by Wolf, Bree
Indeed, it had been a marvelous night, and Zach spent the remainder of it remembering each and every little piece of it. The hint of strawberry that had clung to her hair, the warmth of her skin, the occasional blaze that had lit up her eyes even in the dim light of her chamber.
The morning sun found Zach snoring in his armchair, thoughts of Miss Hawkins still lingering on his mind, unwilling to relinquish their hold on him.
“My lord?”
The sound of Gusford’s voice, low and annoyingly disapproving, slowly wormed its way into Zach’s mind, ripping away the smiling image of Miss Hawkins and replacing it with one of his scowling butler. A stark decline, as far as Zach was concerned. “What brings you here, old man?” he yawned, squinting his eyes against the bright light streaming in through the wide open curtains.
Straightening, his butler shoved a silver platter into his face. “This was delivered for you, my lord.” He cleared his throat. “At the break of day.”
The reproach that clung to Gusford’s voice was not lost on Zach. He chose to ignore it. After all, one did not stumble upon such a spirited and dazzling young lady every night of the week, did one?
“Thank you,” Zach muttered, then waved his hand dismissively at his butler, knowing how annoyingly condescending Gusford found that gesture.
As expected, the man’s features hardened and he shuffled away with a myriad of muttered curses flying from his lips. Indeed, it was a monumental improvement, and Zach congratulated himself on freeing his butler from the restricting notion of being nauseatingly respectful every second of every day.
Anger needed to be voiced. If not, it had a nasty way of digging itself into one’s bones and tainting the days ahead. It would seem that Gusford was coming to understand this. Good for him!
Shifting his gaze from his butler’s receding back to the envelope in his hands, Zach felt his heart stutter to a halt when his gaze traced the delicate handwriting on the front, stating his name. Could it be from her? It certainly did not look like a formal invitation. How on earth had she managed to sneak it past her strict uncle? Zach doubted that the man would be pleased if he knew that she’d written him a letter. If indeed, she had!
Inhaling a fortifying breath, Zach tore open the envelope and pulled out a single parchment. Oddly enough, it looked a bit weathered as though it had been crumpled and then smoothed out again. His attention instantly veered from these details and dropped to the bottom of the page where it was signed Miss Busybody.
Zach couldn’t help but laugh out loud, picturing the mischievous spark he’d seen light up her eyes so often. Considering that she’d already dubbed her utterly boring suitor Lord Tedious, Zach wondered if she had a nickname for him as well. Unfortunately, her letter proved disappointing in that regard.
Dearest Lord Pembroke,
Regretfully, our conversation was cut short the other day. I do hope to continue it at the Blakewells’ ball tonight. Will you be able to attend? Should you need further persuasion, I believe the sketch on the back of this letter will suffice.
Sincerely yours,
Miss Busybody
Frowning, Zach turned the parchment over and the air rushed from his lungs in one gust as his eyes fell on the simple sketch he’d drawn the night he’d visited Ravengrove. The sketch he’d drawn of his father’s ring. Indeed, somehow it had ended up in Miss Hawkins’ possession. Of course, one didn’t need to stretch one’s imagination to figure out how!
Still, it proved that she had suspected him from the beginning. Otherwise, why would she have kept this sketch? Was it her way of confronting him? Was it only because he had all but admitted to his deed the night before that she’d provided him with this piece of evidence? Would she have held on to it otherwise?
Zach spent the remainder of the day pacing his study, his drawing room, the foyer and any other room that proved spacious enough to do so, his thoughts locked on the Blakewell ball that night and all that it might reveal. Never before had he felt so impatient, so tortured by the annoyingly slow ticking of the clock. Had someone added hours to the day and failed to inform him?
When night finally fell and the hour of the ball approached, Zach’s nerves were strung tighter than a bowstring. He couldn’t keep still. Not that he had been able to do so before. But by then, it was agitating him as well.
“You look…tense,” was all Markham offered as greeting when he met the man outside the Blakewells’ townhouse only moments before the ball was about to begin. How his friend knew to be there was beyond Zach. In that moment, he couldn’t have cared less.
All his thoughts were focused on Miss Hawkins.
“She wrote me a letter,” he hissed under his breath as they climbed the stairs side by side, “and asked me to meet her here.”
Markham chuckled. “I must say if you do not snatch her up, I might be tempted to.”
Zach’s feet slammed to a halt and, without thought, he turned on his friend, grabbing him by the collar. “Don’t you da—!” His voice died in his throat when he saw the man’s teasing grin and realized that he’d taken the bait Markham had dangled in front of him.
Growling under his breath, Zach gave his friend a shove and hastened inside, far from in the mood to listen to Markham’s admittedly spot-on remarks.
Unfortunately, arriving early didn’t cut short the time until Miss Hawkins finally made her appearance, and so Zach found himself walking from room to room, making polite conversation here and there while his pulse hammered in his veins.
“She’s here.”
Spinning around, Zach stared at his friend, who nodded toward the entrance where Miss Hawkins stood beside her colorless cousin, her aunt and uncle leading the way. As though trapped in a déjà vu, Zach groaned when Lord Tedious appeared as though out of thin air, claiming Miss Hawkins’ attention as well as her hand, leading her off toward the refreshment table.
“Stay calm,” Markham counseled. Still, the note of amusement in his voice riled Zach’s already tense nerves. “An opportunity will present itself. It always does.”
Inhaling a deep breath, Zach glanced at his friend, noting the way the man’s gaze seemed fixed on the couple by the refreshment table before he realized that it was the other Miss Hawkins who held Markham’s attention. “It is odd to think that she knew about Mortimer’s card game, isn’t it? From the way people whisper about it, I wouldn’t have thought any young lady to possess deeper knowledge about it.”
Markham nodded, and a slow grin stole onto his face before he turned to meet Zach’s gaze. “My thoughts exactly. There seems to be more to the Hawkins women than meets the eye.”
Zach nodded.
Willing himself to wait patiently until an opportunity to speak to Miss Hawkins alone would present itself, Zach watched her chat and laugh with her cousin, her eyes dimming every time Lord Tedious opened his mouth.
Now and then, her gaze rose and their eyes would meet across the room, and every time that happened, Zach’s stomach flipped. His pulse quickened and his breath stalled whenever she smiled at him, her teeth digging into her lower lip before her gaze returned to those within her circle. In these moments, Zach all but forgot why he needed to speak to her. In these moment, all he knew was that he did need to speak to her, to see her, to be near her.
To hear her laugh.
To see her roll her eyes at him.
To hear that teasing tone in her voice.
To feel her skin against his.
To hold her in his arms.
“You look like a man obsessed,” Markham commented dryly, and yet, despite his own words, his friend remained where he was, his gaze no more veering from Miss Caroline Hawkins than Zach’s own was capable of abandoning his own target.
It would seem they’d finally found something they had in common!
Out of the corners of his eyes, Zach saw the orchestra pick up their instruments after a short break and, without thought, he found himself striding across the room toward Miss Hawkins.
M
iss Rebecca Hawkins, to be precise.
After all, the only moment he could claim her full attention without arousing suspicion was while dancing and he’d waited long enough. Before Lord Tedious could sweep her out onto the dance floor – as he no doubt believed was his right and his right alone – Zach all but elbowed his way into their small circle, ignoring the mental image of Gusford rolling his eyes at him at this breach of decorum.
“Miss Hawkins,” he addressed her, noting the way she drew in a shuddering breath the moment her eyes fell on his. Then a dazzling smile came to her lips, and Zach felt his own pulse pause as though needing a moment to steady itself. “You promised me the next dance,” he lied through his teeth, loving the displeased scowl that came to Lord Tedious’ face almost as much as the conspiratorial gleam that sparked to life in Miss Hawkins’ eyes.
“Indeed, you’re correct, my lord.” Casting a placating smile at Lord Tedious, she took Zach’s proffered hand and allowed him to pull her toward the dance floor. “I admit you took an awfully long time to make up your mind, my lord,” she whispered as they stood up together, her green eyes holding his with a new familiarity. “It seemed as though you had no intention at all of seeking my company.”
Zach grinned, suddenly feeling completely at ease. “I received some foolish advice to wait for the opportune moment.”
Miss Hawkins laughed as the orchestra began to play. “How foolish, indeed! In my experience, those who wait for such a moment will never find it.” She sighed. “If only I could simply have walked up to you and asked for a dance, it would have saved us a lot of time.”
Zach chuckled. “Your uncle would have surely suffered a heart attack.” He glanced at his rival, who continued to glare at them from where he still stood by the refreshment table. “Perhaps Lord Tedious as well, as he seems utterly displeased with me at the moment.”
Miss Hawkins smiled one of those smiles that made her face glow and touched Zach in a way that he had to fight the overwhelming instinct to pull her into his arms. “It would serve them right. Perhaps not a sound plan, but a tempting one, indeed.” Something changed in her gaze then, and she seemed to be looking more closely at him.
A moment ticked by, then another, before she rolled her eyes upward, huffed out an annoyed breath and asked, “Will I have to wait all night for you to ask what it is you wish to know?”
Reminded of what had brought him here that night, Zach drew in a deep breath, torn between the connection he felt toward her and the caution he knew he ought to exercise. “What game are you playing? For you seem to enjoy—”
“Can you truly blame me,” she laughed, “to have a bit of fun with this discovery when it is you who,” her voice dropped as she leaned closer, “is breaking into other people’s homes?”
Zach’s jaw tensed. “I’ve told you why. Was that not enough? Do you still intend to disclose what you’ve learned?”
The expression on her face sobered, and he thought to see a hint of disappointment shining in her emerald gaze. “That was never my intention,” she told him solemnly. “Not for a single moment. All I wanted was…” Her voice trailed off when the dance drew them farther apart. Still, the mix of regret and longing that lingered on her features spoke to Zach in a most familiar way…as it had from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on her.
There was so much more to say, and yet, this was neither the time nor the place. And so Zach did not ask what his heart wanted to know, but instead what his head told him to inquire after. “Will you return the ring to me?”
“I can’t,” she whispered, the hint of an apologetic smile on her lips.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a fake.”
Never in a thousand years would Zach have expected that answer. Stunned, he stared at her, almost forgetting to move his feet in time to the music. “A fake?” he croaked, certain that he had to have misunderstood her.
Miss Hawkins nodded. “I had it fashioned after your sketch.”
Again, Zach felt as though someone had delivered a blow to his stomach. “What? Why on earth would you have done so?” It didn’t make any sense. And yet, all that had happened lately, everything involving Miss Hawkins, had been highly unusual.
“Are you wondering if I’m mentally ill?” she asked, grinning.
Zach couldn’t help but chuckle. “Honestly? It crossed my mind.” Squeezing her hand, he drew her closer than proper decorum allowed. “Why?”
Her eyes remained on his. “To draw you out. To make you see me.” A hint of a blush touched her cheeks and for the duration of a heartbeat, a tremble stole over her before her chin rose back up a fraction and a touch of steel came to her eyes.
Zach couldn’t help but stare at her. Never in his life had anyone gone to such lengths to seek him out. Never had anyone cared about him in such a way that they would risk their own future only to…to… “What is it you want?” he whispered when the last notes of the music drifted away.
Miss Hawkins’ lips thinned in displeasure as her gaze drifted sideways to where Lord Tedious came marching toward them. “That blasted man!” she hissed before her eyes returned to Zach, softening the moment they found his.
“He thinks you’re his,” Zach grumbled as his own hand tightened on hers.
“Well, he’s wrong.”
“Is he?”
“Nothing is settled yet,” she told him, and yet, despite the resolve shining in her eyes, Zach detected a hint of unease in her voice. Again, she glanced over her shoulder at her approaching suitor. “Will you visit me again?” she asked then, looking up at Zach, her eyes almost pleading as her own hand squeezed his in return.
“Is that an invitation?” Zach asked, smiling.
Miss Hawkins chuckled. “A direct approach seems far safer for you don’t seem to pick up on subtleties. So, yes, it is an invitation.”
“Are you certain?” His gaze searched hers, all humor gone, as he tried to determine if she was truly willing to risk everything for…for what exactly?
“Pardon me, Miss Hawkins,” Lord Tedious interrupted in that moment, casting a pointed look at Zach before snatching up Miss Hawkins’ hand, “but your uncle wishes to see you.”
As her suitor pulled her away, she turned to look at Zach over her shoulder, her eyes seeking his as her head bobbed up and down, giving him her answer.
Zach could only hope she knew what she was doing for he sure as hell didn’t have a clue.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A Scheming Debutante
Pacing her chamber, Rebecca grumbled curses under her breath that would shock her aunt and bring her uncle’s wrath down upon her if they knew. Still, Rebecca didn’t feel any better. Not even a little.
For the past four nights, she’d been waiting for Lord Pembroke to return, and each and every night, she’d been disappointed. Her heart hurt, and anger burned in her belly as she stalked across the warm carpet between her bed and her vanity. Her feet were bare. Under the robe she generally wore over her nightgown – after all, she needed to keep up appearances – was a simple day dress. She had been wearing it for the past four nights, and for what? Nothing!
All her carefully laid plans had been for nothing, and Rebecca’s frustration rose to such an extent that she had to grit her teeth to keep from screaming. Yes, she was more than willing to take risks, but that didn’t mean she was reckless. She knew that if her uncle found out about this, there’d be hell to pay. Still, risks were worth taking if the promised reward was worth it as well. Was that not true?
Again, Rebecca glanced at the small jewelry box on her vanity. Hidden inside was her precious list. The list that had all but mocked her every day since she’d first penned the words, threatening to remain nothing but a daydream.
But then she’d met Lord Pembroke and hope had returned.
Unfortunately, now, he had failed to.
Indeed, he could not have misunderstood her invitation this time. That much was certain. Then why wouldn’t he come? Did he n
o longer care now that he knew she did not possess his father’s ring? That it was only a fake? Had he only pretended in order to get her to hand the ring back to him?
Oh, what a fool she’d been! She ought never have told him the truth at the Blakewell ball. She ought to have waited until his next visit. However, the moment he’d asked, he’d seemed so utterly vulnerable as though wearing his heart on his sleeve. She’d seen longing and the same need to speak to her in his gaze. Had she been mistaken? Had she only seen what she’d hoped to see?
“You look angry.”
At the sound of his voice, Rebecca spun around, staring at the man crouched in her open window, one hand still wrapped around the rope he’d used to climb up the side of her uncle’s townhouse. His eyes hidden behind the familiar black mask seemed dark in the dim light, and yet, the teasing smile on his lips melted the anger from her heart.
“I’ve been waiting,” she snapped, crossing her arms in front of her chest in order to hold on to the indignation she had every right to feel. Unfortunately, joy at seeing him, at seeing that same smirk on his face, that way his eyes always seemed to seek out hers, soon had it running for the hills.
Climbing inside, Lord Pembroke glanced behind her at the door, a hint of unease in his gaze. “You’re certain you want me to be here?”
Rebecca nodded without thought. “Would I have invited you if I wasn’t?”
“That doesn’t make it a wise decision,” he retorted, his gaze lingering on her face at the harshness in her tone. “You’re truly upset with me,” he mumbled, surprise drawing a smile onto his face.
“I’ve been waiting!”
“So you’ve said!”
“Then where have you been?”
Zach chuckled. “You might have invited me,” he told her, his feet carrying him toward her as though he, too, detested the distance between them, “however, you failed to specify when.” Stopping in front of her, he exhaled a deep breath before that teasing smirk returned to goad her. “As you’ve said, subtleties are not my forte.”