The Tigresse and the Raven (The Friendship Series Book 1)

by Julia Donner

  Damp air immediately saturated Lady Augusta’s black habit and sank through the rich material to her skin. She gathered up the heavy skirt and train, draped the velvet over her arm and raced down the steps. She slowed when she entered the inner court garden, checking for early rising servants, then moved swiftly across the stone-paved walkway to the stables.

  She peered through the stable doors before entering and wasn’t surprised when a man’s murky outline stepped out of the shadows. With a quick bow and a wave of his hand, he gestured for her to follow him out of the stable.

  They carefully hurried down the dew-slick hillside, crossed the meadow and entered the copse. Andronicus, Rave’s wily black hunter, waited there, hidden under the trees and tied to a stout beech.

  “Your mount, if you please,” said the man. His correct manner and speech labeled him a gentleman’s gentleman. “My master bade me to hide his lordship’s horse here so as not to have you noticed when you left. Lord Ravenswold’s rooms have an excellent view of the stable block. Do be careful. I have no idea if this horse has ever been ridden with a lady’s saddle.”

  “No need to worry about that and thank you,” she whispered and placed her booted foot in the hands he held cupped and ready.

  “Do hurry, miss. Dawn is near, and Farnsby will be at his post shortly. A handkerchief with your initials has been allowed to fall outside the hunter’s stall to explain the absence of the horse.”

  She nodded and hesitated no longer. Wheeling the horse in the direction of the pond, she stayed under the trees and out of range of vision of the stable and main house. She felt the valet watching until she and the horse disappeared in the swirling fog.

  Moisture dripped from the tree leaves overhead and slid off drooping bracken, soaking the hunter’s black belly and the trailing hem of her habit as they rode through the dense foliage. She directed her mount through the trees and tried to establish a bearing in fog so dense she feared losing her way. When she encountered the stream she rode the horse into the water and followed its flow, which she knew led to the pond. The splashing noises sounded muted in the murky air and clinging fog.

  A light mist began to fall, striking the leaves and making splatting noises in the forest quiet. So thick was the weather that she almost rode past the aged oak on her left. Immense and majestic, the tree rested on a slight mound. She rode up onto solid, leaf-carpeted ground.

  No rider waited under the oak, so she positioned the horse under the densest umbrage and away from the weeping outer edge. As she settled in to wait, she listened, and from all around came the muted patter of falling rain. The musky scent of decomposing wood and foliage thickened the air.

  Not more than a few minutes had passed when she heard a distant rustle. The rain stopped and Mutual Friend eerily appeared out of the swirling fog. He bowed from the saddle, a movement that lifted the sodden hem of his dripping cape and evoked the crunch of compressed saddle leather.

  “Filthy weather, what-what?” he cheerfully commented. “You should’ve told me that you were allowed access to Andronicus. I’m beholden to my clever valet, who brought it to my attention. You must have Rave utterly at your feet to have permission to ride that beast. Must be hiding your more proficient charms from me.”

  “Please, enough teasing! I can’t wait a moment longer. Why this meeting? We’ve never been this incautious.”

  “Ah, impatient, is she?”

  “Tell me! Have I been found out?”

  “Dashing habit, I must say. Black suits your hair. Blast this weather. I vow it drives one to the perishing depths.”

  “If you don’t get on with it, I shall feel forced to thrash you!”

  Devoid of crop she wondered how she would go about accomplishing her threat, and so did he, if the speaking grin he wore had anything to say about it.

  “You see me shaking like a blancmange, m’dear. Since my negligent instructors failed to impress upon me the finer points of wrestling, I must relent. Instead, I shall devastate you with some rather shocking news. Have you brought your vinaigrette? The weather is far too damp to burn a feather.”

  “I never faint.”

  “You relieve me, child. You see, your knight in shining armor lives.”

  “Arthur? He’s alive?”

  “It seems that the reports I relayed to you a year ago were grossly inaccurate. Another man, mistaken for Arthur, got shot down. Arthur assumed this unfortunate’s name and continued with the deceased sentence. How he accomplished this incredible switch I have yet to learn.”

  “Arthur lives,” she repeated, dazed. “I’ve gotten used to thinking of him as dead.”

  “Barely alive, Cassandra. Do you know the lodge not far from here?”

  “A hunting box? I’m not quite sure I could find it again, as I happened upon it unexpectedly.”

  “It was meant as a hideaway. There is a stand of larch surrounding it. The whole area is quite overgrown and wild to make it appear not in use. Rave was always one for privacy, especially when it concerned his ladies.”

  Cassandra bristled. “What are you suggesting, sir?”

  “Curb your protective outrage, my dear. Rave may be an irksome hermit now, but he was distinctly rakish before he settled into title. He used to bring his bits of muslin up here with him and tuck his dashers in yon hunting box.”

  “The shameless devil! How could a lady allow herself to be put in such an untenable position?”

  “Not all of them were respectable. Regardless, none of them were the least bit concerned with their reputations once they had fallen in love with Rave. I wish I knew his secret. An acquaintance of mine insists that oysters are the answer.”

  “Nonsense! I refuse to give credit to any of this drivel. He’s not in the petticoat line.”

  “Not like he used to be, and you haven’t noticed any of his prettier female servants trudging about enceinte, have you? He may be a recluse now, but I warn you, he’s a sly one. Never underestimate him.”

  “What does any of this rubbish have to do with Arthur?” she asked, dismissing a subject she’d rather not think about. “Is he at the lodge?”

  “I was just coming to that, but you were so greedy to know the naughty details. Rave hasn’t made use of the hunting box for some time, but he does let it out to friends on occasion. Otherwise, it remains empty of lovers’ trysts. I begged Rave its use when I came up for the ball. Not wishing to cause any embarrassment to my fallen damsel, he’s politely stayed away.”

  “Arthur is your light-skirt?”

  “Precisely. I shall refrain from asking how you are so familiar with cant and such subjects unfit for maidenly ears.”

  “Foot! For some inexplicable reason men have always felt free to tell me anything and everything, and I will remind you that not a moment earlier, you were explaining in detail all of Ravenswold’s seedier habits. But tell me, how is Arthur?”

  “Asking for you every other minute. You’ll have to brace yourself. He’s in a very bad way. Burnt to the socket from what I can see. You must be prepared for his present condition. Arthur Fallone, as you knew him, is no more. He’s suffered dreadfully from whippings and lack of proper food. There were many beatings for his repeated attempts to escape.”

  “My poor Arthur.”

  “He’s also contracted lung fever. I believe the only thing keeping him alive is the wish to speak with you one last time. I had hoped that you could see him this morning, but time has somehow gotten away from us. Can you extricate yourself from under Rave’s ever watchful eye?”

  “I’m not sure. Do you have any idea why he developed this wretched possessiveness?”

  “I would rather you asked him about that. Would Lady Duncan be of any help to us?”

  “Absolutely not. She is firmly entrenched in the Ravenswold camp.”

  “Then could you plead the headache during dinner?”

  She shook her head. “I believe he will want me there for an announcement. He asked for me last night.”

  �
�As I expected. He made me aware of his plans to marry last fall, but at the time I had no idea that you were the lady. Very well then, from this morning’s ride you have developed a chill. You shall have to wing it, m’dear. Can you pretend a cough and flushed complexion on short notice? Rouge might help.”

  “I must, I suppose. Whatever the ruse, I will figure out some way to see Arthur.”

  “We’ll meet at the intersection of the post road near the park entrance. The lodge isn’t far from there. Will that be too difficult?”

  “You know it will be.”

  “There’s nothing else for it, old girl. Tonight, then.”

  “No, it may have to be the following night. I think he’ll be away from the house.”

  “While he has guests? That doesn’t sound like Rave.”

  She sighed. “He mentioned something about a special license.”

  “Excellent. That will keep him out from underfoot. Can you manage masculine attire? No one will take it amiss to seeing two gentlemen in their cups on the way home from the local pothouse, but a gentleman with a lady postillion in the dark of night? My word!”

  “You are a beast to be making fun of this! And I haven’t the costume with me. Aunt Duncan told my maid to throw out my buckskins.”

  “My man will provide. Be sure that your maid doesn’t see the contents. I’ll have it rigged up like a bandbox from London. The rest you must handle.”

  “Very well. Tell Arthur—”

  He raised his gloved open palm for silence. Cassandra placed a calming hand on the black’s neck and scratched to distract him. There was only silence, and then there came a faint splashing. Her eyes flew to Asterly.

  “Ravenswold,” he silently mouthed.

  Cassandra returned her attention to the distant sounds steadily getting louder. When she turned back to Mutual Friend, his form was a disappearing outline in the lifting fog.

  Cassandra gently heeled Andronicus. The horse lunged forward and vaulted across the stream to the opposite bank. The thud of his landing stopped the splashing noises.

  Cassandra urged the horse into a trot along the narrow path beside the stream and glanced over her shoulder as they swept by trees and brush. Morning’s misty light peered through the tree leaves, but it was impossible to see anything but wild forest.

  She allowed the horse to pick his own way, and he veered right. They broke through the brush and onto a wider trail. She moved him into a canter when she saw that the rhythmic beats would be muffled by soggy, leaf-blanketed ground. Low-hanging limbs hampered her flight along the trail. The clinging, wet branches caught at her habit, and one snatched the hat from her head.

  Cassandra reined in and debated whether or not to go back for the hat. When she heard the thudding approach of another horse, she jumped down to the ground. The hat was nowhere in sight. The rider had stopped but now came at a trot.

  She grasped the reins under the horse’s chin and pulled him into a thicket beside the road. She instantly rued her instinctive urge to hide but was stuck with the panic-inspired decision. She prayed that her hat had fallen where it wouldn’t be easily seen and put her hand over the horse’s soft muzzle to keep him quiet.

  Chapter 25

  Through a break in the foliage she saw Poseidon’s dappled flank stop directly in front of the thicket. The size of the top-booted foot in the stirrup confirmed Ravenswold as the rider. He had Poseidon back up a few steps on the narrow path. Next came the sound of leather squeaking.

  Cassandra held her breath and waited. Her heart sank when his brown jacket appeared through a break in the thicket. He stood in silence before her hiding place.

  When she refused to reveal herself, he finally spoke. “You dropped your hat.”

  She sensed him waiting for her response. When none came, he said, “It must be demmed uncomfortable in there, Cass.”

  She muttered a curse under her breath and began to maneuver out of the thicket. Andronicus, eager to get out of the enclosure, shoved her forward with his shoulder and threw her sideways into the brush. Her hair caught on a prickly twig. She released the reins to Ravenswold and tried to unsnarl her hair from the bramble’s grasp.

  Ravenswold threw the knotted reins over the black’s head and slapped Andronicus on the rump, sending her mount up the trail at a gallop.

  Cassandra mumbled curses and worked at her tangled hair. “I detest being followed, Ravenswold. Is scaring off my mount some sort of childish retribution?”

  He pushed her hands aside and untangled the strands from the bramble. “Start walking. Andronicus won’t go far. There’s a gated fence up ahead.”

  Cassandra had no choice but to trudge ahead of him with her rain-soaked hem and train draped over her arm and hair straggling down her back.

  Andronicus waited at the gate, calmly uprooting grass along the fence line. She grasped the side of his headstall and led him through the gate Ravenswold held open. After they came through, Ravenswold took the reins, tossed her hat on the ground and tied both horses to separate fence posts.

  Cassandra stayed silent, while Ravenswold propped his broad back against the fence and extended his long arms across the top rail. He hitched the heel of one boot onto the bottom rail and leaned back to begin an annoying, lazy contemplation of her rumpled condition.

  The rising sun, now warming the earth and sky, thinned the fog. Steam rose from the shoulders of his brown riding jacket. His topboots sweated moisture. The precisely knotted neckcloth had lost its starchy perfection, and his buckskins were soaked.

  Ravenswold continued to stare and nonchalantly tap his riding crop against the fence rail. His smile wasn’t the kind that reached his eyes. He dropped the crop and tilted his head to one side. She felt her blush deepen under his leisurely regard. He raised a gloved hand and thoughtfully rubbed his jaw before he finally spoke.

  “Turn around, Cass.”

  Defiant, furious, and feeling more than a little guilty, she refused to move. “To be spied upon is the outside of enough, but to be ordered to display my person, when I am overset and untidy is really too much!”

  He listened with a mocking grin. “Please turn around, Cassandra?”

  A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes so she exhaled an indignant puff of air and obeyed. Presenting her back, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

  Rave felt the smirk relax from his mouth. Her loosened coppery hair fell below her waist. The fall of golden-red waves shimmered in the dull morning light. His heart twisted from the suspicious thoughts whirling in his head. He wondered why the men of his family always made the same mistake of falling in love with the wrong kind of female, but somehow he would make this marriage work. He needed her as much as he yearned to right the many wrongs in her life.

  Cass wasn’t like his mother, whose pretended vapors and wilting personality masked the iron underneath. His mother had ruled with a silken-gloved hand of steel and made her husband pay dearly for his suspicion of her and his own flagrant adulteries. Rave stopped wondering who was at fault long ago. It never mattered to him, since he felt comfortable and safe under his mother’s protective rule, but like his father, he wouldn’t tolerate another man’s encroachment on what was his. Unlike his father, he wanted nothing to do with the adultery so common amongst his peers.

  With her back to him, Cassandra flinched when he took hold of her unbound hair. She tried to pull away and he hauled her back against his chest. He gently but firmly used a handful of hair to turn her head, forcing her to look up over her shoulder.

  “Meeting your lover, when not three hours ago you consented to become my wife? I don’t like it above half, my love.”

  She reached up to pry his fingers from her hair and learned it was impossible to unfix his grasp. “Would it be too much to ask you to let go of my hair, you great lummox!”

  “Far too much, dearest.” He tightened his hold when she squirmed for freedom. “Be still, Cass, and it won’t hurt.”

  She quieted, standing statue-still with he
r hands fisted. She quivered when his breath and lips brushed against her ear. Her response sent a shaft of pleasure down his legs. It took a moment to get his mind back on task.

  “You’ve made the mistake of taking me for a thickskull, Cass.”

  “I fail to see any evidence to think otherwise.”

  “Last night, you declared that you couldn’t bear a liar. Neither can I. Kindly explain this morning before I lose what’s left of my reason and remove a handful of this gorgeous stuff.”

  She said through clenched teeth, “Let me go, Ravenswold. Now.”

  Cassandra shook inside from so many wild emotions. When he released her, she stepped out of his reach, her movements stiff and awkward. She didn’t want to turn and face him but she had to confront this. Her heart sank when she did. Although he appeared calm, Cassandra knew otherwise and wanted to cringe and hide from his harsh expression. At the same time, she understood his anger. He had every right to be suspicious of her behavior—not that she’d ever admit it.

  He leaned back against the fence once more, his smirk terrifyingly sweet, his gaze smoldering. “Were you not about to tell me something, my love? Try to make it convincing.”

  “I’ve no need to convince you of anything, sir! I did meet someone, but it has nothing to do with you, and that person is not and never will be my lover. I’ve never had a lover, and I find it disgraceful of you to suggest such a thing to an unmarried female.”

  He considered her confession. She stood facing him, careful not to reveal how much she suffered under his silent perusal. His silence made her skittish and she finally cried out in exasperation. “Must you stare at me so? Don’t you think I would’ve told you last night if I had a lover? Killing a man is far worse!”

  “It depends on one’s opinion, Cass. You see, I’d rather you killed a man than had him for a lover.”

  “That’s appalling!”

  “You might try to understand my point of view.”

  “Absolutely not, sir. Your morals are sadly lacking. In any event, you will be assured very shortly when you discover just how little I know about matters of intimacy.”