by Kelly Boyce
Hawk could not blame Gibbons for his assumptions on that account. Much as he loathed the man, how could he fault his inaction when Hawk, too, had refrained from going to the authorities, having no tangible proof other than hearsay his brother could have easily refuted, with his parents’ backing.
“Now, if you will excuse me, Lord Hawksmoor. I find this conversation has come to a conclusion and I have nothing left to offer you but the simple admission that I have no intention of dropping my interest in Miss Cosgrove. In truth, I do not think she wishes me to, and I know I certainly do not. It is past time I found myself a proper wife and I find her to be a most suitable candidate.”
“How romantic,” Hawk muttered under his breath, but if Gibbons heard him, he gave no indication.
“Good day, Hawksmoor.” Gibbons gave him a brief, dismissive nod and set his glass onto the nearest table before quitting the room, closing the door behind him.
Hawk raised his arm and made to hurl his own glass against the closed door but stopped before the snifter left his hand. It would not do to bring a hoard of guests rushing to the library to discover him in a pique of anger. No, he must find Madalene, preferably before Gibbons reached her.
Find her and convince her to marry him.
Then he could quit this godforsaken city and find somewhere secluded for her to hide away while he set about finding Lord T and putting an end to this madness once and for all.
Chapter Eighteen
“There you are.”
Madalene turned at the sound of Hawk’s voice coming up from behind her, something about his expression taking her aback. He seemed…what? Determined? Upset? “Is something wrong, my lord?”
“I must speak with you.” With barely a glance, he grabbed a discarded shawl from the back of a chair and pushed it at her, then placed his hands on her shoulders to turn her about and steer her toward the doors that led to the small, snow-filled garden at the side of the house.
“What are you doing? People will—”
“No one is looking. They are all involved in their own foolish lives. And this is of utmost importance.” He opened the door only wide enough for them to slip through. “I’m certain once you hear what I have to say, you will not regret coming with me.”
The bitterness and anger in his voice surprised her and she allowed him to propel her through the narrow opening in the door. Above them, the stars sparkled and shined, causing the snow on the ground to glisten with light. But the beauty was lost on Madalene, but the stone floor was cold beneath her slippered feet.
“What is the matter with you?” She pulled the warm shawl he’d given her around her shoulders to ward off the chilly night air.
“I spoke with Major Gibbons,” he said, though the process did not appear to be one he had enjoyed.
“And?”
“And he was aware of Phillip’s behavior, that he had heard whispers of his sick contests. Yet instead of going to the authorities with his suppositions, he went to Lord Rothbury instead.”
“Lord Rothbury? Why?”
“Because Major Gibbons believed Phillip to be responsible for the death of Lady Rothbury and he used this information to leverage a favor from her husband who did not care to have his wife’s reputation sullied upon her death nor have society know that he had been cuckolded.”
Madalene gasped and grabbed the edge of her shawl tightly in her fist. “Did he have proof of your brother’s involvement?”
“What?” Hawk shot her a look she could only read as disappointment, but what else was she to ask? “No. He simply put two and two together and figured it out. Much as I had to some degree, before Phillip filled me in on sick details.”
“You knew?” Her mind whirled with the newfound information. How awful a thing! A shudder echoed down her spine. Would Phillip have killed her if Hawk had not saved her when he had?
“Yes. He had said something that led me to believe what he had done. He did not come straight out and confess, but he said enough to let me know her death had not been an accident and that Lord T assisted him in the cover up afterward to make it appear an accident.”
The punch she drank earlier curdled in her stomach. “And you did not tell anyone?”
“What? Yes, of course I did. I went to my parents and begged them to stop his madness, but they refused. Instead they told him and he burst into my room and—” He stopped and Madalene didn’t press. She remembered a time shortly before Phillip had attacked her that Hawk made himself scarce, staying within the confines of his room. A heavy tension had filled the house and there were whispers below stairs of a physical altercation between the brothers.
“But you took the matter no farther than your parents?”
“No, but—”
“But what? Are you not accusing Major Gibbons of doing exactly what you had done?”
“I did not go to Lord Rothbury and use my suspicions to further my own career!”
“You do not have need of a career, you are a Peer of the Realm. Major Gibbons does not have that luxury and must make his own way in the world. Perhaps he took the information to Lord Rothbury as it would be he who had the most to suffer should Major Gibbons make his suspicions public?”
Hawk took a step away from her; betrayal written over each one of his sharply defined features. “So you defend his actions then?”
“I defend you both. You both took the information you had and brought it to the people you thought needed it most.” Madalene softened her voice. “You both did the same thing, did you not?”
Hawk sputtered. “It is not the same thing!”
“Hush! Keep your voice down.” Madalene glanced toward the door, a gauzy window dressing the only thing keeping them hidden from the other guests. “I am simply saying that neither of you had actual proof. There was little you could do beyond that. You both did what you could.”
“Did we?” And there it was, the guilt she had seen in his eyes since his memory had returned. The same guilt she had seen when he’d rescued her from his brother’s clutches the night he attacked her.
“If there was more you could have done, I’m certain you would have.”
Hawk’s shoulders slumped and he dragged a hand through his dark hair. “I wish I could believe you. Had I alerted the authorities, perhaps Phillip would have been locked away in Bedlam or…somewhere. Somewhere where he would not have had access to you. If I had done more, had him removed from Raven Manor, he would not have had the opportunity to retaliate and use you to punish me.”
Madalene stepped closer and placed a hand upon Hawk’s chest, feeling the uneven rise and fall as anger and remorse disrupted his breathing. “You cannot change what was done. And I am certain whatever threat your brother intimated that day is no longer a factor. It has been over five years. If this Lord T meant to take up the challenge, surely he would have done so by now.”
Something indefinable crossed Hawk’s face and he opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again.
“What is it?”
He shook his head and covered her hand, warming the skin beneath the thin covering of her glove. “My parents sent you away. For the next five years, you and your father moved about the underbelly of London, where Lord T could not find you.”
Her heartbeat accelerated. “What do you mean?”
Hawk spoke as if he knew this for sure. But how could he? He did not know who this Lord T was, or if he had ever truly existed. A part of her had always wondered if Phillip had made him up, a perfect scapegoat with whom to throw the guilt upon if his actions ever came to rest at his doorstep.
Hawk closed his eyes and the confession whispered from him. “Because he sent me letters. Every three months one would arrive, letting me know his search continued. That he had taken up the challenge and had every intention of seeing it through to its conclusion.”
The blood in her veins turned to ice, frozen there by the sudden fear that filled her. “He did what? Why did you never tell me?”
His grip on her hand tightened. “I feared contacting you would lead him to where you were. I could not risk it. I’ve spent the last five years trying to hunt him down, but the man is like a shadow, slipping in and out and disappearing whenever I think I am drawing close.”
She couldn’t breathe and her head buzzed. Hawk had tried to protect her, to find the man who threatened her life. Who planned to end her life in such a way she couldn’t even allow the thought to enter her head. She should be grateful, but she wasn’t. She was angry. He’d had no right to let her live in the dark, a threat hiding around each corner she turned without her ever knowing it. Had she, she could have taken precautions. What, she didn’t know, but he’d had no right to keep such information from her!
And now she had returned to London, been seen in society. Why she might as well have painted a target on herself and waved a flag in the air! Did this Lord T know she was here? Was he watching her now, at this party, biding his time before he struck?
She took a deep breath, then another, fighting back the fear. Her hand had fisted into the lapel of Hawk’s coat. She loosened her grip and forced her mind to return to rational thought. “I am leaving London before week’s end.”
“Leaving?”
“Yes. I came here to find my replacement. I have accomplished this task and now I shall return with her and make arrangements to begin my new life.”
“New life? Then it’s true? You have decided to take the position of headmistress?”
She nodded, not that it mattered now. In light of what Hawk had revealed, she would now have to decline. Too many people knew of her plans. She would be too easy to find and she would not risk the lives of any of the schoolgirls, should Lord T come for her there.
“I will have to go into hiding. Obviously. Change my name even.” Would she ever be able to see Father again? Or would that put him at risk? Tears pricked the corner of her eyes.
“You do not need to go to such lengths.”
She let out a sharp laugh that echoed bitter in her ears. “What other choice do I have?”
“You could marry me.”
Madalene blinked, certain she had heard him wrong. Marry him? Whatever was he about? Yes, they had shared a few kisses—soul-scorching kisses that had yet to fade from her memory, and yes, she loved him. But she would not have him marry her out of a misplaced sense of duty. Besides, did he not already say he did not contact her for fear of leading Lord T to her doorstep?
“You are not obligated to—”
“I am,” he stated plainly. “I should have done more to keep you safe from my brother. He attacked you because of your friendship with me. It is my fault you are tied into this madness and I cannot in good conscience stand by and leave you unprotected. By marrying me, you will be a future countess. Untouchable.”
“The way Lady Rothbury was?”
He looked as if she had slapped him and his hand fell away from hers. She took a step back, needing the distance between them to grow so she might think more clearly. “It is not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it? She was married to a future duke, yet she could not escape your brother’s madness.”
“Lord Rothbury knew nothing of my brother’s madness or surely she would not have engaged in an affair with him. And likely she knew nothing of Lord T. But I do and I can protect you.”
Her heart broke. Under different circumstances, Madalene would have jumped at the chance to have him propose. How often had she dreamed of such a thing? To spend her life with him. To live each day wrapped in his warmth and kindness and keen observations. To pass each night enveloped in his arms. But that was not what he was proposing, was it? He said nothing of love, only responsibility. Something, in his estimation, he had failed at and now must make right. Hardly the recipe for a happy and fulfilling life, and in the end, that is all that she wanted. To be happy. To put the darkness of her past behind her and start anew.
“I am not yours to protect.”
“Yes,” he insisted with much force. “You are.”
She shook her head and tightened the shawl around her shoulders. The damp February air had seeped through the thin material and into her heart. How she hated that this is what it came to, that this would be how it ended. How she wished she could tell him there was nothing she wanted more than to marry him, but she could not. He did not truly want to marry her; he simply wanted to assuage his own guilt. Right an imagined wrong. And one day, when the guilt faded, or Lord T was captured, he would look upon her and wish he had chosen otherwise, picked a lady more befitting his station, or perhaps return to the life he had built for himself as The Hawk.
She wanted no part in making his life something other than what it should be. Nor did she wish to spend her life indebted to him.
“I am sorry, but I cannot—I will not—marry you, my lord.” She did not say his name. She needed to separate her feelings from the reality of the situation. She erect a barrier between her heart and the man who had stolen it away. She needed to relegate him to a memory once more.
She turned away, unable to tolerate the disbelief in his eyes. He had thought she would say yes. What lady wouldn’t, after all? But she was not a lady, she was a servant, and soon she would be but a distant memory. Her destiny, her life, was in her own hands and not his. She was not his responsibility.
It was time for her to go.
She stepped inside the ballroom once again, letting the warmth created by the crush of bodies wash over her, but before she could slip the shawl from her shoulders and return it to the chair, hands grabbed her from behind and spun her around.
Then a mouth was upon hers. His mouth. Hot and insistent and for the most fleeting of seconds she allowed it to captivate her, to rob her of sense and time and place. Until the first gasp hit her from the side, and then another from behind. By the time she had wrenched her mouth from Hawk’s, the entire room had turned to witness their kiss, the hum of what had happened moving its way through the crowd like an undulating wave.
Madalene stood frozen for several heartbeats, her hand over her mouth as the fiery burn of a roomful of stares filled with shock and disgust, blistered her skin. How could he have done this to her?
Her hand struck out. The impact of her palm hitting his cheek seared her skin and reverberated up her arm. She used his sudden shock to push past him before he could stop her. She grasped her skirt, twisting the material in her hands as she ran from the room, elbowing her way through the people whose stares had turned to whispers and exclamations at what they had just witnessed, each one thrashing against her with the force of a thousand blows.
Still, she kept running.
The cold air hit her hard, robbing her of breath. After a moment, her lungs ached and her slippered feet turned to blocks of ice, skidding on the cobblestones. If she could run fast enough, or far enough, she could outrun the ruination Hawk had just brought upon her, but with each passing moment, her limbs refused to listen to her commands. Her legs turned stiff and moving them became difficult. Already she had fallen twice, her knees bruised from the brunt of it and her dress torn where she stepped upon the hem when getting up.
Why had he done this to her? What was she to do now? He had shamed her and ruined any chance she had at remaining anonymous. Soon, the town would be abuzz with what had transpired this night, making it even more difficult for her to slip away. A roomful of people had seen her horrified face and would remember it. How far would she have to go to outdistance such remembrance? To start over as someone new?
Hawk had sentenced her to this! And for what? Out of some misguided sense of guilt and responsibility?
She heard someone shout behind her, but she ignored it. Ignored them. Ignored him.
“Madalene!”
She stumbled again, but caught herself, pushing harder, faster. Tears froze against her cheeks, turning her lashes to icicles, but she could see Ridgemont House within sight. Candlelight burned in its windows like a beacon. She ran faster, knowing Hawk gained ground w
ith each step.
“Madalene, stop!”
She refused, but did not waste the breath to tell him so. Anger burned through her veins, heating her from the inside out, urging her legs on. She reached the front door and rushed inside, slamming it shut behind her, startling Cleveland who came from the drawing room.
“Please, do not let him inside. Please!” Her voice shook, partly from the cold and partly from the upset of having her life turned upside down. She pushed away from the door as Hawk pounded on the other side.
“Madalene! Let me in!”
“What is the meaning of all this racket?” Lady Dalridge stood at the railing near the stairwell and looked down into the entrance from the floor above. “Miss Cosgrove? Good heavens, what has happened to you? Are you hurt? Where is your coat, child?”
The viscountess’s questions peppered her as Hawk’s pounding shook the door behind her back, but she had lost the ability to thread words into thoughts and explain what had happened to her.
“Help me.”
Lady Dalridge motioned urgently with her hand. “Come to me, child. Hurry.”
Madalene used the last of her strength to propel herself up the stairs to Lady Dalridge. The older woman grabbed her hand and pointed to a nearby doorway. “Go to my salon. Now.”
Madalene obeyed, too tired, too distraught to do anything but. The salon was within earshot of the stairwell. She leaned against the doorframe and sank to the floor, her breath coming in gasps, her heart hammering hard against her breastbone until she feared it would burst through. The tears that had frozen on her face melted as new ones flowed freely over them.
What now, her brain screamed, demanding an answer she did not have to give. What now?
“Open the door, Cleveland.” Madalene heard the door hitch followed by a brief respite of silence as the pounding stopped. “Lord Hawksmoor, what is the meaning of this?”
“I need to speak with Madalene.” He was out of breath. His voice urgent. Desperate.