Lords of Hawksfell Manor 3
Matthew’s Mask
Matthew Hawk is relieved to learn his son-of-a-bitch father was really his son-of-a-bitch uncle. His real father was the late Earl of Hawksfell. To his surprise, his half brother, the new earl, welcomes him to Hawksfell Manor.
Posy Davidson, a maid at the manor, has a sordid reputation. She loves footman William Beckett, but Matthew was her first lover. They rekindle their passion, but she still wants William. She’s afraid she’s as bad as everyone thinks.
William and Matthew both want Posy, but can’t deny their own attraction. They agree to share her and each other. Matthew wants to love them but learned to hide his feelings from his abusive uncle.
When the earl throws a masked ball in Matthew’s honor, Posy and William attend in disguise. The three of them flirt and dance and their passion reaches its pinnacle. But can Matthew drop his mask and show them his heart?
Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 28,351 words
MATTHEW’S MASK
Lords of Hawksfell Manor 3
Josie Dennis
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
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MATTHEW’S MASK
Copyright © 2012 by Josie Dennis
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-033-9
First E-book Publication: December 2012
Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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MATTHEW’S MASK
Lords of Hawksfell Manor 3
JOSIE DENNIS
Copyright © 2012
Chapter 1
England, 1912
Matthew Hawk stared at the attorney, his mouth agape.
“You mean my rotten son-of-a-bitch father was really my rotten son-of-a-bitch uncle?” he asked.
The attorney flinched then nodded. “Regrettably, yes.”
Matthew blew out a breath. “You regret it all you like. I don’t.”
The man cleared his throat and shuffled the papers on his desk, his head bowed. The call to the attorney’s office in London wasn’t unexpected, now that his father—make that his uncle—dropped dead last month. Matthew didn’t expect to inherit much coin, that was certain. Hawks were blessed with their finances, or so the late Viscount Lindhurst always said. Pity he was as loose with his money as he was with his seed.
“You’re still heir to his property,” the attorney went on, adjusting his glasses to peer up at him. “And you now hold the title of Viscount Lindhurst.”
“And little else save for my own money, isn’t that right?” Matthew finally sat back down in the chair across from him. “Bloody beautiful.”
“The viscount had debts that had to be paid, my lord.” His cheeks reddened. “It seems there were several women in the village who he—”
“Fucked and abandoned?” Matthew cut in. “Don’t worry about my sensibilities, Sims. I know what a bastard my father—excuse me, my uncle—was. He was a hypocrite as well.”
“Be that as it may, you have claims on another estate.”
“My real father’s? Tell me he’s dead, too. That will save me the trouble of confronting the man who fucked and abandoned my mother.”
A memory came to him, that of the sweet woman who’d raised him until he was nine years old. That was precisely when the viscount had taken over, sparing Matthew neither his tongue nor his fists in his effort to “make him into a man.”
It was a blessing the bastard died in that public house last month, collapsing on the poor girl unfortunate enough to take his coin for a tumble. Though Matthew had grown as big and strong as the man, the verbal jabs never ceased. Matthew’s hold on his restraint to pay him back in full had been tenuous at best.
“Yes, the late Earl of Hawksfell went down with the Titanic in April.”
“Screwing his way across the Atlantic until it struck the iceberg, no doubt.”
The attorney gasped, and Matthew waved a hand at him. “Don’t expect me to mourn a man I never knew, Sims. I’m certain he was like every other Hawk in our part of England. A rutting bastard with no conscience or responsibility, save for legitimatizing their offspring.” He laughed without humor. “Although my father didn’t even do that, did he? No, he let his brother raise me.”
“The truth of your sire was always in these papers, my lord,” Sims said. “I wasn’t at liberty to divulge it to you, and apparently, your uncle never saw fit to do it either.”
“Yes.” Matthew thought about the many things his uncle kept from him. “No doubt he feared I’d finally lose my restraint and punch his perfect teeth down his throat.”
Sims blinked. “I have the information on the current Earl of Hawksfell, my lord.”
“The brother I never knew I had. Well, half-brother. We Hawks are all ‘half-something or others’ aren’t we?”
“I’m afraid so.” More paper shuffling, then Sims sighed. “Do you wish me to pen a letter to the earl?”
“For what reason? So that he can deny me my rights as one of the late earl’s legitimate heirs? He did legitimatize me, didn’t he?”
“Yes. Here are copies of the papers he signed right after you were born.”
Matthew took the papers and stood again. “At least I won’t have to prove that on my own. Where is this Hawksfell Manor?”
“In Yorkshire. It sits just outside the village of Helmsley, my lord. On the moors.”
“Helmsley? I’ve been at the inn there. Last spring.” Matthew thought for a moment, recalling just what he’d gotten up to at that inn set in the shadow of his then-unknown brother’s estate. “Thank you, Sims.”
Sims nodded, and Matthew left the attorney’s office. His motor sat waiting at the curb, and it was a finely-outfitted vehicle. His uncle might have been lousy with saving money, but he’d been adept at making it. Matthew carried that trait along with the Hawk lusts, and his own fortune had grown in the past few years. Now he was twenty-six years old and wealthy in his own right. Even before this new development. He directed his chauffeur to take him home to Lindhurst and sat back on the leather seat.
He’d never tried to contain his Hawk beast, not since he’d reached puberty. If he did, pain would consume him until he found release. No, he’d taken his pleasure anywhere and with anyone despite the consequences when his uncle unerringly learned of it. Funny, but he’d always beaten or berated Matthew for giving in to his baser urges even as he fucked everything that moved.
“Bloody hypocrite,” he muttered.
Why shouldn’t Matthew take his lusts as a gift instead of a curse? He gave as much pleasure as he took. He could fuck forever, in a groom’s ass or a serving girl’s pussy, and used his mouth and hands to make them come, too. The people around Lindhurst Manor knew what a Hawk was and what a Hawk could do. He was always kind with his words and generous with his coin. He always made certain to leave them happy. But leave them he did.
No one had a hold on his heart, nor would they. That was a weakness he would never allow. His uncle had been right on that count. And now he was on his way to Helmsley and, ultimately, to Hawksfell Manor.
He couldn’t recall the name of the girl he’d been with at the Inn at Helmsley that spring night. It was a flower, maybe. Rose or Daisy. But the memory of it caused his chest to tighten. She’d been sweet. Untried. A virgin. That hadn’t mattered in the end, though. He’d fucked her hard once he’d breached her maidenhead. He’d given her what he knew without a doubt was her first orgasm and left her ample payment as well. She must live in or around Helmsley. Maybe he’d look her up for another romp.
There was no denying he’d have to find an outlet for his passions and soon. It had been days since he’d gotten laid, and from experience he knew that his cock wouldn’t be quiet for much longer. Using his hand on himself was never an option. Stabbing pain and an excruciating erection lasting for hours followed swiftly the few times he’d tried to come that way alone.
Alone. He wasn’t that. Not any longer. He had a blasted brother now. The bloody Earl of Hawksfell. What was he like? Was he like his father, who had nothing to do with Matthew? Or was he like his uncle, who should have?
He gazed out the window, not seeing anything past the glass. It was of no consequence. Nothing held him at Lindhurst. That was certain. He’d have his things readied and leave for Hawksfell Manor tomorrow morning.
He would meet the earl and claim what was his.
* * * *
Posy Davidson sat on her bed in the attic room at Hawksfell Manor she used to share with her best friend Mary. She toyed with her braid draped over her breast then smoothed the sheets and coverlet over her legs. The hour was late, yet she couldn’t find sleep. It had been a month since her best friend had married a Hawk and left the manor. Imagine, Mary finding love and passion both! No one deserved it more than Mary, though. She was a good girl, and her two men loved her. If Posy craved a bit of love for herself, she wasn’t going to admit it. Even in her lonely bedroom with no one to see her cry.
She thought of William, that very proper footman who could raise her passions with one look. There was more to him than stoic stiffness, and well she knew it. He could run hot and wild, and he’d been chasing after her from the day she started here at the manor five months ago. It didn’t seem to matter to him that she’d had to please the earl as part of her job. It was a requirement of service, due to his being a Hawk and all. She’d done her duty once with little pleasure herself. Oh, the other servants believed she’d been with the earl many times, that he’d taken her in every room of the manor before he suddenly settled down and married.
Lady Hawksfell apparently believed that as well, for she was cold to her, and Posy made every effort to vacate a room if the countess was in it. She regretted now that she’d perpetuated that impression, acting quite flirtatious with the grooms and the chauffeur. In fact, she supposed she did so to try to get a reaction out of William.
Even he believed she’d given everything to the earl that she’d given William. It was simply not true. She’d eased the earl with her hand. That was all. He’d been in pain, and she’d eased him.
She supposed William’s misconception was due to the fact that she wasn’t a virgin when he’d taken her that first time. Well, that wasn’t entirely her fault. She could lay part of the blame for that at the feet of the man who first took her last spring.
He’d been as handsome as the earl and quite like him in looks. In fact, when she’d first come to work here, for one heart-stopping moment she’d believed the earl was that nobleman she’d met at the Inn at Helmsley.
Matthew had been sweet and kind, but the extra coin he’d given her afterward had stung. She’d been trying to get into service, and away from her grandparents’ farm, for the last year. She’d had nothing on the farm. She’d been nothing there, too. Finally she’d succeeded with a position at the manor. She’d only stopped at the inn for the one night, on her way to take her new position. He’d been passing through on his way to London, and she’d been dazzled by his charm. And his appearance. She could admit that now.
He was as handsome as William. Dark-haired with darker eyes, strong, fit figure, and a beautiful mouth. Matthew had been wild for her, and she’d given in. She’d already had her interview with Mr. Grantley, the earl’s man-of-affairs, and knew what was expected of her at the manor. Why hold on to her virginity, only to surrender it to the earl as a matter of course?
Now she was good and stuck. She wanted more than William’s passions. She wanted more of the talking and cuddling that sometimes followed their lovemaking but not often enough. He was holding back, and it was obviously due to the fact that he didn’t truly value her beyond a quick tumble. She sniffed and wiped away a tear.
Maybe it was time to look for a new position. She could reinvent herself and act like a maid a lady would want in her house instead of a girl that a lady feared would jump into bed with her husband the moment her back was turned. Mr. Grantley would see that she got a good recommendation. He was kind, and one of the men now securely attached to Mary. That fact still amazed her. Who knew passion hid beneath his starchy exterior?
She’d miss William if she left, though. His eyes, so deep a brown she could get lost in them. His hair, so rich a brown to look like sable. His passion and his tenderness. Would he miss her? Or would he tumble the next maid to give him the eye?
She punched her pillow and flopped down, eager to find sleep. The two men swirled in her mind. Matthew, of whom she knew so little. And William, of whom she knew too much.
It didn’t matter. She’d end up alone with nothing but her memories of loves past.
That was really all she was worth, wasn’t it?
Chapter 2
William Beckett stood beside the front door of Hawksfell Manor as the unfamiliar car drove up to the entrance. The earl wasn’t expecting any guests, at least according to Mr. Carstairs. The butler stood beside him, his chest puffed out and his uniform crisp o
ver his stout figure.
“We don’t know who this is, William,” Mr. Carstairs said. “Nevertheless, we must greet him and learn what his business is here.”
William nodded. The motor was grand, as fine as any car the earl owned. He straightened as the car rolled to a stop. The driver got out and turned to open the back door. The man within thanked him and stepped out onto the drive. He stood and looked up at the manor then at him and Mr. Carstairs. William felt a flash of recognition, strange as that should be. His black, wavy hair, the handsome face and cleft chin, those dark eyes. He looked very familiar indeed.
“My God,” William whispered. “He looks just like the earl.”
“Hush,” Mr. Carstairs said. “Amazing, though.” He cleared his throat. “I am Mr. Carstairs, butler here at Hawksfell Manor.”
The man, perhaps a few years younger than the earl, nodded. “And I’m Viscount Lindhurst.”
“May I ask what your business is here, my lord?”
He smiled, a stunning display of white teeth, and William felt a flash of that allure the earl possessed in abundance.
“I’m here to see my brother,” he said.
“Your brother, my lord?” Mr. Carstairs asked.
“The earl, Mr. Carstairs. I am the earl’s brother, Matthew Hawk.”
William stared at him for a beat then hurried to see to his portmanteaux at the boot of the car. Let Mr. Carstairs handle whatever this was. He would handle the suitcases and leave the rest of the drama to him and the housekeeper.
Carrying the two bags, and leaving the two others for the time-being, he made his way into the house. Mrs. Holmes, the housekeeper, stood in the entry. She wore a puzzled expression on her gently lined face.
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