messages from Ash, but they usually came in the middle of the day, and something about this one niggled at him.

“Perhaps I should go have a look at this.” He picked up the telegram. “Based on where we’re at, I think we can safely declare you the winner tonight.”

Benson lifted his glass before tipping it back. “Make sure you get some rest tonight. Maggie needs you more than this estate does.”

He patted Benson’s shoulder. “Thank you. I truly appreciate your friendship.”

He gave a subtle nod. “Goodnight, sir.”

Trent groaned. “Not you, too. I just called you a friend.”

Benson smiled. “Apologies. Old habits, I suppose. Goodnight, Trent.”

He settled himself behind his desk and read the missive.

He was being summoned. That was a first. A weight dropped into his stomach, sending ripples through the brandy he'd drunk.

The request sounded innocuous enough, but there were no details.

What if Ash had actually run out of patience with his ineptitude and he was about to lose his position at Woodburn Hall?

* * *

She could do this. She had to do this.

Samantha stood with the other Lady Ravens, waiting for the club to open. Every night, men queued outside the doors of The Raven’s Den anticipating its entertainments, and as of tonight, she was part of those entertainments.

She wore a black feathered gown and mask, like the others. She’d practiced and knew all of the choreography. But tonight was her first time performing in front of men, and fear made her entire body tremble.

As the doors opened, she waved and blew kisses along with the others, even as her heart lodged itself in her throat. She forced her lips up in a smile and followed along as they danced their way to the side of the gaming floor.

She could do this. She was safe here. The men weren’t allowed to touch her. The words played like a mantra in her head.

She just wanted to make Simon proud. Not that this was something a brother should be proud of; his sister dancing in a gaming hell with her wares on display.

But what other choice did she have? And after everything else, he’d likely only ever be ashamed of her, anyway.

She was soiled goods of the highest magnitude.

She looked up at the balcony. It wasn’t visible from the gaming floor, but it was there. And as the head of security, he often observed from it. Was he watching her, even now?

She continued to move with the others, forcing herself to focus on the task. She leaned in tandem with the ladies, their fans sweeping up in an arc. She could do this. She was safe here. The men weren’t allowed to touch her.

But then she noticed a man watching her intently, and everything else ceased to exist. Cool air whispered over her decolletage, reminding her how exposed she was.

His eyes were locked on her and a hunger filled them as his gaze swept over her body.

A hunger she recognized, and it sent a chill up her spine.

No. She shook her head.

She felt the color drain from her face, and her resolve fled. The knowledge of what that man’s thoughts probably were sent panic racing through her as a barrage of images from her past flashed in her mind. Images of men with that same look, forcing her to do unspeakable things.

Overwhelmed by a sudden urge to flee, she scurried along the wall to the back of the club and through the curtain.

Thank God, the security man didn’t stop her.

Dropping her fan, she raced down the hall and surged through the back door of the club.

The man standing guard outside was so startled by her sudden appearance, he didn’t stop her either, so she sprinted into the dark alleyway.

Not surprisingly, someone was soon behind her, calling her name. Mercifully, it was one of the owners and not her brother. She couldn’t face Simon.

Michael came around to stand before her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’re safe, Samantha. No one here will hurt you.”

Something about him made her feel like she really was safe. He had always been so kind to her. Even now. He didn’t shout at her or grab her and haul her back inside. He simply stood with her, promising his protection.

With a sudden need to show her gratitude, she dropped to her knees and reached for the buttons on his trousers.

He stilled her hand and crouched. “We don’t do that here, Samantha. Not only is it not expected, but it’s not allowed.”

Heat rushed up her neck, filling her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t mean to break the rules. Please don’t send me back. I won’t do that again.”

“Send you back to Auburn Ridge, you mean?”

She swallowed, remembering her constant fear of being punished while she was in that place. But even the asylum was easier than what she'd endured before it.

Gently, he took her hands and looked into her eyes. “You’re never going back there, Samantha. I promise you that. Now, let’s get you back inside, so you can change out of that dress and have a nice cup of tea to calm your nerves.”

Did that mean she wasn’t going to be punished? He stood and urged her back to her feet.

“How am I ever going to repay your kindness?” she asked quietly.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her back toward the door. “That’s the thing about kindness. It doesn’t have to be repaid.”

Once inside the hall, he opened the door that led to the stairs, but she stopped. “Is Simon up there?” She didn’t want to face her brother.

“He is, but if you’ll promise to stay right here, I’ll go up and get him out of our way.”

She nodded. “I promise.”

Michael disappeared through the door, but he was only gone for a minute or two before he returned. He escorted her up the stairs and across to Raven House, stopping at the end of the hall that led to her room.

“Go change into something more comfortable. I’ll wait right here, and we’ll have a cup of tea when you’re ready.”

“Don’t you need to go back over to the club?”

“It’s all taken care of. Right now, we just need to make sure you’re taken care of as well.”

Her mind was all awhirl as she walked down the long corridor to her room.

This place still didn’t make any sense to her.

Why was Michael being so kind to her when she’d just abandoned her post, run away, and then proceeded to act inappropriately with him?

Everyone here was always so kind to her, and she did nothing for any of them in return.

All they’d asked of her was to dance and pose at The Raven’s Den, and she couldn’t even manage that. It was pathetic. She’d done things that were so much harder. Things that were painful and humiliating, so why was she suddenly so weak and afraid?

After changing into her much more modest nightclothes, Michael was waiting for her, just as he’d said he would be. He poured them both a cup of tea and sat with her in the front sitting room. She stared down into her cup, unsure of what to say or do.

“I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or—” She sighed and finally looked up at him. “I don’t know any other way to express my gratitude.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for, Samantha.”

“What did my brother say? Is he angry? Or ashamed?”

“His only concern is your welfare. And that’s the case for all of us here.”

Her brother always had been kind to her.

Even when he’d taken her away from her husband, bruised and bleeding.

Even when she’d cried and thrown things and begged him to spare Norman’s life.

Even when she’d eventually tried to take her own.

He’d never criticized her or condemned her.

Only tried to make her happy and keep her safe. Just as they were all doing now.

Why was it so much easier for her to feel deserving of the abuse than it was of the kindness?