Chasing Raven by Jayne Fresina Page A

restrained herself from rolling her eyes— another unladylike habit.
    "How delightful that you are back in London," her mother said a few minutes later, when he finally paused his excessive flattery. "You must call upon us at Mivart's Hotel."
    "I shall, my lady! I shall indeed."
    And so he did. The very next day.
    Monsieur Alphonse Reynaux had apparently befriended Lady Charlotte during the season of her debut, when she was a girl of eighteen. Referring to their past connection as "une affaire de jeunes innocents", he claimed never to have forgotten her since, although when Raven asked where he had been for the past thirty years, he merely shrugged and replied gravely, "La vie est cruelle!"
    Despite these "cruelties of life" he managed to spend lavishly and was always well-groomed— both habits that Lady Charlotte greatly esteemed in a man. He very quickly ingratiated himself into her affections again, calling every day before he was expected and staying long after his departure— in Raven's opinion— was overdue. But while his obsequious flattery made the daughter cringe, the mother was in her element. The lady had more color in her face without the assistance of carmine rouge or too many champagne bubbles, and she forgot to complain quite so much about her living arrangements, her wardrobe allowance, or the look she was given by the sullen sales girl at the haberdashers.
    Raven's mother had enjoyed similar liaisons before with men who gave her a rejuvenating dose of the adoration she craved. Like sunlight on a spring garden it brought a fresh bloom of life. It would not last, because the change of season was inevitable, but while that glow remained they could all breathe a little easier with less tension in the air. So what harm could there be in it?
    And the most advantageous point for Raven? A new affair kept her mother busy and out of her business. Hopefully, she would forget, for a little while, the importance of getting her daughter married.
    Alphonse Reynaux was very striking with his bright hair, tanned skin and brilliant blue eyes. Clearly he knew how to use all that to his favor and there was little below the surface, but he and her mother made a handsome couple—pretty to look at from a safe distance, even if their conversation was mind-numbing to overhear.
    Since Raven paid the man little notice and blocked out most of their chatter, she was surprised one day when her mother exclaimed, "Poor Alphonse. He has nothing, you know. I must do what I can to help him."
    She looked up from the letter she was writing to her father's new wife. "What do you mean, he has nothing?"
    "Alphonse is a casualty of many unfortunate investments. He trusted where he should not, and put his money into schemes that came to naught. Now he is left with a pittance."
    Raven frowned, her pen leaving an ink blot on the paper. "He does not appear to be short of money. He's always very fashionably attired."
    "Raven, how very tiresome you can be." Her mother was rearranging a bouquet of roses in her favorite vase and sighing like a sixteen-year-old ingénue. "One must always look one's best and keep up a good front, no matter how one is torn to tatters inside."
    "Yes, but—"
    "And one must spend money to make money."
    She could have argued with her mother, but instead she muttered, "Seamless logic, as ever, mama."
    Lady Charlotte in a good mood was like a well-fed leopard lying in the shade with its eyes closed. One did not prod the beast with a stick, if it could be at all avoided.
    As her mother warbled on about "charming little Alphonse" and his difficulties, Raven wondered exactly how her mother— who was no better at holding on to money herself— expected to "help" the man, but if this mission kept the lady occupied, so be it. Although her French gentleman had evidently played heavily on the lady's sympathy, there could be no danger of her giving him any money, because that would mean having to ask True Deverell for more and he