Rogues to Riches (Books 1-6)

by Ridley, Erica

  He tried to look away from Faith but her despondent expression only reflected back at him from the carriage windows.

  This was not her fault. She was far from perfect, but so was he. If he was miserable, he’d managed to ruin their relationship all by himself.

  The news of Christina’s existence still made him dizzy. But he had to stop allowing Faith’s deception to make him angry. She had made the decision a decade ago, but she’d been living with the aftermath ever since.

  A ruined spinster with a child that would never know her mother. He lowered his head. Punishing her further would be far beyond excessive.

  It was time to move forward. To create a future far different from their past.

  “We’re here.” Faith practically leapt from the coach moments after it turned onto the road leading to her parents’ house.

  Hawk was not nearly as excited to follow her inside. He had not made a positive impression the first time he had met the Digbys or any day since. His stomach was too knotted to be hungry.

  When he followed his new wife inside her parents’ home, Hawk was delighted to spy his brother standing just outside the archway to the dining room. The sole friendly face amidst a panoply that ranged from suspicious to devastated.

  At least, he hoped his half-brother was still friendly toward him. If Christina’s existence had been a shock to Hawk, to Simon it would have been tangible proof that Hawk was no better than their father.

  His steps slowed. He would not blame Simon for being unable to forgive him for repeating the same history that had caused Simon such pain. Hawk could not even forgive himself.

  “I’m trying to make this right,” he said to his brother in lieu of a greeting. “I have yet to find a right answer, but I swear to you I am trying.”

  Simon’s gaze went somewhere over Hawk’s left shoulder. “Let us not discuss the choices you have made. But if I ever hear you refer to Christina as a ‘mistake’, then so help me God I will—”

  “Never,” Hawk said quickly. “I have made countless mistakes, but she is not one of them.”

  Simon nodded. “It will not be easy. I do not envy you.”

  “I envy you,” Hawk muttered. “Your life seems so easy in comparison.”

  “Does it?” This time, Simon’s smile reached his eyes. “Feeding four-and-twenty schoolgirls, chasing after my wife, drowning in case files…”

  “Perhaps not ‘easy,’” Hawk allowed with a laugh. “But you have a path. A plan. You know which direction you’re going. That’s what I’m trying to forge as well.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I am often stumbling about in the dark.”

  “Unlikely,” Hawk scoffed. “With what?”

  Simon lifted a shoulder. “For example, I am no closer today to determining which, if any, of Maxwell Gideon’s surreptitious dealings are legal and which are not. His reputation as a ruthless blackguard has made some believe he would not hesitate to manipulate and coerce others if it resulted in more profit for him.”

  Hawk’s shoulders tightened. Once again, he was caught between loyalty to his brother and to a long-time friend.

  No matter how ruthlessly Maxwell Gideon controlled his business, complete and informed consent was a primary requirement of every contract he signed. Hawk shook his head. Even though his own money was no longer at risk, he would not take part in casting doubt on another man’s reputation.

  Was Gideon a blackguard? Without question. But Gideon was also a pathologically fair one. His word was his bond, and absolutely unshakable.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to his brother. “I cannot help you. To the best of my knowledge, every deal Gideon has brokered is completely legal, even if the details aren’t public.”

  Simon returned his gaze for a long moment before responding. “Then I am at a crossroads.”

  Hawk hesitated. “If anyone knows Maxwell Gideon secrets, it is your brother-in-law. Grenville knows everyone’s secrets. But you will need far more than mere good fortune to wrest it out of him.”

  “I know.” Simon sighed. “I’ve tried.”

  Hawk lifted a shoulder in sympathy. Heath Grenville was damnably good at his job. No matter how Hawk might have wished otherwise. He furrowed his brow.

  Perhaps his brother’s life was not nearly as straightforward as he had assumed. Not only was Simon’s investigation not going as smoothly as he hoped, Hawk had swooped in and inadvertently redirected dowry money that had been earmarked for the school. He winced. Simon would be well within his rights to be more than disgruntled with him.

  “About Faith’s dowry,” Hawk began.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Simon said quickly. “The transfer had already gone through before I learned it was underway, and they managed to spend every penny within a matter of hours. Contracting repairs for the school, new clothes for the girls, books for the library, staples for the pantry. All I can tell you is that every shilling was lovingly spent for a noble cause.”

  Hawk’s brain barely processed his brother’s words.

  The dowry was gone.

  Not only did it not come to him, it had already been spent. The guilt he had glimpsed in Faith’s eyes was not because her marriage to him would deprive orphans of new shoes, but because he would not be receiving a farthing at all.

  Hawk’s pulse pounded in his ears. His port would not be opening early. There was no money for paying debts, for paying rents, for food and clothing. No money for doctors to treat his sick mother.

  No money at all.

  Fury surged through his veins. Faith knew, and hadn’t seen fit to tell him. She’d done it on purpose.

  “She gave it away?” he rasped in disbelief. “She told her parents not to give me the dowry?”

  Simon winced. “They didn’t rescind it from you personally, if it makes a difference. Faith convinced them to donate her dowry to the school before you had proposed marriage.”

  Hawk hadn’t proposed. Hadn’t courted Faith at all, then or now. What dibs did he have on a dowry that had been promised to orphans? None.

  His eyes blurred at the irony. If Hawk would have paid a visit to her father back when he had first intended to, he and Mr. Digby would have signed a contract. The dowry money would not have been a mere cultural norm, but a legal obligation.

  By securing a special license and using Faith’s permission as a woman of majority in her own right, Hawk had completely bypassed the step of formally asking for her hand.

  This was what his arrogance deserved. But that did not change their circumstances. Without Faith’s dowry…

  How would he afford to provide for his new family at all?

  Chapter 22

  Faith gripped her daughter’s hand as Hawkridge’s carriage pulled to a stop. Arriving at his temporary London townhouse didn’t feel like a homecoming. It felt like stepping out of her own life and into someone else’s.

  She didn’t feel like a marchioness. Her very presence seemed out of place, like she was a tired old gewgaw that ought to be swept back into the attic where such trinkets belonged. This wasn’t her home or Christina’s.

  It wasn’t even Lord Hawkridge’s.

  For her daughter’s sake, she pasted on a delighted expression as if becoming mistress of someone else’s rented townhouse was jolly sport.

  Faith dreaded stepping inside not because she and Christina would be alone with Hawkridge, but because they would not.

  His mother, they had been told, was too ill to attend the wedding. Regardless of the dowager marchioness’s health, Faith suspected Hawkridge’s mother would sooner lock herself in an ivory tower than witness him pledge himself to a nobody. Particularly not to the common bit of baggage she had warned her son against a decade ago.

  Back then, Faith had still been hopeful enough and naïve enough to believe such differences didn’t matter. That of course she could be a marchioness equal to any other. Someday win her mother-in-law’s respect and love, as well as her husband’s.

  She was no lo
nger the silly creature she once had been.

  When the driver who had handed Christina and her out of the carriage dashed ahead of them up the walkway to open the door and welcome them into their home, it took Faith a moment to realize the young man had not lost his mind.

  He was John the footman, the driver, the butler, and likely more.

  No matter. Faith knew what it was like not to have servants at all. And although Christina had been raised in comfort, she had not been taught airs. Faith pressed her lips together and lifted her chin in determination. They would be fine. If anything, it should be a relief not to have to manage a large house.

  Inside the entranceway to the townhouse, Hawkridge gazed at them in obvious discomfort. “Do you… Are you hungry? I can have the maid—”

  Faith shook her head.

  “We’ve just come from the wedding breakfast.” This was true, although of the three of them, Christina was the only one who had enjoyed the repast. “Please don’t have her go to any extra trouble on our behalf.”

  Hawkridge stared back at her for a long moment. “Should you change your mind, this house is yours to command.”

  Except it was not. If his awkwardness was any indication, Hawkridge certainly meant well. But any house with so few servants and an obviously limited budget meant that Faith would be far wiser to ask which meals could be scared up from the larder than to attempt to impose her will upon a meager pantry.

  “Christina, may I show you to your room?” Hawkridge asked their daughter.

  Christina’s hazel eyes gazed up over the Grandmother Doll and Grandfather Doll clasped to her chest. “Does it have a window?”

  Hawkridge’s obvious relief would have been amusing had their situation been different. “It does. Your chambers have the best windows in the entire townhouse.”

  Christina nodded. “Then I like it. Do the play chambers have windows too?”

  Hawkridge’s eyes met Faith’s over the top of Christina’s head.

  She took pity. “This is a temporary townhouse, darling. Remember? There’s no nursery or schoolroom here. But you do have a bedchamber with the very best windows.”

  “I want to see them.” Christina held up her dolls. “Grandmother Doll and Grandfather Doll want to see them too.”

  “Then, this way, if you please.” Hawkridge led them up a simple stairway leading to the next floor. “Your valises will be right up. I shall be honored to give you the grand tour in the meantime.”

  Faith followed her daughter and her husband up the stairs to the sleeping quarters, where her mother-in-law presumably also resided.

  How did it feel to have one’s childhood fantasy finally realized?

  She was a marchioness. His marchioness. And it made her want to cry. This was not what she had wanted, for herself, for him. She wanted the fairy story. Had expected it. But fate had held other plans.

  She hung back to give Hawkridge a chance to bond with his daughter.

  Christina was suitably impressed with her bedroom windows. The huge square in front of the Digby house was just visible in the far corner.

  Before they had left for the wedding that morning, her parents had offered to decorate the townhouse with anything Faith lacked. Chandeliers, books, Egyptian artifacts, anything at all.

  But it was already April, and this was a rented apartment Hawkridge didn’t even intend to keep. In a few months, the Season would be over. Where would she and Christina be then?

  “So you did it despite my warning,” came a disgusted voice from the corridor. “You always were too selfish and self-important to consider how your actions reflect on others.”

  Faith whirled to face Hawkridge’s mother. “Don’t speak to him like that.”

  “I wasn’t,” the dowager answered coldly. Pointedly.

  Faith’s cheeks flushed. She laid a protective hand on Christina’s shoulder.

  Hawkridge stepped forward, his voice a low growl. “Mother.”

  The pale-cheeked dowager coughed into a stained handkerchief. “What can I do? My feelings have never been important in this family, so why should hers be any different?”

  “That is enough,” Hawkridge said firmly. “You should be resting.”

  “I agree.” She swayed and gripped the doorframe as if the floor had begun to pitch with the tide. “This is nothing to get out of bed for.”

  Faith quickly revised her plans. There is no point in insincerely attempting to win her mother-in-law over. All she and Christina could do was to be compassionate, be themselves, and hope for the best.

  The sudden wedding had been a shock to all of them. And Faith had dreaded it just as much as her mother-in-law.

  “Christina, I would like to introduce you to my mother, the dowager marchioness, Lady Hawkridge.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “She’s very sorry she was too ill to attend the ceremony.”

  Christina frowned. “I thought Aunt Faith was Lady Hawkridge now. Is she the same as your mother?”

  “That chit is nothing like me,” the dowager spat in fury, pointing a trembling pale finger at Faith. “I would have refused to attend that wedding even if I weren’t sick. I regret living to see a commoner rule over the respectable estate I once managed.”

  Chapter 23

  Hawk rolled his head, trying to work out a kink in his neck.

  A sleepless night tossing restlessly on the settee in his study was not how he dreamed he’d begin his marriage. But things between him and Faith were already complicated enough. They would need to figure out how to share each other’s lives before either of them was ready to share the marriage bed.

  He made his way to the dining room and brightened considerably to discover Christina seated at the head of the table with a towering pile of toasted bread.

  Rather than rush into the room and disturb her, he took a moment to observe her from the shadowed corridor. His heart flipped.

  Hawk had broken his fast alone for as long as he could remember. Neither of his parents could be roused before noon, and there had been no other siblings living in the house.

  In all his imaginings of one day sharing ordinary moments like these with the woman who would become his wife, it had not occurred to him that it would perhaps bring even greater delight to share rashers and eggs with a child.

  Just as he was about to cross into the dining room and present himself, a hand brushed against his elbow.

  He jumped.

  It was Faith. Of course it was Faith. The servants would never touch him. He had just been so focused on dining with his daughter that he hadn’t heard footsteps approach from behind.

  He turned to face her. “Lady Hawkridge. I trust you slept well.”

  “I woke up alone.” The voice was hesitant, her eyes confused.

  “I didn’t wish to wake you.”

  “I was awake half the night waiting for you.” She tilted her head to regard him, keeping her voice low so their words would not carry to the breakfast room. “Either I fell asleep before you arrived, or you never came to consummate the marriage.”

  “We consummated a decade ago,” he said dryly. He met her eyes to allow her to see the sincerity of his next words. “I have spent every night since dreaming of making love to you again, Faith. I shan’t come to your bed until that’s exactly what we are doing.”

  She swallowed visibly but did not lower her eyes. “It is breakfast time. Have you eaten?”

  The question was far from an invitation to her bedchamber, but at least she had not scoffed at the idea of one day truly making love. A small victory, but there had been so few of them recently that Hawk was quite willing to take it.

  “I was just about to go in,” he said. “Care to join us?”

  He started to proffer his arm then hesitated. The sight of his daughter had put him in too good a mood to have it spoiled by his wife refusing to take his elbow or recoiling from his touch. A rush of emotion made him dizzy with hope. Just this once, it would be lovely to dine as a family.

  “I ca
nnot stay.” Faith backed away from him. “I am needed at the school unless…” Her eyes filled with dismay. “You wouldn’t forbid me from volunteering my time, would you?”

  Hawk spirits dipped. He tried again. “I hope to never forbid you from anything. If you would like to continue volunteering, you are more than free to do so for as long as we remain in London.”

  Her eyes dimmed at the reminder of their time limit. “Perhaps I’ll wait until Christina is done with breakfast so that I can drop her at her grandparents’ house on my way to the school. Unless you require the coach? I am happy to take a hack instead.”

  He raised his brows. “I’ll take you to the school myself. Christina will not be going to her grandparents.”

  “Of course she will. Chris stays with them whenever she’s not with me.” Faith frowned at him. “They enjoy their days together.”

  His smile was bleak. “I am certain they do. They shall continue to have such days, but today is not one of them. I, too, expect to spend time with my daughter.”

  “Ward,” Faith hissed, casting a speaking glance in the direction of the dining table.

  “With my ward,” Hawk amended. He would take more care in the distinction. “Today while you are at the school, Christina will be with me.”

  Faith shook her head. “I am not certain that is a good idea. She is not used to you.”

  “How can she ever be, if we do not begin getting used to each other?” he asked reasonably. “I do not wish to argue with you. But I also do not require your permission.”

  “I could stay home,” Faith said quickly. “I could take her to see her grandparents myself.”

  “You could,” he agreed, “if you wish to cease volunteering at the school and thus prevent your parents from their special time alone with Christina. Is that what you intend?”

  She glared at him in disgust. “You know it is not.”

  “Then we are in agreement.” He strode into the dining room and paused to look over his shoulder. “Christina and I will be happy to take you to the school after breakfast, unless you prefer to take a hack.”