Nicole Jordan by Ecstasy

to see their union never became more intimate than that.
    Her grandfather, however, was acting as if he didn’t want the marriage to take place at all, Kell realized as he refocused his attention on the conversation. Oddly enough it was Lady Dalrymple who was championing the union.
    “You cannot be thinking clearly, Jervis,” the dragon said in her usual frigid tones. “Raven has no option but to wed—”
    “My thinking is quite clear, Catherine! You are the one who has gone maggoty. You said he was a damned murderer!”
    “Well, I don’t know that for a fact. The rumors could be mere gossip.”
    “But he is still a gamester.”
    “True. Mr. Lasseter is the scandal of polite society. But Raven is just as notorious at the moment. And disreputable or not, his marrying her will at least provide her with a crumb of respectability. Furthermore”—Lady Dalrymple shot her great niece a glance full of dislike, if not actual malice—“I hazard to say they deserve one another.”
    The undercurrents of tension in the room were palpable, and Lord Luttrell’s next accusation only added to the turbulence.
    “Doubtless he’s nothing but a damned fortune hunter.”
    Kell stiffened at that groundless indictment. He’d rightfully inherited the Lasseter wealth upon his uncle’s death but refused to touch it, turning the income and the use of the entailed estate over to his younger brother, along with the London town house, as recompense for what Sean had suffered. Instead, Kell had made use of his considerable skills as a gamester to amass a small fortune, which had allowed him to open his private gaming club. That success, along with several subsequent judicious investments, had increased his worth tenfold and made him sufficiently rich to earn a certain deference from any but the noble class.
    Before he could respond, though, Lord Luttrell continued in a voice full of contempt. “And you can’t deny he’s a bloody Irishman!”
    Raven broke into the altercation then, her tone grim. “I think you are forgetting that Ian Kendrick was part Irish. If he was good enough to be my father, then Mr. Lasseter is good enough to be my husband.”
    Kell scarcely heard her argument, for he was fighting his own deep resentment and barely controlled rage. The notion that he wasn’t worthy of marrying a British viscount’s granddaughter made him seethe. He could never forget that his mother hadn’t been good enough for the English Quality; that even Irish gentry were considered beneath them.
    That sort of upper class bigotry roused his defiance enough to have the opposite effect from the one Lord Luttrell intended; now Kell felt inclined to marry Miss Kendrick simply to spite her disdainful kin.
    “But his bloodlines,” Lady Dalrymple broke in, “are inconsequential at this point, Jervis. If she doesn’t wed him at once, the scandal will descend upon all our heads.”
    “The scandal be damned.” The elderly nobleman looked directly at his granddaughter, his eyes softening. “I’ll not force you to wed against your wishes. I’ll not repeat the mistake I made with your mother.”
    “It won’t be against my wishes, Grandfather,” Raven replied, a stubborn edge to her voice.
    Kell finally was able to control his anger enough to interrupt. “I don’t deny your charges regarding my profession, Lord Luttrell. But I’m not at all ashamed of my Irish heritage. As for my being a fortune hunter, you are far off the mark. I am quite capable of caring for your granddaughter and keeping her in her accustomed style. In fact I’m prepared to be exceptionally generous. I will provide her with a house and income of her own. And if you are still concerned for her welfare, your solicitors can draw up a marriage contract to tie up whatever fortune she now possesses and keep it out of my reach.”
    Lord Luttrell gave Kell a fierce glance, but Lady Dalrymple conferred an imperious nod of approval on the plan. “There, then. It is all settled.”
    A long silence followed while his lordship’s