To Romance a Scoundrel

by Rosie Wynter

  “You really do not have to explain yourself, Mr Hawkins,” Claire said with a soft smile. “If I thought, even for a moment, that you were such a cad and dilettante as you are describing, I assure you we would not be having this conversation now, nor would I have danced even one set with you.”

  Claire’s words seemed to have an effect on Mr Hawkins, and the slight show of resentment and insult that played over his usually calm and pleasant features, disappeared. It was a relief to see him return to himself. “Well, Miss Curtis, considering all you have told me here, it seems there is only one thing to be done.” Mr Hawkins took Claire’s hand in his, lifting it slightly, and then he bowed so that he could kiss her on the back of the hand. Once again, Claire felt something stir in herself. She cast her eyes directly to Grace, dismayed to find her sister watching her carefully. She knew without a shadow of a doubt, that she would receive a tongue lashing for the display later on.

  “Will you do me the honour of meeting me in one of the annexe rooms when the clock turns nine? Or, perhaps you could steal away from the assembly altogether, and we could meet outside.”

  Claire’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Her brow knotted together, and she could feel the colour drain out of her face. What Mr Hawkins was suggesting, the meaning of it…

  “I can see you are conflicted, Miss Curtis,” the poet said. Now, he too had a slight expression of pain as he stepped back. Once more, his eyes moved to where Claire’s sister was sitting. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head. “I will not tell you what to do, nor how to act. If you prefer to cling to the dictates of your sister, then I will understand. However, I do hope you do not allow your independent spirit and sharp mind to be dulled and locked away by those who would have you practice more caution. None of the great lovers of history advanced very far by obeying the rules and strictures laid down to them by family and society. I shall be waiting for you outside the assembly room at nine. I hope you will join me there, Miss Curtis… we might find some new accord that will allow us to dance that second set I so crave.”

  Claire found herself frozen in place. She stared at Mr Hawkins as he turned smartly on his heel and began to move away in the opposite direction. She was left alone, confused and turned about. Somewhere nearby, the musicians were starting out their second set of the evening and people were pushing by her to join the throng of dancers or moving away in search of something to drink.

  When an older married couple begged Claire to step aside, she found herself coming to life once more. She took several deep breaths and then marched in the direction of the annexe room where refreshments were being served. After everything she had been forced to process in the last few moments, she felt she needed some refreshment to steady her nerves. The overwhelming sensations and feelings passing through her in that instant were too much to bear.

  Claire hurried across the floor to the refreshment room, relieved to find that Mr Hawkins was not there. She picked up a drink and held it in both her hands, cradling the glass and taking slow, measured sips. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked directly ahead of her, trying to fathom out just what she should do now.

  Mr Hawkins had invited her to a secret rendezvous. This was, in many respects, a confirmation of all the fears Grace had been giving voice to over the last few days. Claire knew the man to be bold and impetuous, given his decision to run off to Europe with little money or prospects. Still, she was shocked that the man could be so bold as to ask for her hand in a second dance and, more so, that he had requested the honour of her presence alone. She worked in vain to figure it all out.

  What made her decision all the harder, was the slight suggestion of a challenge that came from Mr Hawkins when he had asked her to meet him. He clearly knew there was a chance that Claire would not turn up. He seemed to challenge Claire’s independence and sense of adventure when he said he would understand her not meeting him at the suggested time.

  Claire thought of all the heroines and characters from her books. She knew they were all characters of fiction, but that didn’t mean she could not use them as examples. All stories, after all, reflected real life to some degree. The heroines in those stories all went through a moment where they had to step out of their comfort zone, and take some kind of risk in trusting the man who would ultimately prove to be their true love. More than this, Claire’s own sisters had both been forced to take leaps of faith when securing their own happiness. Claire remembered spending days pleading with Grace to not give up her pursuit of the Duke of Cromford, after a disastrous argument between them had almost caused them to part ways forever. Then there was her eldest sister, Rosalie, who had run away from her fiancé to find happiness with her true heart’s desire, Peter Farrell. Could she ignore the steps her own sisters had taken to find their happiness? Though Grace seemed to advocate caution, Claire knew it was only by throwing caution to the wind that her siblings had found love and contentment.

  The more Claire considered matters, the more she found her mind leaning towards accepting Mr Hawkins’ proposed rendezvous. Risky though such a meeting could be, she was not prepared to believe the man had any dishonourable intent. When framed in that light, Claire could only assume that his desire to be alone with her meant he wished to propose. If this were the case, it would be the worst thing to deny him the meeting he craved with her. Although, if he did mean to propose, Claire knew she had no idea what her answer might be. Were she to follow the example of the heroines in her novels, she should be filled with a desire to accept the man, at once. Still, even for all her reading and fairy tale imaginings, Claire felt somewhat uncertain about accepting a man she had known for less than a fortnight. Even if they had spent every day in each other’s company, and even if he had proven to have all the traits she desired in a man, it was still too short an acquaintance by half.

  Tossed about on a swirling tide of emotion and contradictory impulses, Claire wiled away the minutes till nine o’clock. She stuck to the annexe rooms, not wanting her sister, brother-in-law, or Lord Dalton to see her. If approached by any of them, Claire knew they would spot her unease at once. Though well-meaning, they would no doubt look to coddle her and then she would lose the opportunity of sneaking out of the assembly, unnoticed. It was not as if she could tell anyone about it. Even if, as she suspected, Mr Hawkins intended to propose to her, it was more than likely that her family and friends would object to her meeting him outside and alone.

  When the hands of clocks read five to nine, Claire moved to the entryway of the assembly rooms. Mercifully, the musicians were in their element, and the revellers were engaged in a lively dance that seemed to hold the entire room captivated. Everyone was clapping in time to the music and watching the dancers as they breathlessly tried to keep pace with the old country tune.

  Seizing the moment, Claire hurried to the open door of the hall and slipped out into the night.

  Chapter 10

  The air outside the assembly rooms was cool and refreshing. A light summer breeze drifted through the columned entryway and caused Claire to shudder. She had left the party without her shawl and could feel the exposed skin along her back and arms breaking out in goose bumps. She looked about her, hoping to find Mr Hawkins standing near to the entrance in easy view. Glancing to both her left and right, she quickly ascertained that this was not the case.

  Steeling herself by taking a deep breath, Claire lifted her skirts and began to walk down the stone steps of the building and onto the street. Around her, carriages belonging to the various guests were all neatly lined up. Drivers and servants cast her concerned looks as she navigated her way through them. Claire tried to make herself scarce, shrinking to as small a height as she could manage. Still, it was impossible to appear inconspicuous when walking the benighted streets in an elegant ball gown.

  “Do you need any help, Miss?”

  One of the drivers stepped out of the shadows where he was smoking a pipe. Thankfully, he was not one of the duke’s men and would not know who sh
e was, to report her to her sister or aunt.

  “No… thank you, I am just in need of a little air. It is so stuffy in the assembly hall.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t be coming outside alone, Miss, if it is not too bold to be saying.”

  “Of course, you are quite right.” Claire gave a nervous laugh and began to twine her fingers behind her back as she tried to maintain some sense of decorum. “I promise you need not worry for me. I shall only look to take a stroll around the square here and then I shall return indoors.”

  “Very good. Be sure to stay under the street lights though, Miss.”

  Claire gave a perfunctory smile and continued on her way.

  Venturing over to the far side of the street, Claire began to wonder if perhaps Mr Hawkins had not come out to meet her at all. He was nowhere to be seen at the entrance to the hall, nor near the fountain in the town square. Claire forced herself to continue past these points, heading over to the farther side of the square, where the buildings began to be taken over by domiciles and shops, most with their curtains drawn shut. The light about her was dimming fast, and shadows seemed to creep all about her. A wave of fear passed over her, but Claire conquered her qualms and forced her feet to continue forward. She told herself that she would complete her lap of the square. If she could not find Mr Hawkins anywhere amongst the fringes of the centre of town, she would return to the party, and that would be the end of it.

  A sound caught her attention. Just as Claire made the furthest point of the town square, she heard her name quietly spoken from some shadowed corner.

  “Miss Curtis… you came.”

  “Mr Hawkins?” Claire recognised the voice, but something felt amiss and out of place. It seemed strange to her that the man should hide away out of sight from her as he did. “Mr Hawkins, will you come forward into the light, please. I do not think it will be good for either of us if we are seen venturing down some darkened alleyway together at this time of night. It is daring enough even meeting like this together….”

  Relief spread over Claire’s features as the man stepped out from the shadows. He wore his familiar confident and easy smile, not seeming at all troubled by the idea of meeting with her alone in the dark.

  Bathed in the orange glow of the street lights, Mr Hawkins looked quite handsome, but Claire found it hard to concentrate on his many positive qualities when the fear of being caught alone with him still loomed large in her mind.

  “I had hoped you might take a walk with me down to the nearby river. The moonlight plays beautifully upon the water’s surface and lights up the whole area in a silver glow that cannot help but stir the soul…” Mr Hawkins’ eyes narrowed. “Still, I can see that just being out here like this leaves you nervous. I should… I should be thankful that you were willing to step out of the boundaries set by your sister to meet with me like this.”

  “As you said yourself, I do not wish to find my life decided for me by others. Still, I do not think it wise for us to linger out here overlong. You said before that there was something you wished to say to me. I would advise you to say it quickly before our absence is noticed.”

  Mr Hawkins nodded. Moving forward, he reached out a hand, bringing it to caress Claire’s cheek. The action set her trembling, and her mouth opened just a little.

  “Miss Curtis,” he began, “Since the moment I met you, I was impressed with your vivacity and colour. While I try to find joy, light and life in all I observe in the world, I so often find my fellow man to offer nothing but shades of grey. For so long, I assumed I was the only soul for whom words and poetry meant so much. Finding you, discovering your passion and love for art and the human spirit… it was a revelation.”

  “I… I thank you for that. I must admit, it was something of a breath of fresh air to find myself speaking with someone who seemed to share my passion for stories and fiction.”

  “For myself, I believe the world of fiction to hold far more truth than any you might find by simply living in the real world. Just because a story is not true, it does not necessarily follow that its message is in any way invalid or worthless.”

  Claire smiled, but then her eyes shifted to the assembly room again. “Much as I would love to talk more on these ponderings, perhaps we should save them for another time. It really cannot be long before we are missed.”

  “Very true,” Mr Hawkins replied. He moved closer still, as they stood in the half dark. The hand, that moments before had been caressing her cheek, now moved down Claire’s arm. The way his fingers stroked her skin was at once pleasing and terrifying. It sent electric shivers through her and Claire had to work hard to maintain her sense of self and her right mind.

  “Miss Curtis, I am but a poor and humble writer. Were it not for the patronage of Lady Helen, I am quite aware I would have nothing by way of fortune or prospects to recommend me. Nonetheless, after the time we have spent together, I know you are not the sort who values wealth and titles over passion and emotion. Miss Curtis… Claire, would you do me the very great honour of consenting to be my wife?”

  It was exactly as Claire had suspected. Her heart skipped a beat as, at last, she knew this was indeed a proposal. As her novels and storybooks would have it, now was the time for her to answer Mr Hawkins’ feelings with some sentimental and poignant speech. She felt quite low and ignorant when all words failed her. She struggled even to formulate a single sentence. It was as if the entire dictionary held inside her head had been burned up and she could now only answer in vague, mumbling grunts. As she tried desperately to formulate even a single word, her emotions wavered.

  As though sensing her distress, Hawkins wrapped his arms around Claire’s waist, drawing her towards him. Claire’s breath hitched as she saw his face was now inches from hers. She did not try to resist him. Instead, she looked up into his eyes, as though waiting for him to tell her what she should say next, to guide her to the words that she for some reason could not conjure.

  “Sometimes, even words are not enough to do true justice to a moment.” Mr Hawkins’ words were a seductive whisper, and Claire sucked in a breath through her slightly parted lips as he drew closer to her still. She did not quite know what power had taken over her, but she let her body be guided by her natural and base instinct. As Mr Hawkins’ body drew closer to her, she reacted in kind. Her eyes, which were already half-lidded, closed – and the next thing she felt was a soft pressure upon her lips.

  “Claire!”

  Her name rang out as a shout across the square. Before she could even take the time to appreciate the sensation of her first kiss, Claire found her lips torn from Mr Hawkins. She froze in place, her hitherto closed eyes suddenly open and wide. She looked as panicked as a doe caught in a snare, and she wished to all the powers in the universe that Mr Hawkins would have let her go at that moment. She knew she had been seen, knew that the circumstances were against them both. Still, if Mr Hawkins had let her go in that instant, they might have had a chance of reasoning with those who had come to check them.

  With Mr Hawkins’ hand still on her waist, Claire turned her face to whoever had come for her. The voice that had called out at first belonged to her sister. Claire flinched when she saw who else had come out into the streets looking for her. Lady Helen, Aunt Lynch, and the duke were there, standing just behind Grace. However, it was the presence of Lord Dalton, standing just at the entryway of the assembly rooms, that affected Claire most. She did not know why, but she found the look he gave her in that moment terrible beyond all reason. The earl’s lips were drawn, and the muscles in his face were tight. His whole body was held rigid and straight, and Claire almost thought he was struggling against himself. There was a suggestion of unchecked power yearning to be let out. The muscles in his arms were drawn tight like a bowstring ready to unleash an arrow. It scared her to see him like that, and she found she could not look him in the eye as he stared at her from across the way.

  “Ruben! Ruben, unhand that girl at once!” Lady Helen’s voice was surpris
ingly fierce, and her angered tone seemed to come as a surprise to the gentleman. His brow knotted and when he opened his mouth to speak, no words came out. It was quite possible that he had anticipated Lady Helen being an ally in his endeavour to court Claire. Certainly, the dowager had given a reason for him to suspect she approved the match. She always seemed to be making jests about the way the two acted around one another. Her harsh voice and the way her wrinkled face bunched up, made it clear that she took no pleasure in seeing her protégé clinging to Claire.

  “You heard your patron,” Cromford said, gritting his teeth. The man’s voice was low and threatening. In all the time Claire had known the duke, she had never seen this side of him. She might have been frightened by it, were it not for her having already seen the way Lord Dalton was looking at her and Mr Hawkins from across the street.

  Seeming to understand the hopelessness of his position, Mr Hawkins drew two steps back from Claire and straightened up. His body seemed to shake a little under the gaze of Cromford and Dalton. It should hardly have been surprising. Mr Hawkins was a man of no great physical prowess. Both the duke and the earl could easily overpower him if it came to a brawl. Still, the poet made some attempt to rally himself. He straightened his back and took a deep breath that puffed out his chest just a little.

  “Lady Helen, Duke… I know how this might appear, but I promise you there is no impropriety or–”

  “You will hold your tongue, young man!” Once again, Lady Helen’s fierce tone was enough to disarm the poet, and he seemed to slink back several steps more.

  “Please, Lady Helen. I assure you that–”

  “You will not speak either,” Grace interjected before Claire could make any attempt at defending Mr Hawkins.

  “We are engaged to be married.” Mr Hawkins blurted out the words in some hurry, perhaps hoping the declaration would be enough to give his detractors pause.