Rogues to Riches (Books 1-6): Box Set Collection

by Erica Ridley

“You know how we old matrons are,” Hawk agreed. “Babies, babies, babies.”

  Simon laughed, blissfully ignorant of how badly Hawk wished he were in any position to start a family. He had always dreamed of being the sort of husband his father had failed to be.

  To Hawk, marriage could be so much more than a cold business arrangement. A wife he loved and doted upon. Someone whose company he enjoyed outside of strained silent meals and requisite nocturnal visits to beget an heir. Likewise, fatherhood meant being there for one’s child from the first day. Not only when it suited him, as their father had treated Simon. Nor be present only when one was obligated to, as their father had treated Hawk.

  He intended to do it right.

  “Splendid.” Simon straightened the ribbon on his bouquet of primroses. “I’m sure Dahlia will be thrilled to have a guest at the dinner table.”

  “And if she isn’t?” Hawk asked.

  Simon grinned wickedly. “If she isn’t, then it will be just deserts. I have been the lone male in an abbey full of females for long enough. It is past time to even the odds.”

  Hawk narrowed his eyes. “That’s right, you said ‘headmistresses.’ Plural. Is one of Dahlia’s sisters helping with the school?”

  “Camellia is far too busy with the opera, and Bryony…” Simon gave a theatrical shudder. “Can you imagine putting Bryony Grenville in charge of shaping impressionable young minds?”

  “Fair point.” Hawk inclined his head in agreement. “One incorrigible hoyden is more than enough.”

  Simon shook his head. “Fortunately, we have Faith.”

  Hawk’s heart skipped. Did Simon just say… No, of course he did not. Hawk’s overeager mind had simply misunderstood.

  “Faith in the children?” he asked cautiously. “Faith in each other?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Simon waved a hand. “I meant Faith Digby. The other headmistress.”

  Faith Digby.

  Time in the gambling salon seemed to stall, curlicues of smoke freezing midair, the clink of glasses and the slap of cards drowned out by the sudden rushing in Hawk’s ears.

  “Faith…Digby?” he repeated hoarsely.

  Simon nodded. “She’s not only Dahlia’s closest friend, but also an exemplary headmistress. If it weren’t for Faith’s oversight and administration, the school might not be in operation today. She is the star of the show.”

  She also starred in every one of Hawk’s recurring dreams.

  The one where he stole their first kiss under a moonlit summer night. The one where he realized he was falling head-over-heels in love. The one where he walked away from the best moments of his life, never to lay eyes on her again.

  “Faith Digby?” Hawk echoed faintly. “She’ll be at your dinner table this very night?”

  “Er…” Simon tilted his head in question. “My keen investigative senses are telling me you may have already made this young lady’s acquaintance.”

  “You should get a promotion,” Hawk said. “Nothing escapes a Bow Street Runner.”

  Simon frowned. “My wife thinks the world of Miss Digby. I must admit that I and every one of our students do, too. Have you some reason to dislike her?”

  “None at all.” Hawk’s words flew from him in a rush. “She’s an angel. You truly could not have found better. She’s everything that I… That is to say… There’s a tiny bit of history there you may not be aware of.”

  Simon crossed his arms. “I’m listening.”

  “A decade ago, I may have implied our secret courtship was leading to marriage,” Hawk admitted. “And then broke off all contact.”

  “You what?” Simon stared at him as if he’d sprouted horns and a tail.

  Much like Hawk saw himself in the looking-glass every morning.

  “Not my finest moment,” he said quickly. “I regretted it immediately. If it makes a difference, I had just turned eighteen—”

  “It does not make a difference.” Simon reared back in horror. “One does not callously break one’s word—or a young lady’s heart. What could possibly excuse such unforgivable behavior?”

  “I cannot excuse it. No one could. But there is an explanation.” Hawk took a deep breath. “Our father.”

  “Our father died before you turned eighteen,” Simon said with a frown.

  Hawk nodded. “And spent every penny of the marquessate before he went. Worse than that. He opened lines of credit he could never hope to pay with every vendor and shopkeeper in England, and shamelessly abused their goodwill. The debts he incurred in the pursuits of pleasure are nothing short of astronomical.”

  Simon grimaced. “I had no idea.”

  “Neither did I. No one did.” Hawk rubbed his face. “Except my guardian. Until I reached my majority, an uncle oversaw the marquessate. And what he saw was that there was a short window of opportunity to squeeze even more credit from unsuspecting vendors before the entire house of cards came crashing down. By the time I gained control of the title, it was already too late.”

  “And Faith?” Simon narrowed his eyes. “What role had she to play in this?”

  “None. She is blameless,” Hawk said with feeling. “I wanted nothing more than to wed her. To marry for love. To raise the kind of family children are supposed to have. A home filled with love.”

  Simon frowned. “Then why didn’t you?”

  “I could not afford to.” Hawk groaned. “Much as it killed me. She was lower class and poor, and I was upper class and completely indigent. Not only was that not at all the sort of life I would ever offer her, our union was financially out of the question. I was forced to begin a hunt for an heiress bride the very next day.”

  “And you walked away from Faith without a single word of explanation?” Simon asked incredulously.

  “Of course not.” Hawk winced at the memory. “I wrote her a letter.”

  “A letter,” Simon repeated in disbelief. “No doubt she loved that.”

  “She sent me to the devil and told me never to darken her door again,” Hawk admitted. “You can see how this makes your dinner invitation a wee bit awkward.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Simon said baldly. “I have a complete featherbrain for a brother.”

  “I was an idiot,” Hawk corrected. “Ten years ago. I was young and foolish and over my head with responsibilities and debts I never knew existed. If I could do it all over again…”

  Simon raised his brows. “If you could do it all over again?”

  Hawk didn’t answer.

  He could not have married Faith back then, no matter how much he wanted to. If he could go back in time, the honorable thing would have been never to court her to begin with. He could not provide for her then or now. She had always been better off without him.

  And yet the thought of losing a single stolen moment with her twisted a dagger in his heart.

  “I never got the chance to give her a proper apology. In person,” he added. “With real words. Out loud.”

  Simon stared at him. “And you think she’ll forgive you?”

  “No,” Hawk said honestly. “I wouldn’t, if I were her. But she deserves a heartfelt apology.”

  “I’ll say.” Simon shook his head. “Many, many apologies.”

  Hawk rubbed his face. “I’m just afraid that if I see her, if I speak to her, it will only make things even more complicated.”

  “Are they complicated?” Simon asked dryly. “You were horrible to her a decade ago. You realize this now. You’re sorry.”

  “But there’s no way to put it right.” That unfortunate reality had tortured Hawk for years. He had never meant to hurt her. And yet, he’d done exactly that. “It’s too late. Too much time has passed.”

  Simon was silent for a long moment.

  “Maybe not,” he said at last. “Look at us. We didn’t speak for nearly thirty years, and now…we’re brothers.”

  Hawk stared back at him, speechless.

  For so long, he had yearned to see Faith again. Now that the possibility wa
s at his fingertips, the idea terrified him. Not only might this be his one chance to apologize face-to-face, but also an opportunity to finally move on. To cease carrying a torch for a past they could never relive. He would give the long overdue explanation, and they would go their separate ways.

  Someday, he might even stop dreaming about her.

  “Am I still invited to supper?” he asked his brother.

  Simon let out a deep breath. “As long as you don’t upset Faith.”

  “I won’t force her to talk to me.” Hawk straightened his shoulders. “And I promise to leave at once if she throws anything at my face.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.” Simon glanced at his pocket watch. “Come. We’re going to be late.”

  Hawk tugged his threadbare riding gloves onto his hands. He had no open account to settle. “I’m ready.”

  Simon scooped up the primroses and rose from the table. “Meet me there?”

  “Be right behind you.” Hawk pushed to his feet and followed his brother out of the Cloven Hoof.

  Simon’s horse was tied to a post just outside, which meant he would make it home far faster than Hawk could navigate his old coach through the congested city.

  There was no time to go home to freshen up before heading to St. Giles. Besides, not only was Simon’s home in one of the poorest neighborhoods in London, Hawk was already wearing the finest outfit he owned.

  So be it. Perhaps evening coats and trousers that seemed shabby and unfashionable by Mayfair standards would seem positively glamorous in a rookery.

  He shook his head wryly. It had been years since last he was glamorous.

  But when his aging horses pulled the old carriage to a stop in front of his brother’s boarding school, a niggling doubt blossomed in Hawk’s gut.

  In a neighborhood like this, leaving one’s carriage behind could mean losing it forever. Even with a scrappy young driver inside, Hawk wasn’t completely certain the horses would still be attached when he came back out. And he couldn’t afford to replace them.

  He glanced around and forced his runaway worries to settle. Simon would not have put him in danger. In fact, if Hawk didn’t possess entailed properties, a neighborhood like this would perhaps be his home as well. He should not be so quick to judge.

  He turned toward the front steps, jaunty hat at a smart angle and walking stick in hand, when a sudden impulse caused him to turn back toward his driver and hand the young man the walking stick. Its hidden sword would be far more useful out here in the street than inside a school.

  Empty-handed, Hawk turned his back to his carriage and quickly made his way up the walk to the front steps of the boarding school and banged the knocker.

  When the door swung open, Hawk crossed a clean-swept threshold out of the soot-covered rookery and into another world.

  The butler was not a portly old fellow with ruddy cheeks and a pompous air, as Hawk was used to, but rather a slip of a girl of no more than twelve years of age, possessed of pointy elbows, crooked teeth, and the brightest smile Hawk had ever seen. He could not help but return her grin.

  Despite the crumbling brick comprising the façade of the building, the interior of the school was bright, clean, cheery, and open. Because it had been converted from an old abbey, the architecture boasted flourishes like decorative moldings and beautiful arches.

  He shrugged out of his greatcoat. A crackling fire was just visible through the corridor connecting the next room. The murmur of animated voices and muted laughter bubbled from the other side.

  Hawk willingly relinquished his hat and coat to the girl-butler, and then followed eagerly toward the salon containing the voices.

  It had been years since he had shared a family meal with anyone but his mother, who often preferred to dine alone in her private quarters. With luck, moments like these with his half-brother and wife would not be a one-time occurrence, but rather the new normal.

  He nervously straightened his waistcoat. The only thing better than having a brother would be having a brother he could count as a friend. A cozy dinner with Simon and Dahlia was exactly the step needed to set their awkward little trio off in the perfect direction.

  Except tonight, there would be a third party at the table. A third party who belonged even more than Hawk did. A third party who might have forgotten him altogether, although she had never left his heart for a moment. A woman he’d dreamed of for ten long years.

  When Hawk rounded the corner, he came face-to-face with his past.

  Faith.

  A jolt of recognition immediately gave way to a sudden rush of longing. It had been years, but Hawk had never forgotten her face. Or the color of her eyes. Or the scent of her hair. Or the soft feel of her skin as he’d curled against her after lovemaking. Or how right she had always felt in his arms.

  His heart flipped as years’ worth of regret and yearning surged within him. She was so different, yet the effect was the same. Being near her was the closest to heaven he had ever been.

  By the shocked horror in her eyes, she had not forgotten that when his advisors forbade the match, he had not been able to choose love, and instead had walked away from the only happiness he had ever found.

  Dahlia leapt protectively between them.

  “What the devil is he doing here?” she snarled at her husband.

  Simon frowned in obvious confusion at the sudden layer of ice blanketing the once-warm room. “Hawkridge? I invited him. He’s family.”

  “He is not my family. And he is certainly nothing to Faith.” Dahlia’s eyes flashed as she linked arms with the lost love Hawk should never have left ten long years ago.

  “His presence means nothing to me,” Faith said with bored indifference as she took a seat at the ancient oak table.

  The insult of her words indicated his presence very much meant an interminable evening of pain and humiliation for her, and she wished for him to know. He tightened his jaw. The lack of blood in her now pale face would have sent that message even if she had not spoken.

  But what was the right path? If Hawk left now, he would certainly never be invited back. But if he stayed… He might tarnish this fragile connection even further.

  “Hawkridge is family,” Simon announced firmly as he took his seat at the head of the table. “If I can forgive all the wrongs in our past and create a relationship where before there was none, then certainly my wife and my friend can share an hour’s meal in polite civility with my brother.”

  Dahlia sniffed, not bothering to hide her skepticism. “We will discuss this later.”

  “We certainly will. He’s my brother.” Simon held out an open palm toward an empty seat. “My apologies, Hawkridge. Won’t you join us at the table?”

  Hawk clenched his jaw. Simon had done nothing wrong. Hawk had created the rift a decade ago.

  Faith Digby had every reason to hate him.

  Not a day had gone by since then when he hadn’t wondered how differently things might’ve worked out if he had made different choices. He would not be any richer, of course. The marquessate would still be in danger of collapse and ruin. His father would still be dead, his mother would still be disappointed in him, and there wouldn’t be a single society invitation on their mantel.

  But he would have had Faith. A wife. Love.

  No. Hawk’s stomach churned with regret. Faith deserved better. She had always wanted a family and Hawk still couldn’t afford to give her one. He had ruined the moment back then, but at least he had not ruined her life.

  She was free to find someone else. Someone better. He had lain with her, yes, but that was a secret only the two of them knew.

  Gentlemanly manners dictated that he make an honest woman of her. At the time, there had been nothing Hawk had wanted more. He had confessed his love to her as well as his intention to inform his guardian in the morning. And follow that encounter with a meeting with her father, in which Hawk had fully intended to beg for her hand on bended knee if need be.

  But Hawk’s guardian was
his self-serving, vainglorious uncle, who had more than forbidden the unequal match. He castigated Hawk for his duty to his family, to the title, to the marquessate, to their name.

  His uncle had called him stupid to consider even for a moment marriage to a chit as common as Faith. His mother had agreed, tearfully pointing out that Faith had been spawned from a family to whom a connection would make the Hawkridges a laughingstock. His advisors confessed that the point was moot—Hawk could not afford to marry for love. Not with the estate’s ballooning debts beggaring them all. They’d be lucky not to be chased out of England.

  Each word had been a painful reminder of where his duties lay. He was now Lord Hawkridge. His wife must be his equal in society. Good blood, good family, even better connections. And above all, wealthy. The fate of the marquessate depended on Hawk making a brilliant match. The breaking of his heart—or hers—was inconsequential.

  Love was for common people. Duty was for noblemen.

  So here they were.

  “Thank you,” Hawk said, hoping his voice did not relay the turmoil within.

  He took a seat because this might be the last time he saw his half-brother and his sister-in-law. And would undoubtedly be the last time he saw Faith.

  Even though she clearly hated him, his love for her came rushing back a thousand-fold with every stolen glance in her direction. He’d never forgotten her. Not for a single night. Perhaps this was a sign that he could finally give her the apology she’d been owed for ten long years.

  His chest grew tight. As the years had gone by, the apology had become harder and harder to make. A dragon that could never be slain. A confrontation best avoided.

  Until now.

  Chapter 2

  Faith Digby’s fingers trembled far too violently to risk lifting her teacup and saucer for a calming sip of chamomile. With this many butterflies in her stomach, she doubted she’d ever feel tranquil again. The last person she had ever expected to see sat three feet away from her on the other side of the dinner table.

  Zachary Nash, Lord Hawkridge.

  Her skin had prickled before he’d even walked into the room, as if her body had sensed his presence like a flower senses the sun.