Taking him off guard, she suddenly shifted her stance to press her knee against his groin. Hard.
On a sharp inhale, he inched back on the bed and out of the direct path of danger, releasing her. The inner beast shrank away from the bars of the cage.
Raven shook his head to clear it. He should have seen that coming. “If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t planning to seduce you.”
She glared at him on a huff. Then she moved to the washstand and began returning her jars and flacons into the confines of her red reticule with tiny, agitated pings and clinks.
“Worry not, I won’t call out for my cousin. I am fully aware that a man who prefers the favors of worldly women would never find me desirable.”
I’m just as stunned as you are . . . he thought but kept silent.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he found it thoroughly perfumed with lavender. This would surely haunt his thoughts for hours.
Feeling the need to put this behind him, he bent to swipe his coat up from the floor.
“Here is the salve I mentioned,” she said, leaving a small gallipot on the ledge. “And I will likely recall where I have seen that mark on your arm by the end of the day. I’ll send word.”
He expelled an exhausted breath and slipped the left sleeve over his shoulder, clenching his jaw against the discomfort. “Don’t bother. There’s nothing I need to know.”
Those wispy brows furrowed again. “There’s always something to learn.”
Taking hold of the reticule, he dropped in the remaining phials with a clatter, cinched it closed, and handed it to her. “Not everyone is like you, Jane. Some of us are satisfied with our lives just as they are. In fact, some of us don’t want anything to change. And you’ve already cost me enough this night.”
He punctuated his statement by draping the cloak over her shoulders, then prodded her toward the door with a little shove at the small of her back.
“But when I remember, and I will remember—”
“Jane has a brilliant memory,” Pickerington interrupted, lumbering into the room with the chamberstick in one hand, the water pitcher in the other, and crumbs littering the front of his coat.
“Perfect timing. You were just leaving,” Raven said, striding forward to take the jug in a grip so tense he thought he’d crush the curved glazed handle. “Found the buns in the larder, I see.”
Pickerington spoke over the hefty bite he was masticating. “Well, Jane did say two sweets—”
“Tout suite, Duncan,” she clarified, then shook her head as her cousin began licking his fingers one by one. “Oh, never mind.”
“I only ate the stale ones to get them out of your way, Raven. Left all the fresh ones.” Pickerington’s hearty chuckle sent a gust of pungent, liquored breath into the room.
Raven’s eyes stung from the fumes as he set the pitcher down.
“I’d say you’re more than half-sprung, as well. I hope you left some brandy for me. In the meantime, best keep you away from candles or else we all risk going up in flames. So, off you go.” Without delay, he began steering the big ox into the other room.
Then he went back to prod Jane along. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to my old skin. Thank you for the paste. I’ll manage the rest on my own.”
He was surprised, albeit relieved, that his guests went down the stairs and out to the pavement without any further comment. And, more importantly, no probing questions from Jane.
The mark he bore was so thoroughly enmeshed with the nightmares of his youth that he could scarcely look at it without brutal recollection.
At the carriage, he had one hand on the open door and the other trying to usher the little debutante inside. But Jane refused to budge.
He should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy to get rid of her.
“I cannot blame you for your eagerness to see the last of me, considering how pink you still are. However, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble”—she paused to gesture to her cousin who was currently grappling tipsily for the nearest lamppost—“could you put Duncan inside the carriage? He cannot possibly drive in his condition.”
“Surely, you don’t expect me to drive you.”
“Of course not,” she said, a quizzical smile flickering on her lips in the lamplight. And, damn it all, he was intrigued by it. What was she thinking?
He found out in the next instant as she skirted to the side and deftly scampered into the driver’s perch like a cat in a tree.
He was relieved that he wouldn’t be called upon to spend any more time with her, he told himself, and refused to look a gift horse in the mouth.
It took effort, but he managed to stuff Pickerington’s drunk arse inside the carriage. The bloke was already snoring against the squabs before the door closed.
Walking toward the front, he lifted his eyes to the small form on the bench. She looked almost like a child holding the reins.
An unforeseen shock of worry overcame him and his next words came out before he could stop them. “Say, do you know what you’re doing?”
“Who do you think taught Duncan?” she asked, handling the ribbons like a seasoned hack.
Always full of surprises, this one.
She lowered the brake and he waited for her to go.
Yet, she hesitated.
In the dim light that barely illuminated the heart-shaped face and pixie-like features beneath her hood, he spotted that inquisitive gleam in her eyes again. He felt a responding jolt, a kick to his pulse. And something in his gut told him that she was about to mention the mark again. She was too curious and tenacious by half.
“No,” he said before a single utterance could pass those tempting lips. “Leave it alone, Jane.”
“You don’t even know what I was—” She broke off when he arched a brow. Then she offered a half shrug of reluctance. “I cannot help it, you know. To me, questions must have answers or else there’s no peace.”
“So, even though you and I will never see each other again, you are still determined?”
She nodded on a resigned sigh. “I’m afraid it is an unbending part of my nature.”
“It’s your own time you’ll be wasting.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But who knows? That very mark could be the one thing that leads you to discovering who you really are. Haven’t you ever been plagued by a puzzle that must be solved?”
She didn’t wait for a response, but broke their connected gaze and gathered the reins. Then, with a sharp whistle that pierced the damp early morning, she drove off.
Hell’s breath. He really wished she hadn’t left him with that question hovering in the air like a specter, demanding an answer.
He narrowed his eyes at the carriage as it trundled down the street and out of view, believing she’d done it on purpose. She was smart enough to know that every orphan was haunted by the same questions—who am I and why in the bloody hell didn’t they want me?
He’d buried that yearning to find his parents long ago. Moving on from childish hopes had been his only way to survive. His only way to hold onto the man he’d become. To keep the life he created.
But because of one luckless meeting with a debutante, he felt that awful stirring again.
It was like having the ground shift beneath his feet, unsettling the earth just enough to reveal the corner of Pandora’s box hidden below the surface.