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Her mother had branded her a fool. Her father had descended too far into ruin and drink to have any opinion on the matter.
The sight of Daniel kissing another woman had ripped her heart from her body and from that day forward she’d become a rebel against society’s dictates.
Love was for fools. Marriage was only a way for a man to claim ownership of a woman’s person and property.
He’d betrayed her, and that was that.
When next she saw him, they’d both worn well-practiced masks. He was London’s favorite rogue. She’d become a scandalously unconventional adventuress who was barely tolerated in society, and that only because her brother was a duke.
Ravenwood had shaped her life before, but now she was the one in control of her destiny. He’d been her best friend, and then he’d humiliated her and shut himself off from her. If she couldn’t have the life they’d planned together, she’d be a success on her own terms.
She’d become a successful archaeologist and a world-renowned antiquities expert, and she’d do it alone. She didn’t need anyone at her side. She could trust no one.
She used to love him; she didn’t love him now, and that was that.
Life went on. She achieved things. She dug through layers and layers of sand, or dirt, baking in the hot sun for months at a time without finding anything, and then... the rapturous moment when a relic of history, long buried, emerged.
Another puzzle piece to fit into the story of another powerful woman from history.
She felt more connected to history than to her own life sometimes.
There was far less risk in studying the lives of people long buried. They offered up their secrets and they never hurt her.
She couldn’t speak any of this aloud.
As Mari had said, words held power, and admitting how much she used to care about Ravenwood might give him more sway over her than he already possessed.
There was a knock at the library door. Indy was relieved. She could leave now and stop reliving these bitter memories.
Robertson appeared, an apologetic expression on his normally impassive face. “Your Grace, Lady India,” he nodded at them in turn. “I have the honor of announcing His Grace, the Duke of Ravenwood, who would not be so kind as to wait downstairs and instead insisted on being shown to you directly.”
Relief took flight and was replaced by the nearly unbearable mélange of dread and excitement Ravenwood’s presence always provoked.
He entered the library with his signature stride, the one she’d tried to copy when she infiltrated Somerset House yesterday.
Hear ye, hear ye, I command this room and everything in it, his entrance blared, as if he were a medieval king preceded by a ceremonial trumpeter.
There was no way to stop her physical response. Her heart always beat faster when he walked into a room.
He bowed over Mari’s hand, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “You’re looking blooming as always, Duchess. Marriage agrees with you, I do believe.”
Despite what Indy had just told her about Ravenwood’s character, Mari had the temerity to blush fetchingly, color washing across her freckled cheeks.
Ravenwood, thought Indy.Transforming otherwise sensible females into blithering ninnies since... forever.
“Were your ears burning, Your Grace?” asked Mari. “We were just speaking of you.”
“All bad, I trust?” That devilish grin, the one that used to make Indy’s heart melt.
Heart, she reminded it sternly,you are under my command, not his.
“Yes, actually,” said Mari, seeming to recall finally that she was angry with him for hurting Indy. “Very bad indeed.” She frowned at him sternly.
“Ravenwood.” Indy inclined her head, unwilling to give more than an inch of acknowledgement. “You must be here to see my brother.”
“Actually I came to see you. I visited your house and a maidservant informed me that you were here.”
Taken aback, Indy’s mind floundered between potential retorts. “You know where I live?” was all that emerged.
