Fortune Favors the Sparrow

by Rebecca Connolly

  Sniffling, nodding through her tears, Clara gave her new superior a watery smile. “I’d like to begin my training at the earliest opportunity, please. Would tomorrow be possible?”

  Chapter Four

  “Madrid… Rome… Paris… Salzburg…”

  Hawk shook his head as he eyed his brother’s most recent letter before tossing it onto his desk. How was it possible for anyone to have been in four of the greatest European cities within the same month and genuinely have had any sort of sanity left? Perhaps Griffin had developed an inhuman level of endurance for such things, and for the amount of fine activity that would be required in the Society of those cities, he would have had to.

  Nothing of the sort would ever be to Hawk’s taste.

  So why, then, was he so envious?

  It was not as though he had never been to great cities on the Continent. Of course, he had in his earlier days, a younger gentleman widening his scope of the world. But it had not been for his own enjoyment, and he had not spent much time in any of the locations. Each had simply been a mark on a list of sorts, an item to accomplish rather than an experience to relish. Something he could add to his gentlemanly repertoire to fit in better among the others of his circle.

  Now he was the duke, a respected man of property and fortune, with no little influence, and he could honestly say he would not have been able to tell the difference between Berlin and Milan.

  Griffin was living for them both, it seemed.

  Fortunate blaggard.

  Once Hawk had secured all of his estates appropriately, once he felt himself entirely in possession of his title and his role within it, and once he was certain Adrianna was settled enough to not require his particular attention or concern…

  He groaned at the thought. The only way his sister would ever be settled enough that he did not have to worry over her would be when she was married.

  If she married.

  She was an independent girl, and had been since she was old enough to speak her mind, and age had not brought maturity with it. Or, if it had, the maturity had not included a measure of reserve with it.

  More’s the pity.

  He adored his sister and her vitality in life. It was simply that he was also terrified by it.

  For now, however, Adrianna was at school, and others were tasked with her immediate care. When the day arrived that she would return to his guardianship on a daily basis, his life as he knew it would be at an end until he walked her down the aisle.

  And his life as it was bored him. Everything about himself bored him. Sitting here in the study of his estate in Northumberland, scowling at his brother’s letter, he was bored.

  He felt… boring.

  That might have been worse.

  The world had enough boring peers, as well as scandalous ones, royal ones, and bankrupt ones. Every way he turned when in London, he seemed to find a new lord or earl or baron running about, none of whom were of any particular notability, let alone nobility.

  If Society was so inundated with men bearing such titles, how was he to distinguish himself? He would be lost in the crowd by simply being respectable, honorable, reserved, and dedicated. He could not change his nature, he was too set in his ways. But surely there was something he could do.

  Without having to be at a great many balls and standing aloof along a great many walls.

  Hawk frowned at the thought and set Griffin’s letter aside, then let his attention go past it to the window of his study. The day was fine, considering the chill they’d had recently, and autumn in Northumberland was typically particularly cold, though recently it had been quite perfect. But he wouldn’t mind winter being slower to arrive, particularly if he were to spend much time at this estate.

  If he stayed indoors nearly all the time, would it even matter?

  But the stables at his Northumberland estate could not hope to rival that of Millmond, or even Kirkleigh, for that matter. There was a horse at his disposal, of course, but he’d have to rent horses from the nearest inn if he wished to use his carriage.

  It was one of the things he aimed to have improved here, naturally, but that was undoubtedly a task for the spring.

  Didn’t help him at the moment, but it was true.

  The clipped sound of boots on the floors in the corridor brought his attention around, and a rosy cheeked, windswept Nat strode in. He looked the part of a perfect country gentleman, and Hawk was instantly envious.

  It was an all-too-common inclination for him these days.

  Nat stared at him for a few moments, his steps slowing. Then he sighed and threw his hands up. “What did I do now?”

  “You look refreshed and at ease,” Hawk told him, his tone grumbling and petulant. “I should be feeling that in my home, not my guest. Or, at least, along with my guest.”

  “First of all,” Nat said as he tapped his crop in one hand, “I hardly count as a guest. Secondly, would you prefer I be disgruntled and bored?”

  Hawk barely blinked at the comment. “Why not? I am.”

  A too-smug smile curved on Nat’s mouth. “Ah ha…”

  Any time such a superior sound came from Nat was cause for concern, Hawk was instantly wary. “What?”

  Nat tapped his crop in his hand once more and came closer to the desk. “Your problem is not with me, Your Grace, but with yourself. Despite being duke for a few years now, you have not decided what sort of duke you will be.”

  “What sort of dukes are there, Nat?” Hawk asked with amusement, more to deflect the sharp jab of truth that hit him squarely in the gut. “Please, enlighten me.”

  His friend was too wise to take the sarcasm as bait. “You seem to lack personality or motivation or something.”

  Hawk’s brows snapped down. “I lack personality?”

  “You lack identity,” Nat amended. “You’ve become so focused on your responsibilities that you’ve forgotten to put yourself into the mix. You’re the mold of a duke without the substance of a duke.”

  “I wasn’t aware that dukes had substance,” Hawk murmured as his expression eased back into its natural state.

  Nat gestured towards Hawk as though that were obvious. “Not all of them.”

  The conversation was growing increasingly less enjoyable the more directed at Hawk it became, but a sense of discouragement had begun to seep into him the more Nat continued to identify the exact problem.

  “What do I do?” Hawk asked before he meant to, the odd vulnerability of the question leaving him fairly exposed, even before someone he trusted as much as Nat.

  Nat was less inclined to be sympathetic on the subject. “Don’t sit there like a wallflower. Get out of the study and find something to do! And don’t ask me for ideas, I can barely entertain myself. I refuse to take responsibility for you, as well.”

  Well, that was not particularly helpful, but he supposed that was fair.

  Hawk winced playfully. “Does it have to be out of the study?”

  “Leaving now,” Nat announced as he turned on his heel and left the room. “Get out of the room, Hawk!”

  Left alone again, Hawk pursed his lips in thought. What did he want to do?

  Why did that feel like a stupid question?

  But exploring his options was undoubtedly a better idea than sitting in his study and doing nothing, so he pushed himself to his feet and began to trace the path that Nat had trod just moments before.

  That path, naturally, led to the stables, where he found his stablemaster and a few of his hands working on the dismantling of the existing structures and tossing the scraps of wood into a massive pile. He’d ordered the thing done, it was true, but he hadn’t anticipated having it done so soon. Granted, destruction wasn’t the end goal, but he had just approved the plans for the new stables, so it was rather delightful to see work happening.

  An easy manner of gaining accomplishment.

  Of being productive.

  Of feeling useful.

  Hawk’s eyes widened, and he blinked at the e
piphany that had begun and was still coursing through him.

  That was it.

  He wanted to do good, ultimately, and signing documents that brought good about was not good enough. Why not physically do the good that he could as well? He was a decent sportsman, always had been, and he prided himself he was not of a slovenly build or nature. He might not know what he would be doing, but he would still be active.

  And he was open to learning.

  He would be a most willing, eager student.

  With a satisfied nod, Hawk strode forward, fixing his most welcoming smile on his face, despite the fact that he would be the intruder in this scenario. It was awkward to be so, given he was the owner and master of them all in the technical sense, and smiling would not rid them of that awkwardness. But, with any luck, it might help.

  The stablemaster, who was perched on the roof, saw him first and paused in his work as he watched Hawk approach. The others followed suit until all eyes were on Hawk before he ever reached them.

  There was nothing like making an entrance, he supposed.

  “Good morning, Mr. Bailey!” Hawk called, raising a hand in greeting.

  The stablemaster wiped his hands on his trousers and waved in return. “Good morning to you, Your Grace. Is there something we can do for you?” He gestured to the one part of the stable that was occupied. “Would you like Shadow saddled for you? Jones there can see to him, if you wish.”

  “No, thank you,” Hawk replied easily, rubbing his hands together for no reason other than to look eager, if not at ease. “I rather hoped there was something I could do for you.”

  Mr. Bailey’s thick brows rose, and he dropped a knee to the roof to kneel, which somehow only made him seem more incredulous. “Your Grace?”

  Hawk’s smile turned sheepish. “I would like to help you with your work today. If I may.”

  While none of the men at work looked at each other, the same expression appeared on each face as though they’d had a discussion on the subject he had somehow missed.

  It was the expression of terrified disbelief.

  Not entirely encouraging.

  Hawk waited, uncertain as to his next step. He was in a position to demand he get his way, but in this matter, he was the novice and they the masters. He had neither position nor authority here.

  “Has Your Grace any experience in construction?” Bailey asked, apparently without judgment. “Or demolition, as it were?”

  “None.” Hawk smiled without shame, praying it would help. “But I wish to learn and to be of use.”

  The expressions around him lost any hint of fear and took on more amusement, though it did not seem to be at his expense.

  Bailey, for one, began to smile as well. “We are engaged in the work on your stables, Your Grace. Will you mind the use of your unpracticed hands in it?”

  Hawk set his hands at his hips. “I trust none of you will allow me to err to the extreme that it would ruin matters irreparably. And I would be most grateful to learn everything I can to be a help and not a hindrance. Indeed, in all matters regarding the actual, physical activity on the estate.”

  Now the men looked at each other, and seemed to consider his idea with some interest.

  Bailey grinned at Hawk as though he were his own son, though he couldn’t have been more than fifteen years beyond Hawk’s own age. “Then you’d best come on up, Your Grace. We’d be pleased to teach you the way of things.”

  “Excellent!” Hawk clapped his hands once, his excitement overruling his natural reserve at the moment. He strolled forward towards the ladder he saw leaning against the side of the structure.

  “You may wish to shed your coat, Your Grace,” one of the men suggested ruefully. “It gets rather hot despite the chill, and you’ll want a better ability to move your arms.”

  Hawk nodded obediently and began to shed his coat without fuss, tossing it over a nearby fence rail.

  “And your cravat, Your Grace. It’ll only grow more cumbersome.”

  The winding strip of linen had never been shed with more gusto than at that moment.

  Hawk glanced up at the group and held out his arms for examination. “Am I presentable for the task?”

  “Good enough, Your Grace.” Bailey waved him up. “Mind your step, and come on up.”

  Hours later, damp with perspiration and streaked with dirt, Hawk strode back into the pristine halls of the house, grinning from ear to ear, his coat and cravat slung over one shoulder.

  “Your Grace…”

  Hawk turned to his butler, still beaming. “Yes, Clarke?”

  The stout man’s eyes were fixed on the bottom half of Hawk’s breeches and on his boots, which, admittedly, were caked in mud and scuffed to the extreme. “Your Grace…”

  Hawk followed his gaze without concern. “Ah, yes. I do apologize, I am tracking filth into the house. Should I perhaps remove my boots outside?”

  “No, Your Grace, not at all,” Clarke insisted, his attention drifting now to the streaks on Hawk’s shirt. “Your rooms will do just fine, it’s just…”

  When he didn’t continue, Hawk prodded, “Yes…?”

  Clarke’s eyes snapped up to Hawk’s then, the perfect butler, as always. “Nothing, Your Grace. Welcome home.”

  Clearly, that was not what he had been preparing to say, but if he were going to pretend as though nothing was amiss after his earlier display, Hawk was content to let him do so. “I’ve been on the estate all day, Clarke, but thank you all the same.” He turned back and moved on, tempted to whistle, though it was a crime to all ears for him to ever attempt anything remotely musical.

  But he was feeling content, and it had been so long since he had known the sensation, it almost called for its own aria in tribute.

  The fact that he was even considering something musical was indicative of the victory.

  Or of his madness.

  Likely both.

  Who would have known that he only needed to bruise his knees and irritate the palms of his hands in order to find satisfaction with his life?

  “Who are you and what have you done with the Duke of Kirklin?”

  Hawk chuckled and turned to face Nat, sliding his coat from his shoulder to hang over his arm instead. “Your humor does you credit, as always.” He spread out his arms, looking down at himself. “Very dukely, am I not?”

  “You look like a poorly treated farmhand,” Nat said with the same sort of startled expression his butler had worn a moment ago.

  “Your intelligence, on the other hand…” Hawk shook his head and continued walking, knowing Nat would follow like a curious puppy.

  Amazingly, he got all the way to the stairs before his friend spoke again, though he had indeed followed. “What happened? Were you waylaid by gypsies?”

  “I found something to do,” Hawk informed his occasionally idiotic friend. “Just as you suggested.”

  Nat harrumphed behind him as they climbed the stairs. “I hardly meant for you to give yourself up to a gang of highwaymen. How much did they get?”

  Hawk ignored that and continued into his bedchamber. “It was the most extraordinary thing, Nat. I was the worst possible set of hands for the thing, and yet the work went on. More than that, it filled me. I worked by the sweat of my brow and the strength of my hands, untrained though they were, and I saw the progress before me. The satisfaction in that…” He shook his head and tossed his coat and cravat on the bed. “Marvelous. Simply marvelous.”

  “You… worked?”

  “I did.” Hawk looked over at his friend, who had dropped himself into a chair just as Hawk’s impassive valet, White, hurried into the room. “On the stables.”

  Nat gaped, wide-eyed and pale as he did so. “On purpose? Or were you atoning for some sin of which I am unaware?”

  Hawk gave him a derisive look as White began to work on removing the offensive clothing items from Hawk. “Is it very bad, White?” he asked in an apologetic tone.

  White’s jaw tightened, which was more em
otion than Hawk had seen from him in years. “Not unsalvageable, Your Grace, but it will be a challenge.” He huffed under his breath, which was another novelty for him. “Do you plan on making such activity a habit, Your Grace?”

  “By heaven, I hope so!” Hawk told him and Nat. “It was the most gratifying activity I have engaged in for as long as I can remember. I’ve no intention of giving it up, so long as wiser hands can guide me.”

  “Then I shall send off for linen of a sturdier quality, Your Grace,” White told him simply as he went about his work, tugging at his boots now. “It will be rougher against you, but better suited for the task. And for my own, for that matter.”

  Hawk found himself smiling slightly at that. “Well, we must do what is best suited for you, White. As always.”

  “I thought so, Your Grace.”

  Nat shook his head and sat forward. “I still don’t understand. Tell me again.”

  Hawk snorted once. “You told me to do something. So I left the house and did the first thing that I saw needed to be done: the stablemaster and his hands working on the renovation project. I asked if I could be of help—”

  “Which, of course, you could not.”

  “—and they agreed to teach me the way of it,” Hawk went on, pretending Nat had said nothing. “I’d never used a hammer and nails in my life before today.”

  “Not sure that’s something to be ashamed of,” Nat told him without concern. “I don’t think anyone of our station would say differently.”

  Hawk shook his head in disbelief. “I knocked down a wall today. I pulled fence posts. I mucked out a stable stall.”

  “What in hell’s name did you do that for?” Nat exclaimed in disgust. “That is part of someone’s employment, you fool, not a hobby to engage in!”

  “I didn’t mind it!” Hawk laughed, almost giddy with the memory of it. “The effort involved in such a simple thing… By Jove, I ache all over from that. The stablehands laughed, of course.”

  “Of course, they did. I would have, too, but not for the same reasons.” Nat scoffed, shaking his head.