Chapter Four #2
“Busy.” Wolf’s laugh held no humor. “My sister has been married three months, Blackstone. Three months in which I’ve seen you at the club more often than not. Gaming, drinking, conducting business. Living your life as if nothing has changed.”
“I have responsibilities—”
“So does every married man,” Rockwell interjected, his tone mild but his eyes sharp. “Yet most of them manage to spend some time with their wives. More than a few scattered dinners and obligatory social appearances, at any rate.”
Raven’s fingers tightened around his glass. How much did they know? How much had Ashley confided to her family? “I assure you, your sister wants for nothing. She has access to my accounts, authority over the household, every comfort—”
“Except your company,” Wolf said bluntly. “Except your attention. Except any indication that you actually want to be married to her. People are talking.”
The accusation stung because it was partially true. Raven had been avoiding Ashley, keeping himself occupied with business and social engagements that didn’t require her presence. All in the name of protecting her, but they couldn’t know that.
“I don’t neglect my wife,” he said stiffly.
“Don’t you?” Wolf’s gaze was penetrating. “When was the last time you took her somewhere just for her enjoyment? When did you last sit with her in the evening and simply talk? When did you last make her smile?”
Last night. The answer came unbidden—last night at dinner, when he’d explained his business ventures and she’d laughed at one of his observations. When her eyes had lit with genuine interest and her hand had lingered on his arm.
But before that? He couldn’t remember.
“We were at home and dined together last evening,” he said. “She seemed quite content.”
“Did she?” Rockwell’s eyebrow rose. “That’s good to hear. But one dinner in how long?”
Raven didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
“Here’s what concerns me,” Wolf said, his voice dropping lower. “I’ve noticed you still maintain that house in Chelsea. The one you purchased before your marriage.”
Raven’s blood ran cold. “How did you—”
“I make it my business to know what affects my family.” Wolf’s expression hardened. “That house hasn’t been sold. The staff are still being paid to maintain it. Empty, as far as I can tell, but available.”
“I haven’t disposed of the property yet,” Raven said carefully. “There are…memories attached to it that make the decision difficult.”
“I understand that Kitty was important to you.” Wolf’s tone made it clear what he thought of that. “But she is gone and you married Ashley.”
Raven’s jaw clenched. “Kitty died. You know this. The house is simply a property I haven’t yet decided what to do with.”
“Then let me help you decide.” Wolf leaned forward, his eyes hard.
“Sell it. Today. Because as long as you keep that house, every gossip in London will assume you’re planning to install another mistress there.
Whether you are or not doesn’t matter—the assumption alone will make Ashley the subject of unkind gossip. ”
“I haven’t—” Raven began.
“I don’t care what you have or haven’t done,” Wolf interrupted. “I care what it looks like. And what it looks like is a man keeping a convenient location for extramarital affairs while his wife sits at home, sad and alone.”
“Ashley isn’t alone—”
“Isn’t she?” Rockwell’s quiet question cut deeper than Wolf’s anger.
“From what Farah described, she seems terribly lonely. Oh, she puts on a brave face, manages your household beautifully, fulfills all her duties as duchess. But there’s something missing.
Some spark that should be there in a new bride. ”
Guilt twisted in Raven’s chest. He’d been so focused on his own struggles—his grief, his fears, his inappropriate desires—that he’d failed to consider how his distance might affect Ashley.
“And then there’s the practical matter,” Wolf continued, his tone turning clinical. “If you do decide to take mistresses, you’ll be putting my sister at risk. Disease doesn’t discriminate, Blackstone. The pox, syphilis—you could bring any number of afflictions home to her.”
The thought made Raven’s stomach turn. “I would never—”
“Never what? Be careless? Visit only ‘clean’ establishments?” Wolf’s laugh was harsh. “There’s no such thing as a safe mistress when you have a wife at home. Every time you’d bed Ashley afterward, you’d be risking her health. Her life, potentially.”
Raven hadn’t thought of it in those terms. The image of Ashley—innocent, trusting Ashley—falling ill because of his selfishness made him feel physically sick.
“I have no intention of taking mistresses,” he said, but even to his own ears, the words sounded weak. Because he’d been considering exactly that, hadn’t he? Reopening the Chelsea house, finding someone to satisfy needs he couldn’t bring to his wife.
“Then why keep the house?” Rockwell asked reasonably. “Why maintain a property you claim to have no use for? Sell it, Blackstone. Eliminate the temptation and the gossip in one stroke.”
“Unless you’re not ready to commit fully to this marriage,” Wolf said, his voice sharp. “Unless you’re still holding onto the possibility of keeping one foot in your old life while Ashley waits patiently for whatever scraps of attention you deign to give her.”
“That’s not fair—”
“Isn’t it?” Wolf’s eyes blazed. “My sister entered this marriage to save both your reputations. She’s upheld her end of the bargain—been the perfect duchess, caused no scandal, managed your household flawlessly.
What have you given her in return? Money?
A title? Those mean nothing if she’s miserable. ”
“She hasn’t complained,” Raven said, but the defense sounded hollow even to him.
“Of course she hasn’t,” Rockwell said gently. “Ashley would never complain. She’s been trained her entire life to accept whatever situation she’s placed in with grace and dignity. But just because she doesn’t complain, that doesn’t mean she’s happy.”
The words hit harder than any of Wolf’s accusations.
Raven thought of Ashley sitting alone in the drawing room day after day, dining by herself most evenings, sleeping in that beautiful bedchamber he’d glimpsed with its cream silk and lavender.
Had she decorated it with hope that he might someday share it?
Had she waited for him to show interest, only to be disappointed night after night?
“I’m trying to do right by her,” he said quietly.
“Are you?” Wolf challenged. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re treating this marriage like a business arrangement. Providing material comforts while denying her any real connection or partnership.”
“You don’t understand the situation—”
“Then explain it to me,” Wolf demanded. “What’s keeping you from actually being married to my sister? Why do you treat her like a stranger you’re obligated to house rather than a woman you chose to wed?”
Raven stared into his brandy, the amber liquid offering no answers. How could he explain that he hadn’t chosen Ashley, not really? That their marriage was born of scandal and necessity, and he was terrified that if he let himself get close to her, she’d discover the darkness in him?
“It’s complicated,” he said finally.
“Marriage is always complicated,” Rockwell said. “But it requires effort from both parties. Ashley is clearly trying. Are you?”
The question hung in the air, accusatory and unanswerable. Was he trying? Or was he simply going through the motions while keeping his true self carefully hidden?
“Sell the house,” Wolf said, his tone brooking no argument. “Commit to this marriage properly. I’ve never been happier with Tiffany by my side. And now I’m to be a father. Get her with child and build a family.
“I do need an heir,” Raven said, the words surprising even himself. “A good idea—”
“Of course you need a son, but children are a blessing too,” Wolf interrupted.
“I want her to be happy.” The admission escaped before Raven could stop it.
Both men stared at him. Wolf’s expression shifted from anger to confusion, while Rockwell’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“Then what’s the problem?” Rockwell asked quietly.
Raven rose from his chair, unable to sit still any longer. “The problem is that wanting someone and being good for them are two different things entirely.”
He left before they could respond, his mind churning. Everything they’d said was true—he needed to either commit fully to this marriage or face the fact that he was being cruel to Ashley in a different way than he’d intended.
The Chelsea house loomed in his thoughts. He could sell it, eliminate any suspicion or temptation. But that felt like closing a door on the only outlet he’d ever had for his darker nature.
Or he could keep it and risk everything Wolf had warned him about—Ashley’s reputation, her health, her happiness.
As he stepped out into the London afternoon, Raven realized the choice before him was starker than he’d wanted to admit. He couldn’t continue this half-life, couldn’t keep Ashley at arm’s length while maintaining the possibility of satisfying his needs elsewhere.
Something had to change. The question was whether he had the courage to fully embrace this marriage, darkness and all. Or if he would merely go through the functions to get her with child. That would at least give him a year or so of being able to leave her alone.