A Sinner No More

by Kelly Boyce

  “I don’t even know where I fit anymore,” Madalene admitted. Her position at Northill was about to be handed over to Mrs. Cleary upon their arrival. Her position as headmistress of Miss Caldwell’s school had been destroyed by the scandal and the fear she might bring danger to the students with the threat of Lord T’s intent still looming over her.

  What did she do now? Where did she go?

  A soft knock echoed from the other side of the door. The footmen had arrived to take her trunk to the carriage. Madalene stood, bringing Lady Henrietta with her, their hands still clasped tightly.

  “I will miss you,” Lady Henrietta said, turning to embrace her in a warm hug. “Please write me and let me know how you fare.”

  “I will. Thank you for all your kindness toward me.” Despite the bad that had happened, her new friendship with Lady Henrietta was something she would always treasure. She was a lovely, young woman with much to offer the world. Madalene hoped one day, she could find her way back out into it to share that gift.

  “And who knows,” Lady Henrietta said as she led Madalene from the room to follow behind the footmen and her trunk. “Perhaps your first letter to me will have good news, hm?”

  Madalene forced a smile, not wanting to say good-bye on a sour note. “Perhaps.”

  But as she settled herself across from Mrs. Cleary in the carriage, Madalene could not imagine what course of events would need to occur in order for her to write such a letter.

  * * *

  The pounding in Hawk’s head had finally eased to a dull thud. He had cleaned himself up, prepared a proper speech to convince Madalene to change her mind and marry him and then made the brief carriage ride over to Ridgemont House. If his luck held, he would arrive there and not be held at gunpoint by the surprisingly fearless Lady Henrietta. Apparently, her experience with Pengrin had unearthed the young woman’s bolder nature.

  At least the man’s existence had served some positive purpose, unintended as it might have been.

  But whether Lady Henrietta and her indomitable great-aunt were present or not, Hawk’s confidence grew with each turn of the wheels. Of course, he would be able to convince her to marry him. Why did he ever doubt himself in this regard? They were friends. They shared a passion for each other that could not be denied. Yes, they came from different social classes and likely the ton would raise their collective eyebrows at the match, but when in the past five years had the ton not raised their eyebrows at him? Her support through this ordeal had been absolute, a clear sign she cared for him as much as he did her.

  Naturally, he must offer a proper and heartfelt apology for keeping the letters Lord T had taunted him with from her. But the reason he had feared contacting her was that it might put her in further danger. He’d done his best to keep an eye upon her from afar—a task made all the more difficult by the nomadic existence she and her father took up while looking for work. Should that not count for something?

  Certainly, he had much to atone for in the way he went about attempting to force her to change her mind with respect to his rather blundered proposal, and he much regretted his impulsive behavior. But if she agreed to be his wife, he promised to spend a lifetime making it up to her.

  Surely, once he told her all of this, she would see things his way. He leaned back in his carriage seat, feeling much better about the situation now that he had sobered up and determined a course of action.

  Unfortunately, that feeling soon deteriorated when upon his approach he saw another carriage pulling away. And his confidence declined even farther when he stepped out of his carriage and questioned the butler, who scowled when he spied Hawk and haughtily informed him it was Miss Cosgrove in the carriage.

  The hope Hawk had of making reparations and setting their future on a proper course plummeted deeper than the bottom of the Thames when said butler then informed him—far more smugly than any butler had a right to—that Miss Cosgrove was leaving London for good and on her way back to Northill.

  Any set down Hawk wished to rest upon the butler, who had made his least favorite people list, was set aside for the moment. He had more important things to deal with at the moment, such as chasing down the damnable carriage that neared the end of the street.

  He shot the butler a dark look and began to run.

  Chapter Twenty

  Hawk skidded to a stop at the side of the carriage after the driver heeded his command and stopped. He yanked open the door, his chest heaving as he drew in deep breaths, and found himself staring at a rather strongly built, irate woman.

  “Good Heavens above! What is the meaning of this?”

  The older woman pressed her ample form against the plump squabs of the carriage seat and clutched her embroidered travel bag against her body as if she expected Hawk would snatch it away from her. Granted, he was somewhat disheveled from running down the street after the godforsaken carriage, and likely shouting at the top of his lungs for the driver to stop or face dire consequences that may have included disembowelment, made him appear something of a madman, but he was hardly a thief.

  “It is quite all right, Mrs. Cleary,” Madalene said. “I know this gentleman.”

  Hawk turned his head to look at Madalene. Even the sight of her was a balm to his heart. How was it simply gazing upon her could create such a warmth? A calm. A sense that everything would be fine so long as he had her by his side. Suddenly he questioned whom it was that was being saved.

  “Gentleman? Hrmph!” Mrs. Cleary glared, pulling Hawk’s attention away from Madalene. The older woman did not look pleased. In fact, she looked as if she might loosen her death grip on her travel bag and box him soundly about the ears. “No gentleman of my acquaintance chases down a lady’s carriage in such a manner, making a pure spectacle of himself.”

  “Well,” Hawk said, recovering his breath in great gulps and forcing his most charming smile. “I am a rather irregular gentleman.”

  “Obviously.”

  He looked at Madalene. She wore a simple travel outfit with a dark red coat that made her ivory complexion glow in the dim light of the carriage. “May I come in?”

  Mrs. Cleary gasped. “You most certainly may not!”

  Hawk pursed his lips. Was it not just his luck that the woman Madalene hired as her replacement at Northill would be both opinionated and equal in size to him, though he suspected she may outweigh him by at least a stone, possibly two. He had a vision of Mrs. Cleary throwing herself between them and wrestling him to the ground in the middle of Brook Street. Now wouldn’t that send tongues wagging before the noon hour?

  Madalene gave Mrs. Cleary a reassuring smile before returning her attention to him. Though, by then, her smile had faded. “Lord Hawksmoor, I really do not feel there is anything left to say, do you?”

  Lord Hawksmoor. The proper use of his name and title saddened him. Not that he expected her to address him as Hawk in front of others, but the emphasis she had put on it indicated that, had they been alone, she would have done the same. She had erected a barrier and he was not to be invited past it.

  A proper gentleman would have taken the hint and yielded to the lady’s wishes. But, as he’d already told Mrs. Cleary, he was not a regular gentleman. And he certainly wasn’t a proper one.

  “As a matter of fact, I feel there is still quite a bit to say and given that I am underdressed for such cold weather, I thought I might come aboard and have this conversation out of the elements.”

  He did not wait for her invitation, unsure if it would actually come and instead, hiked a leg up and hauled himself into the carriage, taking the seat next to Madalene as Mrs. Cleary had commandeered the middle of the other set of seats.

  “This is highly indecorous, Miss Cosgrove. I simply cannot allow it. Think of your reputation!”

  “I’m afraid there is nothing left of my reputation, Mrs. Cleary,” Madalene said and the weary sadness that wrapped itself around each word sliced through Hawk’s bravado and cut him to the core.

  “Her reputati
on is perfectly safe—Mrs. Cleary, is it?” Hawk waited for the older woman to nod begrudgingly before he continued. “We are not alone in the carriage and given you are a missus, I can only assume you to be a proper, married chaperone, are you not?”

  Mrs. Cleary shifted in her seat. “Indeed, I am a widow.”

  “Ah. I see. Then you have my deepest condolences, madam. It must be very difficult to find yourself on your own, having lost the one person you have loved for many years?”

  Mrs. Cleary appeared taken aback by his question, though if the sigh that came from Madalene was any indication, she knew exactly where this conversation was heading. Still, he pressed on. He had much work to do.

  “How awful it must have been for you to wake up one morning and discover the person you had professed your love to had suddenly left you without a word of warning, not having the common decency to even explain—”

  “You did not profess your love,” Madalene shot at him. “You ordered me to marry you for my own good. And when I said no, you humiliated me and ruined my reputation!”

  He winced. She did have a point there. “I grant you, it was not the most romantic of proposals. I should have thought it through much better. I should have offered you…what?” What had she wanted? Flowers and silly ballads and him on bended knee begging for her hand?

  “You should have simply asked. Not ordered.”

  “I did not order you. I merely suggested. Strongly, I admit, but we both know it is for the best.”

  “And was kissing me in front of everyone present and ruining my reputation so that I can never show my face in London, or garner proper employment to support myself your idea of a strong suggestion?”

  Mrs. Cleary let out a swift gasp. “Oh, my dear!”

  Hawk scowled. Any headway he may have been making getting Mrs. Cleary on his side just took a hit.

  “I admit my impulsive behavior was a bit heavy-handed—”

  “A bit?”

  “Very.” She continued to glare at him, her light blue eyes ablaze with indignation and Hawk was struck by the fact that she was even more beautiful when she was angry. How was such a thing possible? He didn’t know. All he knew was how much he wanted to thoroughly kiss her in that moment. Though likely, if he made the attempt, he’d find himself summarily ejected from the carriage and sitting in the middle of Brook Street looking like a complete idiot.

  Hawk took a deep breath. “I have compromised you. I take full responsibility for that and I apologize profusely. But I cannot change that now. The only way to reclaim your reputation is for us to marry. But I assure you, if I did not have such strong feelings for you, I would not have made such an offer.”

  “An offer that I have declined. I will stay with Father at Northill. There is no reason for me to return to London ever again.”

  “And how long do you intend to stay at Northill? It isn’t just about your reputation. Think of your safety. Lord T is out there and his letter found me at Northill. Are you prepared to stay under your father’s protection forever, to possibly endanger him and the Bowens in the process?”

  She pursed her lips and sat back in her seat, turning her head away from him to stare out the window. “It is none of your concern what I choose to do. I am not your responsibility and I do not wish to spend my life being such. I do not need a protector.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  She turned back to him and the lack of compromise in her expression drove the truth home. She would not budge in this regard. She was willing to take on the scorn of others and live with the scandal he’d created, live a life constantly looking over her shoulder, rather than marry him.

  His heart withered and desperation rushed in to fill the space. “Madalene, I insist that you allow me to protect—”

  She cut him off. “It has been over five years, my lord. If this Lord T intended me harm, surely he would have done so by now. For all we know, he simply enjoys taunting you. Maybe his purpose is to drive you around the bend and never lay a hand on me. I appreciate your concern, but you have placed a duty upon yourself that does not belong. I would rather you reclaim the life you should have had and leave me to mine.”

  “The life I should have had? And how do you suppose I do that? Should I resurrect my brother so he might reclaim his title? Should I move back to Raven Manor to live beneath his shadow and face the derision and disappointment of my parents each morning when I wake? And when they die, shall I haunt the empty halls like a specter, alone and miserable. Is that the life you speak of?”

  The sheen of tears appeared in a blink and brightened her eyes, softening the blaze that had burned in them only a moment ago. He immediately regretted his harsh words. The life he had been born into was not her fault. That he could never marry another because he loved her, also not her fault.

  “I want you to be happy,” she whispered.

  “You make me happy.”

  “Oh! Oh my.” Mrs. Cleary blurted out, drawing Hawk’s attention. He’d forgotten the older lady was there. He spared her a glance and discovered she had pulled a handkerchief from her bag and now used it to dab at her eyes. “That is quite a lovely sentiment. And he is a gentleman, Miss Cosgrove. Would you not consider such a match advantageous, especially given you have been compromised and will likely be unable to find such with someone else?”

  Hawk blinked. He had not expected such a turnaround from the woman who had attempted to bar him from the carriage not five minutes earlier. Who knew Mrs. Cleary would turn out to be such a blatant romantic as well as a pragmatist?

  Unfortunately, Madalene was not so easily swayed by soft sentiment or honest declarations, if the shaking of her head was any indication. “It was just a kiss. If the ton wishes to make such a to do about it, that is their business, but I won’t be swayed or backed into a corner by their foolish need to create something out of nothing.”

  Except the kiss hadn’t been nothing. It had been something. No, it had been everything.

  “Madalene, please—”

  “No.” Her answer came quietly but with hard purpose. “I will not spend my life feeling as if I am a burden you took on. You are not responsible for what your brother did, or for this Lord T’s actions. And I will not marry you to repair my reputation. We both deserve more than that, don’t you think?”

  Yes. At least she did. He, on the other hand, did not. He had failed her in every respect. Knowing him, befriending him, had made her life worse. Perhaps she was right, that she would be far better off without him. God only knew, he did not deserve her. He had always known it, somewhere deep inside. She was a shining star, far beyond his reach.

  But it didn’t change what his heart wanted. And his heart wanted her. Despite everything, they belonged together. He’d known it every day since he had awoken in Marcus Bowen’s home with no more memory than a newborn babe. Even then, his heart had remembered her. It had reached for her in the dark knowing within her lived all the things he needed.

  What he needed. Not her. She did not need him. Nor, it seemed, did she want him.

  “Lord Hawksmoor, I appreciate your proposal, but I have declined it. Repeatedly. Please, do not make this more difficult than it already is. Let me go.” The last words reached him on the softest of whispers but cut him like the sharpest blade.

  The strength of her conviction weighed upon him like a stone tethered to his leg, drawing him down into the dark waters. He wanted to fight against it, but what was the point? She had made her decision. She did not want to share her life with him. She did not want his protection. She simply wanted him to go away and leave her be.

  Had he not been such a prideful man, perhaps he would have begged. But what good would it do? She stared straight ahead, her gaze fixed on some point beyond Mrs. Cleary’s shoulder. She had already shut him out. Staying, attempting to change her mind would have just made him appear even more a fool than her solid rejection had made him feel.

  “Mrs. Cleary,” he said, offering the older woman a nod. “Forgiv
e my abrupt interruption of your journey. I hope I have not caused you to suffer any undue dismay.”

  “Oh, no, of course,” the older woman said, waving her handkerchief at him as the words tumbled out.

  “Miss Cosgrove, I wish you a safe journey. Will you at least write to me when you reach Northill so I might know you arrived safely?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  He nodded again then lingered a moment, his body unwilling to move away from hers knowing this was the last time he would be so close. But after a moment, the silence grew tense and there was no other option for him but to leave unless he intended them to sit on the side of the street for all eternity. He cleared his throat and reached for the door handle, swinging the door open and letting in the cold air.

  He stepped outside and stood, his back to the carriage. Politeness indicated he should turn around and bid the ladies a safe journey, but he couldn’t manage it. If he looked back, he would be unable to leave. He would vault himself back into that carriage, swallow his pride until he choked on it, and beg her to become his wife.

  And still her answer would remain the same.

  He reached back blindly and shoved the door closed. Then he forced his legs to move, one foot in front of the other, blindly walking down Brook Street with no destination in mind.

  * * *

  “And so you just left?”

  Hawk did not appreciate Huntsleigh’s pointed question or the way his tone conveyed that Hawk was an imbecile for having done so. Of course he had left. It wasn’t as if Madalene had given him much in the way of options on that account.

  “What else would you have had me do? Abduct her and run off to Gretna Green with Mrs. Cleary in tow?”

  “I would not have expected you to give up so easily and simply come back here looking like a whipped dog.”