It was awful of her to create a scandal during her cousin’s elegant soirée. Despite the Boscastle family’s notoriety, Ravenna doubted her relatives would approve of her dramatic method of exposing her fiancé’s infidelity. But what else could a lady do when those who ruled her life refused to listen?

No one at home in the castle believed the rumors that her betrothed had dishonored a maidservant during the spring fair. Sir David Cynon, a half-hearted soldier and successful tradesman, had denied the charge to Ravenna’s brothers. When confronted the girl herself swore nothing untoward had happened.

“Sir David accompanied me home in his wagon after I twisted my ankle in a sack race,” she said in a high unconvincing voice. “He was a complete gentleman.” A week later she mysteriously vanished from the village to take a position as a governess in the north, which meant she would never be seen or heard from again.

“Your wedding in London is months away,” Ravenna’s aunts had said as consolation. “Whether there is any truth to the gossip or not, David will have come to anchor by then.”

Well, it was less than a month until Ravenna and her betrothed would exchange vows in St. George’s Hanover Square church. David, ever the gentleman in public, had accepted congratulations on the engagement before supper. According to Miss Isolde Fychan, Ravenna’s maid and confidante, who had gathered her information from a footman, David had also made an arrangement with a married viscountess. The liaison was to take place in the gardens while the lady’s husband played whist in an upstairs gaming room. Ravenna’s brother had set off to confirm the unsavory details.

This time Ravenna would catch David outright and win her freedom in one scandalous act. Understandably, she would also catch hell when all was said and done, but she would worry about that later.

She followed David like a phantom as he crossed the brilliantly lit ballroom. If any of the footmen noticed her furtive escape, they looked the other way. The party had swelled to such proportions she had easily evaded her family’s attention.

The only person to view her suspiciously was her childhood friend, the Duke of Rochecliffe. Simon was no stranger to questionable conduct, but then as a peer and bachelor, the polite world winked at his misdeeds. Indeed, the more sins a duke committed, the higher his stock rose.

Granted, he might have been staring at Ravenna because she’d been stealing peeps at him since she had spotted him at supper.

Not only was he perceptive, as she recalled, but he had always been indecently attractive and difficult to ignore, even during their younger days. His dark charisma had evidently deepened into a dangerous magnetism. Tall, graceful, a wine-colored birthmark staining his left cheek, he exuded an unsmiling melancholy that stirred a woman’s sympathy. No wonder her cousin-in-law and hostess Jane, the Marchioness of Sedgecroft, had cautioned her earlier in the evening that Simon had become a man to be avoided at all costs.

“That is a tease, Jane. Now you have whetted my curiosity. Reveal what information you have to substantiate your claim.”

“I hesitate to repeat this,” Jane said. “You have been isolated most of your life and are not practiced in vice.”

“Are you?” she asked in amused curiosity.

“I’m married to Grayson. Vice was written into our wedding vows. And I’d rather offend you than be responsible for your decline. I have been told by a reliable source that the duke is a shocking man. He may or may not have become completely irredeemable. That is, his habits might discompose someone of your artlessness. I have lived in London too long to bat an eye at such things.”

“Supply the details,” Ravenna said. “I have brothers who are anything but pious. Moreover, I’ve known Simon for years. Name the unimpeachable authority who has maligned my dear friend. If he has not crossed the Border of Disrepute, perhaps he merely needs a nudge in the other direction.”

Jane lowered her luminous eyes. “You’re forcing me to share a sworn secret out of worry for you.”

“Then don’t tell me. I don’t need a burden on my conscience.” Indeed, she would be swamped with enough guilt after tonight. In all likelihood she would desperately need Jane’s support, unless the family disowned her.

“Then my conscience insists I enlighten you.” Jane resumed her confession with enthusiasm. “The owner of London’s most exclusive brothel confided in me that Simon is the most sought-after client in her house. As the gossip goes, he is a splendid lover.” She paused. “His desires are indecent.”

Ravenna’s instinct was to spring to Simon’s defense. Certainly the rumor could be true. In recent years she had heard whisperings of Simon’s romantic exploits, but none of her relatives could claim innocence when it came to love. She felt protective of her old friend.

“How do you know a brothel keeper?” she asked Jane.

“I visited her once for womanly advice on how to handle Grayson at a time when he was rather difficult. But that is another story. Do you understand what I have said?”

“I’m not an utter dunce.”

Jane’s eyes glinted. “Rochecliffe made such a strong impression on the keeper that she reserves a special room for his rare visits and has honored him with a salacious nickname.”

“Which I do not wish to hear, but you will tell me, nonetheless.” In all honesty, she would love to know, but time was ticking away, and she had her own cad to take care of. “Oh, give over. What is he called?”

“’The Duke of a Thousand Desires.’”

Ravenna smiled. “Oh, dear.”

“He is a sophisticated man,” Jane added unnecessarily.

“Due to his numerous desires?”

“I do not know the particulars,” Jane admitted. “His appearance indicates as much. I gleaned only one other tidbit of unusual information while I was eavesdropping on a conversation between my husband and Heath. It seems that Simon is involved in some risky dealing.”

Ravenna’s lip curled in distaste. “With courtesans?”

“That was not my impression. I shall look into the matter later this week. For tonight, try not to engage his interest. Don’t dwell on the talk that he is a splendid lover. Do not even acknowledge that he exists.”

“That’s a bit awkward, not to mention impolite. Someone is bound to wonder why I’m ignoring an old friend. That might embarrass the duke.”

“He does not seem to be man overly concerned with what others make of him.”

“He never was,” Ravenna said pensively.

“Which is probably why he fits in so well with our family. He is on the top of the list of people I told you to avoid in London.”

Human nature being what it was, this warning rendered Simon irresistible. Ravenna had wondered what had occupied his time since his last visit to Wales. Yet whenever she asked her brothers about him, the subject quickly changed.

She’d come to the conclusion that Simon had grown up to be a naughty gentleman. It was almost an inevitability, considering his unsupervised youth. Simon had been accomplished at outsmarting his college professors and his parents had died when he was young, forcing him to find his own way under the guidance of tutors and older uncles who believed a peer should not demonstrate emotion. Expressing one’s virility was apparently another matter.

She looked up again. Simon was gone. Her cousin Heath, her primary guardian in London, stood in his place. Was Heath staring at her askance? He was far too intelligent to hoodwink. She retreated behind another guest before he could approach her.

An unexpected hush fell across the ballroom as the band prepared for the final set.

It was time for Rhys to meet her. The wallflowers shifted, hoping to dance or disappear. Couples milled about the floor in their best finery. Champagne and lemonade flowed.

The ball would end soon, as would Ravenna’s fleeting existence in the beautiful world. However, the party had only begun, with a play, gambling, and breakfast on the lawn to follow the night.

David had timed his tryst well, having explained that he would be busy for the next hour greeting a few old friends. Ravenna had just lost sight of him when her brother finally joined her at the doors to the gardens. “Thank heavens,” she murmured. “You took forever. I thought you might have reconsidered.”

“It occurred to me.” Rhys stood considerably taller than she did; although they weren’t as alike in appearance as they’d once been, they had inherited similar unruly black hair and blue eyes. Her twin was her devoted ally even if she was afraid he’d become a rake. He had served in the King’s Royal Hussars and she was proud of him.

“What did you learn?” she asked as he guided her to quieter spot.

“I heard David and Lady Frampton confirming their rendezvous while I was loitering upstairs in the Italian gallery. I felt like one of the Duchess of Wellington’s lady spies. I had to duck behind a vestal virgin so that your betrothed wouldn’t recognize me.”

She pursed her lips. “I’m surprised you didn’t engage the virgin’s interest while she was hiding you.”

“Didn’t I mention that she was a statue? Grayson has one in every corner. And I never show interest when it isn’t invited. By the way, you are not allowed to visit that room.” He pulled out his enameled pocket watch. “They should be in the garden soon. Hear me, Ravenna. I am still not convinced this is for you to do. David might turn on you. I’ve seen the temper that hides behind his charm.”

“He calls it manliness.”

“I call it cowardice. I’d prefer to be the one to confront him.”

“After me,” she said, looking away.

“His quick tongue won’t sway me this time. Why not entrust me with this task?”

Because a sorrowful part of her wanted to give the louse the benefit of the doubt. Because her sense of fair play insisted he have a chance to be proven innocent, a flirt at worst. And if she found out otherwise, she needed to exorcise him from her life once and for all.

“Why not?” he asked her again.

“Our family is prone to extreme measures. I don’t want a violent scene.”

“He deserves it.” He let out a sigh. “As you like. He and the viscountess were so closely pressed together in conversation I couldn’t have stuck a pin between them.”

“Then on with the night. I flush him out. You, and anyone else in the vicinity, serve as my witness. He won’t crawl out of this deceit.”

He stared down at his watch. “You shouldn’t need more than seven minutes. After that I shall intervene. If anything happens in the meantime, call for me.”

“It’s what comes after that I’m worried about.”

“What ‘after’?” he said bleakly. “A broken engagement, a blackened name, and probable exile to the West Indies.”

“At least I won’t be married to a philanderer.” She caught her lip in her teeth, staring out across the terrace. “Does the viscount have any idea about his wife?”

“No. The hapless old fool is winning at whist. Hurry now. You remember the lay-out of the gardens from our stroll this morning?”

“It looks different in the dark,” she murmured.

“They’re meeting at the Temple of Aphrodite,” he said. “There are no lights past the fountain. The stars will have to guide you. Turn to your right once you reach the end of the cockle-shell path or you will be visible in the clearing. You do not wish me to accompany you?”

She shook her head resolutely.

“I’ll wait down here by the wall where I won’t be easily seen,” he said. “I’m afraid Miss Haviland spotted me on the stairs and is seeking me out.”

“Our anonymity in London won’t last much longer. We’ll be as infamous as the rest of the family before the party ends.”