by Amelia Grey
“So money was the reason you decided to send those letters to the young ladies?”
“Not the money. The winning. But there were several things that led to our downfall concerning that event.”
“Share a few of them with me.”
Share?
That wasn’t a word he was used to hearing, and he certainly wasn’t used to doing it. Furthermore, he’d never talked about that time almost ten years ago with anyone other than the other two men involved, Rath and Griffin, until Miss Quick. How had she managed to do so effortlessly what no one else had done?
Hawk took a sip of the wine and watched the candlelight play on her face. She looked even more beautiful than when he’d first entered the room. She looked comfortable, too, and that was probably the reason he was opening up to her and even discussing the wager.
Without further thought about why, he said, “The thing that started it all was a book that had just been published titled A Proper Gentleman’s Guide to Wooing the Perfect Lady.”
Her brow creased. “I don’t believe I’ve read it.”
“There’s no reason you should, and I wish I had never heard of it,” he complained.
“How did such a book influence you?”
“For the worse, as you well know. Rath, Griffin, and I would enjoy reading a page or two of it and then have a good laugh at the useless and sometimes absurd things the man wrote, including Never send a young lady a secret admirer letter.”
“Oh.”
“Yes,” he answered dryly. “We were of an age and mind-set that, if we were told not to do something, that was the very first thing we wanted to do. And since we’d come to the bottom of a brandy bottle that particular evening, sending notes under the signature of A Secret Admirer seemed the suitable thing to do.”
“How did you decide who should receive a letter?”
“That was easy. There were twelve young ladies making their debut that year. We decided those were the ones to receive our missive. We each took four different names and sent the letters asking them to meet us. At different locations, of course. We didn’t know if any of them would come but agreed whoever had the most ladies show at the end of the evening would win the wager.”
“But all three of you had all four of the ladies come for the secret meeting?”
“Yes.”
“And you were found out one evening after you were overheard gloating about it.”
He laughed at her rapid retort as he refilled his wineglass and added a splash to her glass as well. “Not gloating, Miss Quick, merely discussing it. But there were other reasons we made such an error. We were young, foolish, and had a great desire to win whatever bet we made.” Hawk picked up his wine and leaned back in his chair. “Not a one of us laid a hand on any of the young ladies.”
“But all of them were touched by the scandal of trying to meet an unknown man in secret.”
“Yes.” He lifted his glass to her in a toast. “I have already conceded it was improper for us to send the letters, to wager on them, and for the young ladies to respond to them. But it’s egregious to me that Society would attempt to ruin a young lady’s reputation over a secret admirer that never existed.”
“Aside from the embarrassment it must have caused them, I can see where some fathers might think that if their daughter was willing to meet a secret admirer, she could be tempted to meet any gentleman in secret. A few could have even wondered if she’d actually done it before. It could have caused others to second-guess the young lady’s virtue. I could go on with possibilities if you like?”
“No,” he said dryly. “You mentioned enough. And all you said is probably true, but there seemed to be no lasting effects on any of them. When this rumor of possible revenge against us started last year, we checked on all the young ladies and from what we were able to find out, they are living quite happily now, despite their near ruination because of the letter.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“It was for us, too,” he said and enjoyed a sip of the wine. “Since we are on the subject of rumors and our past, is it true that you took a vow to never marry?”
She put her glass down. “Yes.”
“Because you didn’t want to marry Viscount Denningcourt.”
It was slow in coming but she finally said, “Yes.”
“But you didn’t go into a convent. It seems I remember hearing you had.”
Suddenly her eyes glowed with a genuine humor that he found so attractive, his lower body responded to the pull. Once again, he wanted to reach over and kiss her.
“That would have probably been fitting, Your Grace, but I wouldn’t make a good nun and my uncle knew that. I am stubborn, not righteous. Even if I’d wanted to go to a nunnery and my uncle had agreed, I have no doubt the sisters would have sent me back to Switchingham before the end of the first day. I don’t have the temperament to be submissive, and I believe that is a requirement for entering.”
Hawk would agree to that. And that strength was one of the things that held his attention on her. He would much rather talk to a young lady with her honest approach to a conversation than the young ladies who were afraid to open their mouths and speak around him for fear they would say something to make him bored or, worse, angry.
Hawk studied her again as she picked up her glass and sipped her wine while staring at him. “So you made a vow to never marry. But did you make a vow of chastity as well?”
Though her gazed stayed intensely on his, he knew his question surprised her.
“Are they not one and the same, Your Grace?”
“I don’t know, Miss Quick. It was your vow. You tell me.”
Her hand remained steady and her eyes clear, yet he felt her tension increase. Her silence lengthened and he felt sure he knew why. She had not settled in her mind the answer to his question.
“Sorry to interrupt your dinner, Miss Quick.”
The housekeeper stood at the doorway, worrying the hem of her apron in her hands. Hawk thought she must have been listening at the door and decided to step in and help her mistress.
“You’re not, Mrs. Huddleston,” Miss Quick said. “What do you need?”
“There’s a young beggar at the back door looking for a piece of bread to eat.”
“You know you don’t have to ask me what to do if someone is hungry. Give him more than he wants.”
“Oh, yes, miss, I know. I told him to wait and I’d get him some, but I think you need to come see him, too. He doesn’t look well to me, and I thought you’d want to know.”
Hawk knew what the weather was like outside. “Well or not, no one should be out on a night like this.”
“I agree,” Miss Quick said. “We’ll bring him inside, of course.” She looked at the housekeeper. “Is he alone?”
“Appears to be. I asked him to step into the kitchen and warm himself, but he refused. Said he only wanted some bread and that he’d wait by the door for it. I came directly to tell you.”
“I’m glad you did. Excuse me, Your Grace,” she said, laying her napkin on the table. “I must attend to this.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Hawk followed Miss Quick down the long, wide corridor and into the kitchen. Three female servants he hadn’t seen before were standing huddled near a table that held the remains from their supper. Mrs. Huddleston opened the back door and a blast of chilling air swept inside with a cold swoosh of wind. Hawk saw a boy of about twelve or thirteen looking pale as a ghost, shivering, and wet head-to-toe from the icy rain.
“Merciful heavens!” Miss Quick said earnestly and held out her hand to the lad. “Come inside at once.”
But the beggar had already caught sight of Hawk, and for some reason that struck fear in him. He started to wobble on his feet. His eyes rounded and he jerked back as if he’d been struck. A split second later he turned and staggered away.
“No! Wait,” Miss Quick called. “Don’t go. We want to help you!”
Hawk knew the youngste
r would freeze to death if he tried to stay outside. He looked at Miss Quick. “I’ll go find him and bring him back. You get him some dry clothes and something warm to drink and have it ready for when I return.”
There was no time for Hawk to get his cloak. If he lost sight of the boy he might not locate him again with the night so dark. Hawk immediately rushed out in the direction the lad had vanished.
Icy sharp crystals slashed across Hawk’s face and stung his eyes. Wet, blustery gusts of wind tore at his clothing, plastering it against his body as soon as he left the sanctuary of the roofed portico and started down the steps.
He lifted the collar of his coat against the frigid rain and trudged forward against the onslaught of sleet. Hawk’s boots slid on the rapidly freezing ground, making it difficult for him to keep his balance. It was dark as Hades and Hawk almost lost sight of the rascal because of the stinging ice pellets hitting his eyes. He couldn’t hear anything but the wind whipping around his ears.
“Damnation,” he muttered to himself as his foot slipped on a frozen patch of earth again and he almost went down.
In the distance through the hazy air and stinging ice, he could barely see the movement of the boy. It looked as if he were half running and half stumbling.
Hawk picked up his pace, but it wasn’t easy on the slippery ground. The youngster was fast, but Hawk was determined not to lose sight of him and let him get away. When Hawk was close enough, he reached out and grabbed the back of lad’s coat. He grunted and kept pushing forward against the howling wind and ice. Suddenly all Hawk was holding was a coat. The imp had unbuttoned it so that it would be pulled off his arms.
Giving the coat a frustrated toss, Hawk exhaled sharply and kept running. This wasn’t the first time the boy had bolted at the sight of a man. The imp was obviously used to being chased. He darted from side to side, trying to make it harder for Hawk to catch him. But Hawk wouldn’t be fooled again. Waiting until he got closer the second time, Hawk grabbed the back of his shirt with one hand and clamped his other hand on the boy’s shoulder and finally stopped him.
The boy swung around with both his fists flying in all directions. He grunted and hoarsely yelled, “Get away from me, ye cur! I didn’t steal anything from ye fancy home.”
“Stop fighting me,” Hawk said to the lad, trying to catch his flailing arms and stop his panicked thrashing.
“Let me be, damn ye black soul! I didn’t do anything to ye! Ye blackguard!”
From the boy’s crude language, Hawk knew he wasn’t a farmer’s child who’d lost his way. But how could a street urchin find himself so far away from civilization?
“Calm down,” Hawk grumbled while cold, hard crystals continued to hit his face. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m trying to save your life.”
It must have taken the last of the ragamuffin’s strength to strike out at Hawk. All of a sudden the youngster’s body stilled. His eyes widened and rolled back in his head. He went limp and dropped like a sack of grain to the ground in a heap at Hawk’s feet.
“Hellfire,” Hawk muttered.
The sleet was brutal and unrelenting. He reached down and scooped the boy up in his arms. Over the whipping wind, a cracking noise sounded eerily in the quietness when he pulled the boy up to his chest. His clothing had already started to freeze, and no doubt his frail body had, too.
It crossed Hawk’s mind that it might already be too late to save the lost lad.
Chapter 4
A proper gentleman should never tempt a lady to do anything that might put a whisper of question to her good name.
A PROPER GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO WOOING THE PERFECT LADY
SIR VINCENT TYBALT VALENTINE
Apprehension assailed her.
Loretta shivered and watched the gray darkness swallow the duke. There had been a few times in her life that she’d felt fear so raw and intense that had it collected in her chest and throat, constricting her breathing.
And yet there was only one other time she could remember ever feeling such a sense of panic for someone’s life, and that was for her mother when she’d had pain in her stomach and nothing she was given could make it go away.
Loretta closed her eyes against the heartache of her mother’s suffering and loss of her life. It was long ago. Loretta was but a young girl of seven, yet she could remember it as if it had just been yesterday. She didn’t like recalling that time when she was so easily frightened by the perils of life. There had been other times when she’d been fearful. When she’d defied her uncle’s order to marry the viscount or take a vow that would forever change her life. But that had been a different kind of dread than what she felt now.
No one’s safety had been in question.
Now there was.
Would the duke be able to keep up with the boy in the freezing storm? Did he have a family out there who needed help, too? Swirling around to the servants behind her, Loretta swept all that from her mind and said, “The duke is right. The boy can’t stay in those wet clothes. Mrs. Huddleston, go to Paxton’s room and bring a nightshirt and stockings. We’ll find trousers to fit him later. Hazel, start a fire in Arnold’s room. We’ll put him in there to change. Nollie, prepare a warming pan to put at his feet. Bitsy, you go for extra blankets and start warming them so we can wrap him in them as soon as they return.”
None of the four women moved. They all looked as shocked as she felt, or perhaps they just weren’t as sure as she was that the duke would return with the boy in tow.
“Don’t stand there staring at me,” she said to the stricken women. “Go now.”
Loretta whirled back to the open doorway. Watching the darkness was what she was going to do. She hugged her arms to her chest and stepped out. She thought the roof over the portico would keep her dry, but the howling wind immediately whipped at her hair and blew freezing rain into her face, causing her to shiver. The sheer sleeves of her velvet gown did nothing to help shield her from the weather, but she had to watch for them. It was the only thing she could do.
Her eyes searched the darkness, looking for any sign of the two. The only movement in the blustery storm was the barren branches of the surrounding trees. Seconds turned to minutes. Loretta’s stomach started to quiver and her whole body shook, but she continued her watch.
If the duke didn’t find the lad soon, they’d both catch a chill. The boy could already have one. He’d looked so deathly pale that it had frightened Loretta.
Where were they? Had the duke lost track of the youngster? Loretta’s cold dress began to feel damp against her skin. Her nose, cheeks, and toes started to feel numb, but still she waited. She knew staying outside wasn’t helping the duke find the boy, but she was determined that, if they could withstand the cold, so could she.
At last she saw movement. The duke walked out of the darkness toward her. He was carrying the lad. She stepped back inside and opened the door wider so they could enter without delay.
“What happened to him?” Loretta asked, closing the door behind them.
“He collapsed.”
“Follow me,” she said, leading the way out of the kitchen, down the wide corridor, and around a corner that led to Arnold’s room. Hazel and Nollie were kneeling at the fireplace. Loretta flung back the covers on Arnold’s bed and said, “Lay him down here. We must get his clothing off.”
The duke laid him on the bed and turned to her. “Perhaps you should leave the room, Miss Quick. I can handle this.”
Loretta stared down at the still, innocent-looking face. All color had drained from his lips and cheeks. His dark hair was wet and littered with fine crystals of ice. Her heart went out to the nameless boy.
She turned to the duke and said, “No. I want to help him.”
“You are a lady.”
“You are a duke,” she countered.
“He will probably feel more comfortable when he wakes knowing that it was a man who undressed him and not a lady.”
“Good heavens,” she admonished, brushing aside
his concern. “He’s just a child. He won’t care who undressed him. There’s simply no need for you to worry about my sensibilities at a time like this. He needs help. I’ll start with his shoes and you take off his other clothing, before it saturates the bedcovers.”
With that she bent over the lad’s feet and started untying his shoes. The wet, frozen laces had been knotted several times. She worked at the small, tight knots in the dim light, but they wouldn’t budge. She tried just pulling the high-top boot off, but without undoing the laces, that wasn’t going to work, either.
“Oh, gooseberries,” she exclaimed under her breath and jerked her hands to her hips in frustration. “How could such a thin waif tie his strings so tight?”
The duke touched her shoulder, and she glanced up at him in surprise.
“Allow me to help you, Miss Quick.” He reached down and pulled a small pearl-handled dagger from inside his boot and within seconds cut the laces all the way up the boot.
“Do you always have—”
“Yes,” he answered before she finished her question.
“Thank you,” she said and went back to her task.
Holes had been worn in the soles of the cheaply made boots, and as she tugged off the first one she realized that they were really too small for him. She wouldn’t be surprised to find that his heels and toes had blisters on them. His stockings were in no better shape. Dirty, holey, and much too small. His trousers were worn at the knees, too short and frayed at the hem. Loretta had never been very good with a needle and she’d found out that her maid wasn’t, either, but she would see to it that he had better clothing and coverings for his feet before he left her house.
Once the boots and stockings were removed, she lifted his cold feet and wrapped a blanket around them until the duke was ready to remove his trousers. When she looked back toward the lad, his shirt was off. His face was still. Not a twitch or flutter of his eyelids. His chest was rail-thin and a bluish white.
Loretta could have counted every rib if she’d had the courage to keep looking at him. Her throat closed and her heart went out to this youngster who’d been reduced to begging for food. It didn’t seem right. Suddenly he didn’t feel like a stranger, but a part of her household, and now her responsibility.