by Erica Ridley
Christina glanced up from her tower of toast to smile angelically. “I didn’t take too much, Aunt Faith. I will eat every bite. I promise.”
Faith gave a tight nod. “There has been a change in plans. You will spend the day with Lord Hawkridge. No sour faces, please. I will hurry home as fast as I am able.”
Christina shook her head. “Today I go to my grandparents. We are going to make paper boats and float them on the lake.”
“Next time.” Faith’s smile was overbright. “Be good, darling. I’ll be back in a trice.”
When Faith stalked away down the corridor—presumably preferring a hackney cab over Hawk’s company—Christina pushed her plate of toast away and crossed her arms in a huff.
She glared at Hawk. “I don’t want you. I want my grandparents.”
His stomach tightened. “We can go to the lake together. I love to float paper boats, too.”
“I don’t want to float them with you. I want to float them with Grandfather.”
“We can go out for ices,” Hawk continued cajolingly. “What flavor of frozen ice do you like best?”
He ignored the recriminations in the back of his mind. They did not have the money to make such extravagances a habit, but surely just this once…
“I don’t want ices,” his daughter said flatly. “If I can’t go to my grandparents’ house then I want to go to school with Aunt Faith.”
“Tomorrow,” he promised. “Today you will have adventures with Uncle Hawkridge.”
Christina was singularly unimpressed. “You are not my uncle.”
“I could be like an uncle,” he offered hopefully.
She shook her head even more disparagingly. “You could not. You are not my family. You took my family away from me.”
Hawk wondered if it was too late to halt Faith before she managed to catch a hackney. He’d been parenting for all of five minutes and could clearly use some direction.
“What if we visit your grandparents,” he began slowly, “and then sail paper boats in the lake?”
Christina frowned as she considered his proposal.
In the ensuing silence, Hawk’s skin pricked with pins and needles. This was worse than the first time he’d ever asked a girl to dance. There would be other girls, other dances. But there would not be another opportunity to have a good “first outing” with his daughter.
“We visit them first?” she asked.
Hawk nodded. “Right after you finish your toast.”
Christina slid a guilty glance toward the empty doorway where Faith had stood. “I took too much. Can you help me?”
“I would love to.” Truce established, Hawk sat next to her so that they could both reach the same plate.
When they arrived at the Digby residence, to say Faith’s parents were surprised to discover Christina in Hawk’s company would be a vast understatement.
Mrs. Digby looked over his shoulder in alarm. “Where is Faith?”
“At school,” he said quickly. “Christina and I are out on adventure today. Our first adventure was dropping by to say good morning to you.”
“It was my idea,” Christina put in. “Lord Hawkridge wanted to sail paper boats at the lake first.”
“Hawkridge wanted to sail paper boats at the lake?” Mr. Digby’s tone was skeptical.
“That might’ve been my idea, too,” Christina said. “Are there any biscuits?”
“I shall have Cook make some.” Mrs. Digby cast a raised brow toward Hawk. “That is, if you’ve an hour to spare before your next adventure?”
He affected an offended mien. “Only a very foolish man would be in too great a hurry for biscuits.”
She did not smile in return, but nor did she wound him with biting comments about the many ways he had been foolish in the past.
“Did you receive the gift we sent?” Mr. Digby asked Christina when his wife stepped away to ring the maid.
Christina pulled a face. “Yes. Thank you, Grandfather. I’ll try to love it.”
Gift? Hawk frowned. He had no idea what the Digbys might have sent. Hopefully it wasn’t a pony.
Mrs. Digby returned. “Shall we remove to the library whilst we await fresh biscuits?”
“Yes!” Christina exclaimed and raced from the room before anyone else could answer.
“Get used to that,” Mr. Digby muttered under his breath as he set out in pursuit of his granddaughter.
Hawk felt out of place following Faith’s parents through their magnificent home. When he entered the library, his jaw dropped. He had never seen such a collection shoehorned into a townhouse before, even in a residence as large as this. No wonder Christina couldn’t wait to disappear inside.
“This one!” Christina flew out from between two rows of bookshelves with a colorful tome held aloft. “Grandmother, can you read it to me?”
Mr. and Mrs. Digby exchanged a glance.
“You can read that on your own,” Mrs. Digby said to Christina. “But why don’t you read it to Lord Hawkridge?”
Christina pouted, clearly about to argue.
“I hazard he’s never seen such a fine book on butterflies before,” Mr. Digby said to his granddaughter. “Just imagine Lord Hawkridge’s face when you describe the cocoon.”
Christina brightened and flung herself to the thick carpet at Hawk’s feet. “Sit.”
“We’ve talked about chairs, Christina,” Mrs. Digby reminded her. “Lord Hawkridge is a marquess and cannot possibly—”
Hawk dropped to the carpet next to his daughter. “I don’t mind at all. What’s this about a cocoon?”
The next hour disappeared in a flash as Christina read to him about the life-cycle of caterpillars, the flowers of England, the birds of London.
Although she stumbled over a few words, her reading level was far higher than Hawk would have guessed for a girl her age. Hell, he guessed half the pinks of the ton would’ve twisted their tongues over words like bulbous buttercup and metamorphosis.
Mr. and Mrs. Digby sat side-by-side not ten feet away. Hawk expected to feel spied upon, as if he were not good enough to play nanny, much less be a father.
He quickly surmised, however, that watching Christina play on the floor from their vantage point on the richly decorated chaise longue was one of the Digbys’ favorite pastimes. The amused glances they exchanged, the way they mouthed words from the book even before Christina spoke them, the brief caresses of one hand on the other’s when they thought Hawk wasn’t looking.
That was perhaps the most mind-bending of all. Hawk could not recall a time in which his parents had shared the same settee, much less a furtive caress. Faith’s parents were still in love. She’d grown up knowing love like that, commitment like that, happiness like that.
So had Christina. She would have no reason to doubt that her future husband would treat her just as tenderly.
Hawk’s shoulders sagged when he realized Faith had been right. When he’d rescinded his impending proposal because he couldn’t afford to keep her, much less start a family, she had been faced with a difficult decision.
Regardless of whether the right thing to do would have been informing him of her pregnancy, had Christina really been any worse off growing up in a loving environment where money was never a worry?
She would forevermore be Miss Digby, rather than Lady Christina. That part pained Hawkridge because it was the one thing he could have given her.
But the rest of it: a magical library, a charmed life, a loving mother and two loving grandparents… There was no price he could put on her happiness.
He set his jaw. From this day forward, he, Faith and Christina would determine their joint future together.
When the last of the biscuits had been consumed, it was finally time to bid farewell to the Digbys. Hawk expected tears, or at least repeated accusations that he was stealing Christina’s family from her.
Instead, she shocked him to the core by taking his elbow and skipping toward the coach without complaint.
&nbs
p; “Thank you for taking me to see my grandparents,” she said happily as she wiggled onto the squab.
“Any time,” he replied in wonder.
Perhaps he was not doing so badly after all. They had started on the wrong foot because she had believed he didn’t care about what she might want or need. But after a dozen biscuits and at least as many illustrated scientific primers, he had proven himself not to be completely heartless.
Her grandparents had been instrumental. Had they spoken ill of him, he had no doubt Christina’s original negative impression would have cemented rather than softened. But because Mr. and Mrs. Digby had put the needs of a child above their personal dislike of their son-in-law, Hawk had had a chance.
He flinched at the memory of how his own mother had treated Faith and Christina upon their arrival.
The dressing-down he had given Mother once they were back in her private chambers had been well deserved. But from now on, he would not wait until his wife and child were out of earshot before he defended them. He could never again let them doubt the place they held in his heart.
Hawk’s coach was already halfway to the park when he realized that he had no paper with which to make folded boats to float on the water.
“I am very sorry,” he said, once he had explained the situation. Their first father-daughter outing and already he had cocked things up.
She patted his shoulder. “That’s all right. I should have reminded you.”
He tried not to laugh at what was clearly an echo of something her mother must often have said to her. “Next time?”
“Next time,” Christine agreed with a smile.
“Very well.” Hawk thought for a second. “You have two choices, Miss Digby.”
Her eyes lit up. “Do I?”
He nodded solemnly. “Would you like to return home and play with your toys? Or would you like to walk about the park with me anyway, and perhaps come with me while I complete a few errands after?”
Christina thought it over. “I can choose whichever I want?”
“Absolutely.” Hawk gazed back at her. “You’re almost a young lady. I am certain you know your own mind.”
Pleasure flooded Christina’s face at the compliment and she lifted her chin arrogantly. “I do indeed. And I have decided to spend the day with you.”
Hawk had not thought she would choose him. He grinned, despite the sudden tightness in his throat. “Shall we start with the lake?”
The next few hours with his daughter were full of more fun than he’d had in years. They walked every inch of the park, picked a bouquet of flowers, spied a trio of red squirrels, shared hot cross buns, and fed the crumbs to baby ducklings.
When at last it was almost time to return home, the last thing he wanted was to leave the magic of the park for errands on Bond Street. But he was not just a father. He was also a marquess. And men like the tailor had been waiting long enough for their accounts to be settled.
Even if all Hawk could do was to pay pennies on every pound owed.
But when he and Christina stepped inside the tailor’s shop to place another paltry twenty pounds toward the total, the tailor shook his head in confusion. “There’s nothing to pay. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
Hawk blinked.
The tailor smiled expectantly.
“Forgotten what?” Hawk shook his head in confusion. When he had come by the month before, there had been five hundred pounds outstanding on the account. “I haven’t been by all month.”
“No, of course not.” The tailor laughed, as if this were all a silly misunderstanding. “But Mr. Spaulding was quite clear the sum was to be paid off in your name.”
Hawk froze. His brother had paid off the sartorial debt? For the father too self-righteous to give Simon a legitimate birth? That act of selfishness had cost Simon his rightful place as the heir. He was the firstborn and should have inherited the title, but instead he had received nothing.
Which meant these were not his debts. Even if Simon were using Faith’s dowry to close out the accounts, Simon needn’t feel responsible in the slightest for a single penny of their father’s obligations.
“Thank you,” Hawk said tightly. He turned to march toward the door.
Christina’s hand tightened on his elbow. “Where are we going now?”
To have a reckoning with Hawk’s presumptuous brother.
He glanced down at his daughter. “Do you mind if we stop by the school?”
Christina’s hazel eyes lit with happiness. “It’ll be nuncheon. I can visit with my friends.”
Perfect. Hawk did not need his daughter to witness the conversation he was about to have with Simon.
The man had claimed that the ladies had spent every penny of Faith’s dowry before Simon even knew about it. If instead he was using it to pay off debts in Hawk’s name, it should be up to Hawk not Simon to determine how the marquessate’s accounts were settled.
When they arrived at the school, Simon was just leaving for Bow Street. Hawk sent Christina inside to chat with her friends.
“I’ve just come from the tailor,” he said by way of greeting.
“Ah,” Simon nodded. “Then you know.”
Hawk shook with anger. “You said the dowry money was gone.”
“It is,” Simon said. “But my promotion came early. A matter I resolved for Lady Pettibone impressed the right people. The Justice of the Peace felt I deserved compensation.”
This thunderbolt only turned Hawk’s guilt into shame. The money wasn’t from the dowry that had been meant for Faith’s future. It was a hard-earned bonus that had been meant for Simon.
“What has that to do with me?” Hawk demanded. “You have a family of your own. The school needs your money. I did not ask for your charity.”
“All the ladies in the school are part of my extended family,” Simon agreed. He placed a hand on Hawk’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “But so are you, little brother. You may be a marquess now, but I’ll be your big brother until the end of time.”
Hawk’s throat was suddenly too tight for him to speak.
Simon glanced at his pocket watch. “Be back by seven if you want to join us for the Headmistress Dinner. And don’t think about skipping out on your duties as dancing master this week. ‘Newlywed’ does not mean a gentleman leaves twenty-four eager girls without a dance partner.”
Before Hawk could respond, his brother leaped onto his horse and rode away.
He swallowed his guilt. Simon did not have ulterior motives after all. He was not trying to use Hawk’s inside knowledge of the Cloven Hoof to make an even bigger name for himself amongst the Bow Street runners. Simon had got his promotion completely on his own. He had not wanted the bonus for himself but for his family.
Hawk had never known having family could feel like this. Someone spending an unexpected windfall to help you, rather than himself. Someone choosing to spend time with you rather than her dolls. Fresh baked biscuits even when one did not deserve them.
His heart warmed. He had become a far richer man than he had ever dreamed possible.
Chapter 24
After the fourth day in a row of grueling parliamentary sessions, Hawk was ready to hang himself with his cravat.
Sitting through the sessions was his duty to his title and to the Crown, but surely there was a limit to how much any man could be expected to withstand arguments on gossip-column caricatures and Princess Cariboo sightings.
There were so many more important topics to discuss. Construction of the Waterloo bridge. The reintroduction of the gold sovereign. Hawk finally escaping the Palace of Westminster to spend time with his family.
He had been married less than a week and already one of the best parts of Hawk’s day was returning home from Parliament, knowing Faith and Christina would be in the house waiting for him.
When his carriage pulled up at the front walk to their townhome, an entire day’s exhaustion vanished into the air. Hawk all but sprinted up to the doorstep, letting
himself in and beating his driver to the task.
But when he opened the door, nobody was there to greet him. Not even the maid.
He frowned and tilted his head. The townhouse was silent. Perhaps the honeymoon, such as it was, was over. Faith and Christina likely had any number of better things to do than sit about waiting for Parliament to wind down, while their stomachs growled in displeasure.
The house was almost eerily quiet.
Before his mother had fallen ill, she had been the one to greet him. Often with recriminations about this, or complaints about that, but at least he had known she was well.
Since becoming bedridden, she had ceased to greet him by the door, but her wracking cough was violent enough to make the house tremble. Yet there were no such rumbles.
Alarm coursed through his muscles. For a woman who was not willing to leave her bedchamber, complete silence might mean something horrible had befallen her. Something too dreadful to consider.
Hawk sprinted up the stairs to the sleeping quarters and skidded to a stop just outside his mother’s receiving parlor.
She was not in bed, but nor had she succumbed to an untimely demise while Hawk was at Parliament.
His mother’s quarters had been rearranged such that she was now bundled not into her four-poster canopy, but rather upon a chaise longue beneath an uncurtained window.
He could hardly see her beneath the multiple layers of old woolen blankets and suspiciously bright-colored satin pillows piled up on the chaise.
The tea table had been dragged from the unused corner of the room in which it had stood for the past several years, and now stood between his mother’s chaise longue and a footstool, upon which perched Hawk’s wife.
Before his disbelieving eyes, his mother cast a handful of cards toward Faith’s face.
Just as he stepped forward to intervene, Faith tossed two playing cards of her own in his mother’s direction with a gleeful, “…and I’ll raise you three!”
Hawk’s mind blanked. What the devil? This was the throwing card game the Grenvilles had been playing. Faith had taught it to his mother.