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

by Erica Ridley

  “Go away,” Dahlia whispered under her breath. “This is about Faith.”

  Disgruntled, Bryony stalked from the room as slow as humanly possible, but not another word was spoken until the door clicked shut behind her.

  “I always knew you were privy to secrets other people didn’t even realize existed,” Hawk told Grenville. “But I never thought you would keep the existence of my own flesh and blood secret even from me.”

  Dahlia paled. “You do know.”

  Hawk crossed his arms as he forced himself to contain his anger.

  “I won’t apologize,” Grenville said evenly. “Faith asked if I could keep a secret and I said yes. If you know anything about me at all, it is that I do not go back on my word.”

  “I thought about it, though,” Dahlia mentioned hesitantly.

  Grenville slanted his sister a scathing glance and strode from the parlor, leaving Hawk and Dahlia alone to argue amongst themselves.

  Very well.

  Hawk turned back to Dahlia.

  “Make no mistake. I had no sympathy for you at first,” she said bluntly. “You were a blackguard unworthy even to be trod upon. But when I heard you mention Faith earlier this year and then you started coming around the school… I saw how much you were truly suffering. One couldn’t help but suspect that you still loved her. And that if you loved her now, you have loved her all this time.”

  Hawk gave her a brittle smile. “Then why did you do nothing?”

  “Too much time had gone by,” she answered simply. “Think of it from Faith’s perspective. Whether or not you agree with the choice she made, once she made it, every day, every week, every month, every year that you didn’t know, made it all the more impossible to tell you. Not that you were anywhere to be found. If you had come by at any point while she was still panicking about being with child, I have no doubt she would have done everything differently. But you didn’t. You didn’t come then, and you didn’t come after. So why should she have come to you?”

  “I made a mistake. Several of them. I do not deny this.” Hawk’s fingers clenched. “But if I had known the truth sooner, I would’ve tried to fix my mistakes.”

  “Meaning what?” Dahlia asked. “You would have married Faith? No, you wouldn’t have. You didn’t marry her after taking her innocence. A child would have been just as easy to sweep under the rug.”

  “I wanted to marry her,” Hawk ground out. “My mother, my guardian, and my advisors—”

  “Would have ‘advised’ you to walk away. To send her to the countryside. To ‘take care of the problem.’ Perhaps send her a small sum to make up for any hard feelings.”

  Hawk snarled, “I would never have done such a thing.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” Dahlia waved a hand dismissively. “If they could talk you out of marrying the woman you loved, you were in no position to insist upon being a father to a child you couldn’t afford.”

  That was then. This was now.

  “We’ll never know,” Hawk said bitterly. “Maybe you’re right about me. Maybe I was too desperate for approval from my mother. Too terrified of causing even more harm to an estate I had just learned was built on nothing more than smoke and mirrors. Or maybe family meant more to me than you give me credit for.”

  “But would it have been better for Christina?” Dahlia asked, her eyes pleading.

  Hawk’s chest tightened. “You sound exactly like Faith.”

  “She’s had ten years to think about it,” Dahlia pointed out. “In the beginning there was nothing she wanted more than for you to come back on your own. Not because you had despoiled her, not because you had accidentally sired a child, but because you loved her and wanted to share your lives together. It never happened.”

  “She specifically requested me never to—”

  “She was angry. Your presence in her life should never have been in question.”

  He had no response. Dahlia was right.

  “Once she gave birth and held Christina in her arms,” Dahlia continued, “Faith stopped caring about what she wanted. All that mattered was Christina. She hadn’t been born into a title, but she had been born into a house of love. And month by month, as Christina’s grandparents became wealthier, she quickly had far more advantages without you than she would have ever had with you.”

  Each word was a knife, a curved blade shaving away slices of his soul.

  “Even if every word you say is true,” he ground out in torment, “does my unsuitability back then mean that I shouldn’t be allowed to do right by my daughter today? That it is too late for us to become the family we always should have been?”

  Dahlia’s eyes shone with empathy. “Only you and Faith can answer that.”

  Hawk stared at her for a long hopeless second before turning his back and exiting the parlor and their home.

  Coming here had not been a waste of time, nor had it been the panacea he’d hoped for. The Grenvilles were not at fault for his current situation. That designation fell squarely on him and Faith.

  Dahlia was right that they were the only ones who could reach some sort of conclusion. A compromise that complemented the needs of all parties, if such a feat could exist.

  He was not yet ready to speak with Faith, but he was more than ready to get to know his daughter. Every minute without Christina in his life was another moment he could never get back. He gave his driver instructions and leaned back against the hard wall of his coach.

  Hawk had not yet worked out all the details, but of one thing he was certain. There could be no future without his daughter in it. He could not live with himself otherwise. He would not abandon his own flesh and blood.

  When the Season ended, if he couldn’t afford to stay in London and was forced to return with his mother to their entailed monstrosity in the countryside, then by God he was bringing his daughter with him.

  No matter what it took to do so.

  Chapter 18

  Unease prickled the back of Faith’s neck. She pushed from her desk to go peek in on her daughter, just as she’d done every half hour all morning long. Ever since the disastrous revelations to Hawkridge two nights before, she hadn’t been able to allow Christina out of her sight for more than a few moments.

  Not that he would just take Christina from her, Faith told herself firmly. He might be a marquess, but he wasn’t the devil.

  Probably.

  Faith stepped out into the school’s corridor and let out a deep breath. The truth was, she was no angel either.

  Christina would feel incredibly hurt to discover that her “aunt” was actually her mother. She might think Faith had been ashamed of her all this time. Unwilling to admit the connection publicly because Christina was in some way unworthy. Faith couldn’t bear to put her daughter through such unnecessary self-doubt.

  And that wasn’t even the worst.

  Christina would feel utterly betrayed to learn her father wasn’t dead. That he had been living in the same town. Volunteering his time at the same school. She would never forgive Faith for keeping him from her all of these years.

  Even if it truly had been out of love for her daughter.

  She rubbed her temples. A secret this big would not get easier with time. But although Faith hadn’t given up the idea of one day telling Christina the truth, this was not the moment to confess her sins. There was too much happening at once. Hawkridge had just come back in their lives. There was no way to know whether this time, he’d stay.

  Or whether he’d do as his father had done and decide a lord’s attentions belonged elsewhere.

  Faith tiptoed down the hall toward the unfurnished dormitory Chris often used as a playroom. There was no reason to be so jumpy with fear. Everything would be fine. At least for another day.

  Hawkridge could be impulsive, but he wasn’t rash. Wasn’t destructive.

  But when she peeked through the crack in the doorway at the bare stone floor Christina shared with her toys, her daughter was not alone. Lord Hawkridge sat across from h
er on the dusty floor in his nankeen trousers, a doll in his hand.

  Faith’s heart skipped in alarm. When had he arrived? Who had allowed him in?

  She swallowed her anger. Most likely, it would not have occurred to whichever student was on duty as butler at the time not to allow admittance to the school’s dancing instructor. By now, Hawkridge was a familiar face. He had helped mend windows and hang shelves. Of course he would be welcomed in without question.

  After all, it was not as though Faith could confess her reasons for wishing to keep him out.

  Christina pointed at her toys. “And this one is Grandmother Doll and this one is Grandfather Doll and that one is Faith Doll.”

  Hawkridge held up his doll. “Which one is this one?”

  “Me!” Chris laughed. “That’s Christina Doll. This is my family. We love to play together.”

  Faith burst into the room. “What are you doing here?”

  “Playing,” came Christina’s sunny reply as she bounced her grandmother and grandfather dolls from knee to knee.

  Lord Hawkridge laid down the Christina Doll and jumped to his feet. “I came by to bring her a gift.”

  Faith glared at him. “She doesn’t want a gift.”

  “I want it!” Christina clapped her hands and scrambled to her feet. “Is it a surprise?”

  Hawkridge tore his gaze from Faith’s and reached for a rectangular package on the windowsill. It had been wrapped with brown paper and tied with a blue ribbon, neither of which had been performed with a practiced hand.

  He had wrapped the gift himself.

  Faith scowled. She wasn’t prepared to watch him do sweet things for her daughter.

  Their daughter.

  Christina tore open the paper with an abandon that would have shocked the other students at the school. In situations like theirs, paper was very dear. A luxury to be treated carefully and reused as many times and in as many ways as possible.

  Even in Lord Hawkridge’s house, this was likely the case. What must he think of a daughter who took such things for granted?

  “A book!” Christina squealed. She eagerly flipped through the pages and clasped it to her chest in delight. “There’s a drawing on every page with every kind of animal in England!”

  Before Faith could so much as take a step forward, Chris launched herself up and into Lord Hawkridge’s arms for a spontaneous hug and then danced her new book about the empty dormitory as if she were twirling in the arms of a prince.

  Hawkridge was frozen in place, his expression stunned, his eyes glassy.

  Faith tried not to think about what it might mean to him that her affectionate child had hugged him. She tried not to think about what it meant to herself.

  Seeing the two of them together was something she had always dreamed of, yet always dreaded. The specter had always followed over her shoulder like a dark cloud capable of portending either a thunderstorm or a rainbow.

  It was far too soon to tell which.

  “May I please speak with you in the corridor, Hawkridge?” she asked tightly.

  He remained encased in stone for another moment, then nodded jerkily and made his way to join her out in the hall.

  “She’s wonderful,” he said in awe.

  “I know,” Faith said. “That’s why I want the best for her. Not the best for you. Not the best for me. The best for Christina.”

  “I just want to be part of her life,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.

  “You should not have come today without informing me first,” was all she said in reply.

  She could not trust herself to say more.

  “I’d like to make a schedule,” he announced. “With Parliament in session, my time is limited but the hours are predictable. I should be able to spend a significant amount of time with Christina starting as early as today.”

  Faith shook her head. “Regardless of your schedule, once she begins finishing school, you cannot drop in unannounced to bother her. There will be specific days when she is free to spend time with her family.”

  “Finishing school?” Hawkridge took a step back. “You mean to send her away?”

  “Not far,” Faith admitted. “Just outside the city limits.”

  Frustration flashed in his eyes. “Now that she is finally part of my life, you’re trying to keep her out of my reach?”

  “I said just outside London,” Faith repeated irritably. “Not the moon.”

  “It might as well be. I don’t live in London.” Hawkridge glared at her as if she were being purposefully dense. “I let an apartment while Parliament is in session, but as soon as it ends I must return to one of the entailed estates.”

  “And that is not my fault, but rather your decision.” Faith tried to make him see reason. “Regardless of where you live, Christina needs an education.”

  “And so she will have one. But if I never see her, it will be as if nothing has changed. Yet I have.” Hawkridge’s gaze was wild, his face ashen. “Now that I know she exists, I cannot relegate her to sporadic visits once or twice a year when I happen to be in town for other reasons.”

  Faith winced. The situation he was describing was painfully familiar. His father had done exactly that. With Simon. Hawkridge was horrified at the idea of repeating the pattern.

  “I won’t stand for it,” he said stubbornly. “It will not happen.”

  “You will not ruin this for her.” Faith glared at him. “This is one of the best finishing schools in England. Garnering an interview with the administration was difficult enough. She does not need to count you as a liability.”

  He drew himself up taller. “I am not a liability. I am her new guardian.”

  Faith’s heart dropped. “I won’t allow it.”

  “I don’t want to have to force you.” His expression was as hard as stone.

  She crossed her arms. “Without proof of parentage, you have little power over me. You cannot force me to do anything.”

  “A word from me can do a lot more damage than you realize,” he said grimly. “Don’t back me into a corner. The right to see my child is nonnegotiable.”

  Faith hesitated, her hands shaking.

  While this threat was nonspecific, he did not require details to make his point. He was a man and a marquess. Those traits alone gave him plenty of power.

  He could ruin Christina’s chances at every finishing school in the country. He could ruin this school’s chances at raising even another farthing for their students.

  Now that she’d told Hawkridge the truth, there was no choice but to live with that decision.

  Perhaps if they reached some sort of compromise…

  If Lord Hawkridge were Christina’s legal guardian on paper, he would not have “abandoned” her. Hawkridge could then allow her to attend school, and make friends, and live her life.

  Decision made, Faith nodded and forced herself to meet his eyes. The courts might well side with him, regardless of pesky details like proof. She could not allow him to ruin their lives.

  “Very well. You can foster Christina on one condition.” She took a deep breath. “Where she goes, I go. You cannot take her anywhere without my knowledge or permission.”

  Hawkridge laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No, Faith. I’m taking both of you. You will come as my wife.”

  Chapter 19

  Hawk waited in the receiving salon outside his mother’s bedchamber in a cold sweat. The cough was back. It was worse than before. The doctor was inside.

  He leaned the back of his head against the wall and listened as hard as he could to the murmuring voices on the other side. Not voices. Just one. If Mother was responding to the doctor’s hushed queries, Hawk couldn’t hear her.

  Unsurprising, since she hadn’t spoken or even exited her bedchamber in days.

  There was sick, and then there was this.

  Hawk slammed the back of his fists against the wall. Mother couldn’t be dying. They couldn’t afford it.

  He could not wait ano
ther moment to marry Faith.

  On the one hand, he should not waste his limited funds on something so ostentatious as a special license. On the other, he could not risk three weeks of banns and having Faith’s friends and family protest their union in order to indefinitely impede their marriage with frivolous accusations.

  But it was more than just her dowry. He didn’t trust her to allow him in Christina’s life of her own free will. Once Faith became his wife, they would both be Christina’s guardians. Equals. As it should be.

  His footman appeared in the doorway, red-cheeked and windblown. The young man had been given a stack of letters and instructed to wait at each residence for the recipient to pen a reply.

  Hawk accepted the small pile of folded letters.

  “Thank you.” This would give him something to flip through while awaiting the doctor’s verdict.

  Most of his inquiries were dead ends. The investors had all signed very specific contracts, and were unwilling to part with another penny until the port finally opened.

  One, however, had proven to be somewhat flexible. He would allow Hawk to take out a small personal loan against his own shares, in exchange for an exorbitant interest rate if the money was not repaid in full the moment the port became active.

  The eye-watering percentages were less than ideal. Hawk had a sick mother, an unexpected daughter, and a reluctant wife to contend with. He would do as he must.

  The door to his mother’s bedchamber eased open.

  Hawk snapped to attention. “May I see her now?”

  “No.” The doctor stepped out into the receiving salon and shut the door firmly behind. “Let her have her rest.”

  “Have you determined what’s wrong?”

  The doctor frowned. “It’s unclear. The cause could be as temporary as the dreadful weather, as concerning as pneumonia, or as fatal as consumption. Until we know for certain, we must keep her comfortable and warm, and suppress the cough as much as we can.”

  Hawk’s brain had stopped working after the word fatal. He blinked as fast as he could to hide the fear threatening to unseat him. Family had just meant the two of them for so many years. He could not bear to lose her so early.