From her expression, she seemed pitifully eager to learn about her daughter, and Skye was happy to oblige. “Lady Daphne is a lovely, intelligent young woman now. She is something of a scholar—a talented artist and an expert on roses. Quite an achievement for one so young. She is barely my age.”
Rachel’s response was a watery smile. “I always loved roses … my garden was my one solace during those terrible times. But tell me … she never married? She is a spinster?”
Skye hesitated to brand Lady Daphne with the spinster label. “She is still unattached, I believe, but I don’t know her reasons.”
“I imagine she would not wish to follow my example and marry without love,” Rachel muttered in a stronger tone.
Then she abruptly changed the subject, seeming eager to learn about her former lover also. “Tell me … How fares Lord Cornelius?”
“He is well enough, I suppose,” Skye answered. “Or to be more specific, his health is good. But his spirits … not so much. After your tragic death, he turned to his books for comfort and became quite the literary scholar. He never married, but it was only when I found your letters hidden away in his library that I understood why.”
“I never thought he wouldn’t marry and have a family.”
“You were the love of his life,” Skye said simply. “When you harbor a love that deep, it is difficult to move on. Uncle Cornelius kept all your letters. He even kept a dead rose pressed among them, in remembrance of you, I imagine.” From her reticule, Skye pulled out the box of letters.
Rachel’s mouth trembled as she opened it and unwrapped the scrap of muslin on top. The red rose, now brittle and faded with age, had a delicate blue ribbon tied around the stem.
“This was from the last time we met … a pledge of my love.”
She put her hand to her mouth to stifle another sob. “I could never have married him, though. My parents insisted that I accept the wealthy baron instead.”
Hawk spoke for the first time in several minutes. “Did you know that Farnwell died eight years ago?”
“Yes.… Bridget has corresponded with some of her family in England over the years. We heard about my husband from time to time. His son from his second marriage inherited the title.”
“But you have never thought about returning to England?”
“Oh, I have thought about it … every day of my life. But I have never dared. The temptation to see my daughter would have been too great. It would have been unforgivably selfish of me even to try to contact Daphne. No good could come of it. She has her own life to live.”
Skye was not thinking only of Daphne, however. “Do you still have feelings for my uncle?”
“Yes,” Rachel admitted hoarsely. “I love him dearly still. As you said, love like that does not die easily, not with time or distance or even death.”
“Then would you consider returning with us to England? I know Uncle Cornelius would be overjoyed to see you.”
Rachel shook her head slowly, despairingly. “I … am sorry but I cannot. I fear for Daphne if my secret ever came out.”
“There is no reason for your secret to come out unless you wish it to,” Hawk told her. “I believe we can conceal your past identity from society, particularly if you continue to use your assumed name.”
“Yes,” Skye pressed. “I think it is time for you to come home. You have suffered more than enough.” When Rachel hesitated, Skye added, “This is your chance to see your daughter again.”
The pain on her face was evidence enough. “It is, and I would like nothing more than to gaze upon her face and hold her in my embrace. But the ramifications … Just think of the harm the truth could cause her. The man she always thought was her father was not really her flesh and blood after all.”
“I agree that any revelations will have to be handled delicately and that we should not rush to tell Daphne of her parentage. Perhaps you might never choose to divulge the truth about her birth. But we will help you negotiate the dangers every way we can.”
Apparently Rachel was not convinced. “But William’s son—the present Baron Farnwell. He is said to be much like his father.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I have lived in fear for so long. William was in London at the time of my supposed drowning, and I know he was relieved to be rid of me, but I always feared he would find me.”
“You needn’t be afraid any longer,” Skye declared softly. “I have every faith that Lord Hawkhurst will ensure your safety, and your daughter’s as well.”
“I cannot risk it.”
“I believe Daphne would want to know her mother, don’t you?”
When Rachel looked anguished, Skye softened her offensive even more. “Will you at least consider our proposal, Mrs. Donnelly?”
Bridget O’Brien brought in the tea tray just then, so Rachel never replied.
Accepting that Rachel needed time to digest all their revelations, Skye purposely changed the conversation to lighter matters, telling the baroness about the Wilde family—how Lord Cornelius had taken over the raising of five orphaned cousins when their parents had perished at sea, with often humorous results, since he had little experience with children.
A short while later, Skye met Hawk’s eye, silently asking if they should end their call. When he gave a brief nod, she rose to her feet and purposely called Rachel by her assumed name. “We will leave you now, Mrs. Donnelly, but may we return tomorrow?”
“I … would rather you did not. I need time to think.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I will let you know my decision soon, Lady Skye. I hope you can understand. I believed that part of my life was over. After all these years, I … I don’t know that I want to resurrect it again, even if I could.”
Disappointment filled Skye, but she strove hard not to show it. “Of course we will respect your privacy. We are staying at the Fox and Hound in Castlecomer, should you wish to contact us. I will leave these letters for you to read.…” Skye indicated the box. She did not want to give up her uncle’s treasured correspondence, but perhaps they would help Rachel remember the tender feelings she’d once borne for him.
They left her sitting in the parlor while Bridget showed them out. On the return drive to Castlecomer, Skye was unusually quiet—a state that Hawkhurst apparently noticed.
“I thought you would be more pleased at finding Lady Farnwell.”
Skye hastened to reassure him. “I am pleased. Truly, I am ecstatic. But I worry that she will never return home where she belongs. Her fortitude is remarkable, but she will always put her daughter’s welfare above her own, which means Uncle Cornelius may never have a chance to rekindle the love they once shared.”
She shook off her solemnity. “Thank you for finding her, Hawk. Your talents are remarkable.”
“I was not fishing for compliments,” he responded, evidently suspecting her of trying to butter him up again.
“I am only giving praise where it is due. I could never have done this on my own.”
“Macky deserves the credit.”
“But it was your keen questioning that led us here.”
But locating Lady Farnwell was only the first step. Realizing how far they had yet to go, Skye exhaled a sigh. “I did not expect her to be so adamantly set against returning with us.”
“I have every faith that you will succeed in convincing her. Your powers of persuasion are first-rate.”
Now he was trying to bolster her spirits. “But it may take quite some time. You cannot remain here in Ireland for very long.”
“I can spare another week or so.”
Skye searched his face in surprise. “You would do that for her?”
Hawk gave her a wry look. “I would do it for you, sweet wretch. We came here for a purpose, and I dislike leaving a mission unfinished. While we wait, I can resort to my original excuse for coming to Ireland—searching for brood stock.”
“I thought that was a ruse.”
“It was, but I am not letting you give up so
soon.”
Skye pressed her lips together in new resolve. “Oh, I am not giving up. As soon as we reach the inn, I will send Lady Farnwell a note. There are many more arguments I can make for our case. And I will keep sending her messages each day until she sees the merits of our plan. I agreed I would not visit her, but I never said I would not write.”
Her vow brought a glimmer of amusement to Hawk’s eyes, but Skye would not apologize for her zeal in saving her uncle from a continued loveless, lonely existence. “Even if it takes an entire year, I am not leaving here empty-handed. Still … the decision must be hers. Happiness can yet come out of her tragic past, but she will have to reach out and seize it.”
Hearing the fervor in her declaration, Skye realized she ought to heed her own advice. If she was ever to realize her dream of finding true love with Hawk, she had to take advantage of their journey together and not let her chance slip through her fingers.
When they returned to the inn, she immediately began composing her first missive to Lady Farnwell. Hawk spent the afternoon reviewing his list of stud farms in Kilkenny and the neighboring counties, then wrote to two of them, stating his intentions to call the next day, and sent a messenger off.
“May I come with you tomorrow?” Skye requested as a way to keep up her own spirits and not dwell on what she hoped was only a temporary setback with Lady Farnwell. Hawk agreed without apparent reluctance.
However, when it came time to retire and Skye asked if she could spend the night with him, he refused in no uncertain terms, even when she reminded him that they could relieve each other’s carnal pain.
Her tone was lighthearted, but for an instant as she met his suddenly smoke-dark eyes, she glimpsed the smoldering passion he was striving to repress.
His sense of honor won out, though, and he resisted her entreaties when he escorted her to her room, even when she turned to gaze up at him with her most imploring expression.
In fact, judging from his ironic smile, Hawk enjoyed thwarting her designs as he gently pushed her inside and shut the door in her face.
As Skye stared at the wood panel, she bit back a mild oath, then sighed heavily. She supposed it was admirable that Hawk was putting her reputation and welfare first, but it frustrated her keenly that he refused to cooperate in his seduction.
The man had the self-control of a monk, and she had no idea how to break it.
Hawk was not nearly as sanguine as he appeared, yet he repaired to his own bedchamber quite alone, resolved to be ruthless with himself in fighting his powerful attraction for Skye.
She was temptation incarnate. His hands hungered for her—bloody hell, his entire body hungered for her. Her alluring invitation was nearly impossible to withstand, especially when she was promising him another blazing night of passion.
It was only in the darkest hours of the night—when sleep completely eluded him—that Hawk let himself give in to temptation, remembering the memory of her flesh pliant against his fingers and mouth, and the reverse: Skye kissing his hard male flesh with her soft lips, teasing him to painful arousal, the silk-bright curtain of her hair draped over his loins.…
Then she moved upward to take his mouth with hers. Feeling a warmth so rich he could taste it, he eased her onto her back and settled between her thighs, wanting to impale her till he drowned in her. Curbing his urgency with effort, he slowly thrust inside her, feeling her moist flesh close around him tightly, feeling her surround him. The pleasure began, her perfect breasts rising to mold against his chest, her hips arching to meet his.…
The tantalizing fantasy was the only thing that finally allowed him to sleep.
For the next two days, Skye persisted in her efforts to persuade both Lady Farnwell and Lord Hawkhurst to embrace her goals, with precious little success.
She spent that time viewing Hawk in his element as they toured the countryside, inspecting broodmares and blooded stallions. He rode several prospects; thus she had another firsthand demonstration of his magical touch with horses. Skye’s frustration grew, however, at the failure of her romantic schemes. Not only did Hawk markedly ignore her attempts to deepen their intimacy, he seemed to relish acting contrarily just to see her reaction. Either that, or he was deliberately provoking her in order to take her mind off her worries.
To her dismay, Lady Farnwell had responded to none of her messages, even though the courier was instructed each time to await a reply. Yet whenever Skye grew overly earnest, Hawk found some way to lighten her mood, usually by teasing her much as she’d done to him, or ribbing her about acting cowardly and giving up. His riling was reminiscent of her own family, where she had to hold her own with her provocative brother and cousins.
Their sparring generated some lively conversations, and Skye looked forward even more to their solitary evenings together playing chess or cards, where there were no grooms or stable masters or inn servants to interfere with her pursuit of Hawk. Otherwise, he was the same enigmatic, elusive “beast” she had known from the beginning of their relationship. He refused to answer a single question about his work with the Guardians and wouldn’t reveal an inkling about his life on the Isle of Cyrene, about which she was highly curious.
Once, Skye was exasperated enough to issue a warning: “You had best take care, my lord. I will ply you with brandy, then tie you up and force you to reveal your secrets.”
He laughed outright at her threat. “I should like to see you try.”
She liked his laughter, but there were still too few incidences of his lightheartedness to her mind.
The second afternoon, she was preparing to visit yet another stud farm with Hawk when “Mrs. Donnelly” was announced. Hope mingling with apprehension, Skye invited Lady Farnwell to join them in their private parlor. After ordering tea from the inn footman, she held her breath while awaiting the baroness’s decision.
Yet Rachel did not immediately state her intentions. “I have carefully considered your rationale in favor of my returning to England.”
“And?” Skye prompted.
“I don’t believe it would be wise.”
Skye wanted to retort that sometimes love was not wise but worth the risk. Although Rachel had escaped her abusive husband, she still badly needed healing; love—from both Daphne and Cornelius—could help her to heal.
Another argument Skye had championed in her missives was that life was too short to let the rare chance for happiness pass by. But rather than repeat her logic, she schooled herself to patience, hoping that in this case, heart would win out over mind. Rachel had not refused outright, which meant she was still debating.
She seemed most interested in how Lord Hawkhurst’s plan might work. “You said my past could be kept secret, my lord. Is that even possible?”
“It’s quite possible,” Hawk answered easily. “As I said, you can maintain your current identity as Mrs. Meg Donnelly. If you refrain from public appearances—specifically if you keep away from Edgar Farnwell’s district and don’t show your face in London—you should be safe from discovery. For the time being, you will be a guest at my country estate in East Sussex and need never be seen by anyone who formerly knew you. And we can concoct a reasonable story to explain any resemblance to the late Lady Farnwell.”
Still Rachel hesitated. “Can you imagine Baron Farnwell’s fury if he learns of my deception? The kind of retribution he might seek?”
Skye interjected. “Lord Hawkhurst is more than able to deal with Edgar Farnwell, if it comes to that. He will protect you—and Daphne as well, I have no doubt whatsoever.”
From the faint way his mouth curved, Hawk seemed amused that Skye was putting so much faith in his abilities, given that her knowledge of his role in his league of Guardians was strictly hearsay. But his tone was quite serious when he replied. “I have engaged a colleague to investigate Farnwell, and tasked the Bow Street Runners with keeping a close eye on him, but a disguise might better ensure your anonymity.”
Skye studied Rachel objectively. The baroness had
aged well enough that she still resembled the miniature. “What did you have in mind?”
“Perhaps she could cut her hair or dye it. Henna can notably transform appearance.”
Rachel bit her lip in indecision. “You said we might not tell Daphne of her parentage at first?”
Skye was able to address that concern. “I believe we first need to sound your daughter out about her feelings toward you and avoid shocking her with the stark truth just yet. My cousin Lady Katharine Wilde lives in London and would be ideal for approaching Daphne. We can trust Kate to make any revelations at the appropriate time.”
“What about … Lord Cornelius?” Rachel asked in a small voice.
“We need to prepare him also,” Skye said, “but I should like to handle that disclosure myself, since I am best acquainted with the particulars. I think it best to invite him to stay at Hawkhurst Castle for a time. My aunt, Lady Isabella Wilde, is residing there to aide Hawkhurst in renovating his home. And I will be there as well. So it should not prove too awkward or pose an impropriety if my uncle were to join us. If you were eventually to rekindle your romance, you could pretend to have met there for the first time and fallen in love.”
Rachel looked torn. “I don’t want the world to know we were once lovers. I want nothing to hurt Daphne.”
“I understand completely,” Skye said with empathy. “We will take small steps and see how it unfolds. But the choice is yours to make.”
The baroness closed her eyes and took a slow breath. “Very well.… I will accompany you to England.”
Skye refrained from cheering, not wanting to add to Rachel’s misgivings, but inwardly her elation soared at having overcome another important hurdle.
The next hour was spent planning their return journey and discussing details of their subterfuge. Even though Skye would likely continue thinking of her as Rachel or Lady Farnwell, they agreed it was best to address her as Mrs. Donnelly or Meg. By the next morning, Rachel had said a tearful farewell to the O’Briens, and they were on the road south to Wexford in Hawkhurst’s coach.
Secrets of Seduction Page 13