by Kelly Boyce
A mixture of excitement and trepidation coursed through his veins. Surely she would say yes—wouldn’t she?
Upon reaching his destination, he still had no answer to that question though her eyes did light up upon his arrival. Unfortunately, the smile she offered was nothing more than polite, bordering on staid. Had he been wrong about her affection for him? Had she come to her senses after their brief tryst at the tea and determined he had been right to pull away from their kiss and indicate they could take their relationship no further?
The major, for his part, was far easier to read given that he practically snarled at Hawk’s sudden arrival, interrupting what he was certain was a rather banal conversation. Though it didn’t appear Major Gibbons shared that opinion. Had the man been in possession of his sword, likely Hawk would have found himself run through. Not the warm welcome he had hoped for, but he’d experienced worse. At least no one was pointing a gun to his head this time.
“Miss Cosgrove.” Hawk reached for her hand and made a show of bending over it and kissing her knuckles. A little over the top, perhaps, but it seemed appropriate to send a message to Major Gibbons that he was out of his element. Madalene was his and he had no intentions of sharing. “It is lovely to see you, as always.”
“My lord,” she answered, slipping her hand out of his and offering a shallow curtsey. It struck him as odd to greet each other in such a way. They seemed so far beyond that. But they were in public, so he did not let it deter him.
Hawk shot a brief glance at the others present. “Ladies, Major Gibbons. Good evening to you all.”
Major Gibbons straightened, pulling at one of the sleeves of his regimental coat. “Lord Hawksmoor. I wasn’t aware you were invited to this event.”
Hawk grinned. “You know, I so rarely get invited anywhere, so I simply show up. And as they always let me in, I can only assume the lack of invitation was merely an oversight.”
“Or perhaps it is that you hold their secrets over their heads and they are too afraid to do otherwise for fear of retaliation.”
Ah. So the major drew first blood. “Well, if they had not had the secrets in the first place, there would be little to fear from me, wouldn’t you agree? And what of you, Major? Do you have any secrets you fear me finding out?”
By now, Hawk noticed several of the ladies who had been vying for Gibbons attention had moved away, distancing themselves from the conversation, or more likely, from Hawk, as it seemed he had that effect on people.
Well, most people. Madalene remained and in the end, she was the only person’s opinion he truly cared about.
“There is nothing about you that strikes fear in my heart, Hawksmoor. You may rest assured on that fact.”
“That’s a little short-sighted, don’t you think?”
Before Major Gibbons could answer, one of the Lindwell ladies—Hawk never could determine which was which despite their vastly different coloring—joined their group, slipping her arm through Madalene’s. “Miss Cosgrove, I was wondering where you had wandered off to. I just had the loveliest conversation with Sir Thornfield about Miss Caldwell’s proposed school. He was much interested in speaking with you about it.”
“With me?” Madalene appeared genuinely surprised at Miss Lindwell’s claim though Hawk recognized it for the ploy it was. Miss Lindwell had also been the one to save Madalene from being sent out the servants’ quarters at their ball, sending her off with Major Gibbons instead. Now, she had come to her rescue once again, though this time he suspected it was from him as if his reputation might reach out and taint her.
Perhaps it was for the best. Gibbons may be more amenable to tell the truth without Madalene’s innocent ears hearing the details of Phillip’s madness. Little did the man know that Madalene had already had a front row seat to his brother’s special brand of malevolence. And Hawk was not going to be the one to tell him.
“Who better to inform Sir Thornfield, Miss Cosgrove,” Gibbons said, his voice smooth and irritating. “After all, have you not decided to accept the position of headmistress?”
Shock hit Hawk like a punch to the stomach. Had she? When? And why hadn’t she told him? He struggled to keep his expression neutral. He would deal with this issue later, after she accepted his proposal. She could hardly be viscountess and headmistress at the same time, after all.
“I hope I might see you later on,” Hawk said. He would find her once the conversation concluded and fill her in on what he learned from Gibbons. Then he would propose and she would accept. She had to accept. Keeping her under his wing was the best chance he had of keeping her safe. Surely she would see the sense in this.
“As do I,” Major Gibbons chimed in and Hawk once again resisted the urge to plant a his fist into the major’s horribly ordinary face.
Hawk waited for Miss Lindwell to lead Madalene away before turning back to Gibbons. “Major, there is a particular topic I would like to discuss with you but I do not care to have it in the middle of a crowded room. Perhaps we could retire to the library where we might converse in private.”
Gibbons stared at him, his expression giving little away other than suspicion. “I can’t imagine anything we have to discuss.”
“Then come to the library and allow me to enlighten you.” Hawk turned and headed back toward the entrance of the ballroom. He had been to Dunhill’s only once before many years ago, but the layout of the townhouse was like many others. He suspected if he walked farther down the hallway he would come upon the library and as it turned out, he was correct. He was also correct in his assumption that Major Gibbons would follow without further prompting.
Curiosity was a difficult mistress to ignore.
Hawk entered the library and raided Mr. Dunhill’s rather impressive brandy collection, pouring a drink for himself and Major Gibbons before settling into a chair by the fireplace where a small fire burned in the hearth. A moment later, Gibbons arrived and Hawk motioned toward the drink he left sitting on the bar.
“Join me, Major.”
Gibbons hesitated a moment, then took the drink though refused to join him by the fire. It hardly mattered. “What is it you feel we need to discuss, Hawksmoor? I suggest you keep it brief as I can think of far more pleasing ways to spend my evening than conversing with you.”
The implication of his words weighed heavy in the air. He planned on continuing his campaign to woo Madalene. Perhaps Hawk should tell him he was wasting his time, but something about the man’s sureness of his pursuit created a thin fissure in Hawk’s own confidence. He had shared but two kisses with Madalene. And while both kisses had been filled with passion, her demeanor this evening gave him pause. Had it only been he who had felt the life-altering desire to go farther, to entwine their bodies, their hearts, their lives? Or had she, upon reflection, determined his presence in her life only conjured up repulsive memories of his brother?
What if he repulsed her?
He shook the notion free. No. They were friends. More than friends. When he professed his need for her, she had not turned away or turned him down. Then again, she hadn’t parroted the same feelings back to him either. Nor had she argued with him when he put an end to their kiss and suggested they could take it no further.
Bloody hell. Did the major actually stand a chance at turning Madalene’s head and her heart? Would she prefer to be with a man who had no connection to the incident at Raven Manor? A sick feeling coiled inside of him.
He gave Gibbons a cursory glance where the major leaned against the mahogany bar, a study in irritation. Hawk conceded he was a relatively handsome man in an ordinary sort of way and gave off an air of competency. And yes, he cut a fine figure in his uniform. Hawk was not blind to the fact many women were wooed by such things, but was Madalene?
He waved off his doubts. It didn’t matter. He would propose to her tonight and she would accept. How could she not? He was a viscount after all, and who would not want to become a viscountess? A future countess? She would never have to worry about her fu
ture ever again. And he would not have to worry about her coming to harm. She would be safe with him. He would be certain to stress that point to her.
“Tell me what you know of my brother,” Hawk said, skipping past the pleasantries. It seemed redundant, in his estimation, given neither of them felt even remotely pleasant toward the other.
“I’m not certain what you mean.” Gibbons took a slow draw of his drink, watching Hawk over the rim of the glass.
Hawk let out a sigh and unfolded himself from the comfort of the chair to stand before the fire. “Come now, Major. Let us not play these games, shall we? The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner we can both go about our business and be done with each other. A moment, I’m certain, we both look forward to with equal fervor. I am aware you believe my brother was a disturbed individual. As it happens, this fact may be the one and only thing we have in common.”
“Aside from Miss Cosgrove.”
Hawk took a sip of his brandy, wishing the drink held the ability to burn away his irritation with the major as easily as it burned the surface of his throat. It did not. “Your interest in Miss Cosgrove is a lost battle you would do well to retreat from. As a military man, I would think you’d be able to realize such.”
The major swept Hawk’s set down away with a wave of his hand. “I realize no such thing. It is you who holds the unfounded delusion that she would countenance an association with you if it were up to her. You embarrass her with your unwanted attentions and assumption that the two of you hold more of an acquaintance than former employer and servant.”
The niggling doubt of Madalene’s interest took another hit, but he shoved it aside. “Miss Cosgrove and I are indeed friends. That you cannot see as much only further strengthens my earlier claim of your blindness to the situation. But I did not come here to discuss Miss Cosgrove.”
Major Gibbons stepped away from the bar bringing his drink with him, though beyond that first sip he did not seem inclined to further imbibe. Odd. Mr. Dunhill had extremely good taste in his brandy.
“Has it not occurred to you she is merely being polite? She is a sweet natured innocent, not a plaything for the upper classes.”
“A plaything?” The major’s words cut into Hawk, painting his likeness a little too similar to that of his brother’s. “I have treated Miss Cosgrove with nothing more than the utmost propriety.”
Save for insisting they refer to each other by their given names. Or looking for any opportunity to spend time alone with her. To touch her. And then there was that first kiss. And the second one…
“Regardless, when others see your attention to her, it calls into question her reputation, for what other reason would a viscount have for acting besotted with a former servant than to make her his plaything? It is not as if you plan to make her your viscountess. Imagine the scandal of that.” Gibbons laughed as if the suggestion Hawk and Madalene might marry was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. It cut far too close to the bone for his liking.
“And what would it matter if I did make her my viscountess? I’m certain the ton would raise their collective eyebrows at any lady I deemed to marry, given my reputation. So why not Miss Cosgrove?”
Gibbons stopped his slow pace about the room and stared at Hawk, amusement written over his face. “Is that your intention? Truly?”
The man laughed again. This time much longer and harder than before. Hawk fisted his hand at his side and took a deep breath to keep from vaulting across the room and kicking the man in such a way it would ruin any hope he had of propagating an heir.
“I’m so pleased to see the idea amuses you, Major, but tell me—what option do you think would appeal to a lady more? Marrying a military man with no hope of moving beyond where he is now? Or becoming the future Countess of Ravenwood?”
Hawk had so much more to offer Madalene than this smug bastard. Surely she would see that. Wouldn’t she? Doubt continued to creep in, soiling his hope with its dirty feet. He took another swallow of brandy.
“I am certain Miss Cosgrove would be more interested in marrying a man of similar background as she. What kind of life would she have, married to the likes of you? What do you have to offer her? A brother with a history of madness and a family that despises you and has all but disowned you. Not to mention the fact that your reputation makes you a pariah and will make her one as well, should she become your wife. I would hardly call that a future one would willingly embrace. Would you?”
The fire in the hearth crackled and a log shifted, sending sparks snapping in the air behind him. Hawk hated how the major’s words pummeled him, each one finding his most vulnerable spots, the ones where his doubts hid. He wished to retaliate, but what ammunition did he have? That he loved her? Would that be enough to overcome all the rest? Could he make her happy? Or would being married to him only cause her a lifetime of grief?
The answer to that question tormented him with its elusiveness. He pulled his attention away from it and focused on something else Gibbons had said.
Your mad brother.
“What makes you think my brother was mad?”
Gibbons shrugged. An irksome gesture. In truth, everything about the man annoyed him and he could not fathom what it was that Madalene found even remotely charming about him. Between his smugness and his churlish sister who padded around after him like a dreary shadow, he could find absolutely nothing that would appeal.
“Your brother hid it well, for the most part, I will give him that, but there were some of us who noticed his rather…odd…preferences.”
“Those preferences being?” Hawk’s heart pounded in his chest as he awaited Gibbons’ answer.
“Your brother liked a challenge, shall we say. He made a contest out of it, being the betting man he was. He would choose someone to conquer, for the sheer thrill of seeing if he could do so and get away with it, and invite others to join in his game.”
“And no one he approached with this wickedness thought to stop him?”
“Your brother picked his audience well. Choosing others with the same tastes as he. As for who he set his sights on, he was careful, often choosing those of little consequence.”
Those of little consequence. The phrase burned through Hawk’s blood like venom. Phillip had not thought Madalene of little consequence. In fact, his brother had been well aware of her consequence to Hawk. That was why he had chosen her. In that respect, Gibbons was mistaken, but Hawk held his tongue. He would not endanger Madalene’s reputation for the sake of proving this arrogant bastard wrong.
“Often, but not always? Did he stray from this course then?”
Phillip’s voice whispered in the back of Hawk’s mind. “Sometimes a lady is so fetching, the challenge so delectable, one cannot help themselves.”
Major Gibbons leaned against the back of one of the chairs that flanked the fireplace. When he spoke, he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as if sharing a secret Hawk knew nothing about.
“There was a rumor that your brother had decided to up the ante of his little conquests and try for a bigger prize—the wife of a future duke, I heard.”
Lady Rothbury. Hawk fought to keep his expression neutral. “And was he successful in this endeavor?”
Another shrug. It was as if the man had a tick of some sort. “I have heard that a certain duchess took a bit of a shine to the late viscount. Thought him quite charming. Of course, in the end, the poor lady wound up dead. Drowned, I believe they said. Odd, don’t you think, for a lady to get it into her head that she needed to take a swim in the middle of the night?”
“You refer to Lady Rothbury,” Hawk said.
Yet another shrug. Hawk’s ire rose as Major Gibbons continued. “If memory serves, your brother left for Italy only a few days after her death, did he not?”
Hawk did his best to regulate his breathing, to appear unaffected by Gibbons’ claims that so closely echoed the story Phillip had admitted to him years earlier. The horror of which still haunted him.
Gibbons gave him a look that stated he thought Hawk a shortsighted imbecile. Hawk gritted his teeth. The major was a scant few seconds away from being delivered a facer of epic proportions.
“Turn in a Peer of the Realm with nothing to substantiate my claims? That would have been a quick way to terminate my burgeoning career. No, I’m afraid I am far more astute than you give me credit for. Instead, I went to the aggrieved widower, Lord Rothbury. As it turns out, the future duke had no wish for my information to reach beyond his own ears. Likely, he did not care to have the world know he’d been cuckolded to such a humiliating degree and offered to speak to the Prime Minister on my behalf in exchange for keeping silent on my suspicions.”
“Yet you break it now.”
Gibbons smiled, a cold, knowing smile that chilled the marrow of Hawk’s bones. The major might be a supercilious prick, but he wasn’t an idiot. “I don’t think I am telling you anything that you don’t already know, am I?”
Hawk didn’t answer. What was there to say? “How is it you know so much about my brother?”
Gibbons took a slow draw on his drink, drawing out the moment on purpose. “You are not the only purveyor of information in this city, my lord. The more I know of those in your position, the more I am able to use it to my benefit. When one is not born with a title attached to their name, their options are limited. I do not care much for limits and I am not above using what information I have to surpass them.”
“Do you know who my brother associated with in these sick pursuits?”
“I did not involve myself in such. My association with your brother was that of a passing acquaintance and nothing more. The things I learned were gleaned from my observations, from droplets of conversation overheard. I did not involve myself with your brother to any deep level. As I have said—I believe he was a sick man.”