An Unforgettable Rogue (15 page)

Alex removed Bea’s tiny kid slippers and pulled the blanket over her, tucking it up to her chin.

“Remember after Mama died, Uncle Hawk,” Bea said, snuggling in, “when you used to take naps with me, so I would not have bad dreams? I missed our naps when you were gone.”

“I missed them too, Pup.”

“Alex napped with me after you left. She sleeps quieter than you do, but I like napping with you too.”

“Thank you,” Hawk said, looking over at Alex, raising a brow at her chuckle.

“I like best having you
both
to nap with.” Bea gave a huge yawn. “It makes me feel safe and happy, like having a mama and a papa, both, again.” Then she sighed and closed her eyes, and before they knew it, she was snuffling like a contented hedgehog.

Hawk regarded Alex over Bea’s head. Just that easy, this little one had cracked the foundation of all his good intentions.

He reached over to take Alex’s hand and weave their fingers together. Then Bea turned on her side and buried her face between Alex’s breasts, sighing in sleepy contentment.

Lucky Pup, Hawk thought, Bea’s words playing in his head, whether he wished them to or not. Having Alex and him both was like having two parents again—a humbling but disquieting announcement from a six-year-old who had lacked parents for more than half her life.

Alex took Bea’s cue and fell asleep as well, her fingers still laced with his. And Hawk lay there and worried about them and watched over them.

His family … perhaps not wholly better off without him after all.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Days later, Hawk was still worrying Bea’s words like a pup with a bone. If he went ahead with his plan to set Alex free, what would losing her do to Beatrix, who had already endured the separate losses of her parents? Not to mention how she must have felt for losing him as well.

He recalled how she had wept for him when she had not quite recognized him. Now, here he was, back from the dead and planning to set Alex free, which amounted to the same thing as taking away her new mother. Poor Bea.

Poor Alex. She would never allow herself to be set free, if she thought Bea might suffer for it. So, how could he release her now, Chesterfield or no?

Hawk had detested Chesterfield for so long. For years, they had played some silent game, vying for the same stakes: women, money, and the respect of their peers. Hawk did not even know exactly when the game had begun or why.

He knew only that he had won, hands down, for the most part, until that fateful day at White’s, when Chesterfield and his father met by accident, apparently, and found themselves sharing a brandy and becoming fast friends. Later his father had said that Chesterfield was a good man, a man a father could be proud of.

The bitter taste of that pronouncement had lingered and festered inside Hawk, until the day his father contrived to offer him pride at the last, that fateful, consequential day.

After that, their old rivalry had been forgotten in the chaos of war and pain, until it flared anew, blazed, that day at the church, and worse since, until Hawk discovered that Chesterfield practically saved Bea’s life. Now he found himself trying to swallow an adjustment of his attitude toward his old nemesis.

To complicate matters, Chesterfield had come striding right up to him recently, there on Huntington property, while Hawk tried to help one of his seasoned tenants deliver a lamb, of all things. The lambing was not only Hawk’s first, but the delivery difficult at best, and out of season, so there was some worry that the lamb would be too weak and small to withstand a prolonged birth.

Chesterfield had ignored their struggle and ripped up at him. “Claudia is going to get herself into trouble visiting men at their homes, without a maid in tow, sending notes, inviting them to woodland trysts and unchaperoned walks,” the blighter shouted. “If you continue your lackadaisical guardianship in this way, Hawksworth, your niece will be ruined.”

“Do not presume—”

“It is one thing for her to be naturally-friendly and exuberant here in the country,” Chesterfield continued, ignoring Hawk’s attempt to respond, “but entirely another in town. If she continues to care naught for her reputation, she will run wild in London and find herself at the mercy of some blackguard who misunderstands her and accepts the wrong invitation, with no care to her safety or good name. I trust I have made my point,” Chesterfield said, even as he stormed off.

“Just see that
you
stay away from her,” Hawk shouted after him.

“I am bloody well trying,” Chesterfield snapped.

“Wait,” Hawk said, stroking the laboring ewe to calm her. “What did you give Alex, for which she owes you something in exchange?”

Chesterfield cursed. “Her freedom, damn you to perdition.”

No matter that Hawk called the blighter back for his foolish answer, Chesterfield did not so much as falter or turn, but kept walking.

Still Hawk wondered which piece of the puzzle remained missing, for the ones he had garnered thus far did not fit.

Now, as their borrowed carriage carried them smoothly toward London, Hawk could not decide if he was grateful to Chesterfield for his warning about Claudia, or furious with him over his mysterious exchange, of sorts, with Alex.

He did realize, however, that Chesterfield was right about one thing. Hawk knew less about raising girls than he did about birthing sheep.

He knew even less about grown women, wives in particular. One wife. His. He needed to talk to someone with experience. Perhaps Gideon, though his fellow rogue had less experience with children than Hawk. But he did have a wife, Sabrina—Hawk’s sister since his late and villainous half-brother married her.

Not that Hawk could not speak to Alex about Claudia. He could and did, to a point, but he would rather not bring Chesterfield into any of their conversations, if he could help it—no need to remind her of what she had lost.

Besides, he could ask Sabrina about Alex as well as Claude. Bree seemed to know instinctively what to do in most situations, and she understood him so very well, in the same way he understood her. So much so that Gideon had once imagined they were in love with each other.

Now that was a story he would have to share with Alex someday.

Alex was pleased that their two-hour trip to London remained for the most part uneventful. Hawk had dressed in his own clothes for the first time, a deal newer and more fashionable than the ones from his Belgian family. Though getting him to agree had taken a bit of cajoling and more than one satisfying kiss. He even agreed to have Weston take a few nips and tucks to bring his attire up to snuff, though he hated for the
ton
to become generally aware that his pockets were to let.

Claudia had pouted for days, because she failed to talk Chesterfield into following them into town. And Hawk was inordinately annoyed with her for trying, after the truth came out, though Alex wasn’t quite sure how he learned it.

What worried her now was that Claude’s pout had disappeared, only to be replaced by the spark of satisfaction lighting her guinea gold eyes.

As much as she worried about Claudia, Alex had to laugh at Bea’s requests to use, and examine, the
necessary
at every posting inn between Devil’s Dyke and St. James’s Square, though it gave them all more than enough opportunity to stretch their legs.

“I miss Uncle Giff,” Beatrix said mournfully as she climbed into Hawk’s lap for what Alex hoped might be a nice long nap.

Saying goodbye to Aunt Hildegarde and Uncle Gifford had been difficult for all of them. The older couple opted to remain behind and skip the pleasures of London. Hawk said he was glad that a male member of the family would remain at Huntington Lodge to oversee the estate. And Alex was glad, because some of London’s pleasures could be too much for certain people.

“You know,” Claudia said, prompted by Bea’s comment, “if I did not know better, I would think that Uncle Giff and Aunt Hildy were pleased to be getting the house to themselves.”

Alex recalled the gatehouse incident with speculation, and by the look of him, so did Hawk. It occurred to Alex, then, that she might have consulted her Aunt Hildegarde about seduction. Though since the woman had never married, she might very well have fallen into an apoplexy of embarrassment, if Alex tried. Hildy and Giff could have visited the gatehouse for a perfectly innocent reason, after all.

“They are probably looking forward to peace and quiet, Hawk said, what with our mischievous eavesdropper safe away. What do you think, Pup?” He tickled Bea until she giggled helplessly and screamed for him to be careful of Nanny.

Everyone groaned. “Where is she?” Hawk asked, stilling, on the instant.

Bea took her ball of a spiny pet from her pocket. “Here she is, see?”

“Did I not tell you to leave Nanny home?”

Beatrix shook her head adamantly. “No you did not, Uncle Bryce. You said that Damon and Rafferty would like to see her. Will you take the twins with us to Astley’s Royal Amphitheater? Tell me again what we will see there?”

Alex knew there would be no rest for any of them this trip, no peace either, not today or in the weeks to come.

As they approached St. James’s Square, Hawk thought that Basingstoke House stood out like a diamond in a tasteful cluster of lesser gems.

The Dowager Duchess herself appeared an exquisite in every respect, petite as a sprite, disciplined as a general, and generous to a fault. Her home seemed to run like a finely-geared French clock, and one hour in her company made him imagine that the twice-widowed Duchess might have been a great help to Wellington on the peninsular.

She appeared as if nothing could ruffle her, until Nanny scampered under her dress and over her slippered feet.

Upon being presented to the Duchess, Claudia curtsied prettily, making the older woman beam. “Enchanting.” She kissed Claudia’s cheek. “I vow that you shall be wed by spring, if not sooner.” And Claudia glowed.

“I made an appointment for us at Madame Suzette’s this afternoon to have Claudia fitted for her new wardrobe, if that is convenient for you both?” the Duchess said to Alex.

Claudia looked as if she might dance on air at the prospect, and Alex accepted with thanks for them both.

After tea, Hawk and Alex followed a maid up to their apartment. “The Duchess told me that we are invited to Gideon and Sabrina’s townhouse at Grosvenor Square for luncheon,” Alex told Hawk. “Afterward, Bea can remain there with Damon and Rafferty for the afternoon, while the Duchess and I take Claudia for her fittings, and you and Gideon can do … whatever it is that London gentlemen do of an afternoon.”

Hawk appeared amused by her words, until they entered their apartment, which consisted of two dressing rooms, a huge sitting room, and one bedchamber. The bed itself was smaller, if that were possible, than the one they had shared at Huntington Lodge.

Hawk stood thunderstruck as he regarded it.

Alex stood grinning beside him. “I love it.”

All the way to Grosvenor Square, Alex was in a state of excitement over seeing Sabrina again, for they had not seen each other in more than a year, not since they shared Hawk’s townhouse right after Hawk went to war.

Months before Alex and Hawk’s marriage, Sabrina had escaped the villain her first husband sold her to, and sought refuge with Hawk and his family.

After Hawk left for the war, Alex and Sabrina, along with their families, had continued to live together for nearly five months. Then Hawk was
killed
at Waterloo, and Bree received his
deathbed
letter saying he had arranged her marriage to Gideon.

When Baxter Wakefield inherited Hawk’s fortune and estates, and tossed them all out, Alex moved her family to Huntington Lodge, and Bree moved hers to Grosvenor Square to await her mystery groom’s arrival.

Damon and Rafferty, Sabrina’s twins, became best of friends with Bea when they lived together, the boys adopting Claudia as their big sister, too. And Hawk and Gideon had served in the Guards under Wellington, so Alex knew that the entire family was as eager for the visit as she.

The Dowager Duchess of Basingstoke was Gideon’s grandmother, by blood, though Sabrina told Alex in a letter that the Duchess treated her children—from her marriage to Hawk’s half-brother—as beloved great-grandchildren.

Sabrina’s youngest, Juliana, born shortly after her marriage to Gideon, had been named after the Duchess, a fact for which the older woman was inordinately proud.

Hawk thought that their arrival at Grosvenor Square was like to rival the Vienna Congress in the rise and fervor of their voices—even after the children dashed up to the nursery. He shook Gideon’s hand, pleased to see his fellow rogue again.

“Ladies, Gentlemen,” the Duchess said to quiet the raucous company milling about the foyer. “Let us have some decorum, if you please, and if we cannot, let us at least remove to the drawing room.”

Sabrina giggled and hooked her arm in the formidable Dowager’s. “Yes, Grandmama.” Together the two women led the group up the stairs.

Alex exclaimed in wonder upon entering an exquisite drawing room, complete with twin fireplaces of topaz marble.

“This is just the beginning,” Sabrina said. “Wait until you see the rest of the house.”

“I am in awe.”

Gideon turned to Alex. “As well you should be. Hawk, present me to your beautiful bride, if you please.”

Hawk took Alex’s arm. “Alex, another member of the Rogues Club, Gideon St. Goddard, Duke of Stanthorpe.”

“Since Hawk and Sabrina are all but brother and sister,” Sabrina’s charming husband said, totally lacking the aristocratic air Alex expected, “and Hawk became my brother under Wellington, I shall consider you my sister.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

“Oh. Ouch. Please, may I call you Alexandra? And you must call me Gideon.”

“Or Uncle Stanthorpe,” Rafferty said joining them.

“Or Uncle Papa,” Damon added with a giggle.

Gideon scooped the twins off the floor, to dangle them one under each arm. “Ignore the scamps Alexandra. My name has become something of a family joke with them. And what do you call me now, you rascals?” he demanded, shaking them until they laughed.

“Papa, Papa,” they chorused.

Beatrix had entered behind them carrying the ugliest cat Alex had ever seen.

“What is that?”

“That’s Mincemeat,” Rafe said, as Gideon set him down. “Isn’t she beautiful? She keeps my feet warm at night and licks my fingers, and purrs soft and happy. And she is the best mama to her kittens I ever saw.”

“Then she is, indeed, beautiful,” Alex said as she petted the purring cat.

“Bea’s Nanny is something ripping, too,” Damon said. “But her quills hurt.”

“I told you to pet her in the direction they grow, not away from it,” Bea said. “She doesn’t know you yet, so she
will
curl in a ball and set her quills straight up to protect herself. When she knows you, she will let you tickle her silky belly.”

“Drizzle likes that, too,” Damon said, petting the short-legged beagle happily trailing behind.

The Dowager shook her head as she regarded her grandson. “Keep this up and we will have to open our own Menagerie.”

Gideon raised his hands in complete guilelessness.

“Do not act the innocent with me,” his grandmother continued. “If Juliana becomes enamored of an India tiger, you will find a way to get her one.”

Gideon grinned and Hawk chuckled deep in his throat.

“Alex, you should see the baby,” Beatrix said. “She looks ever so darling standing in her crib, with only one tooth, and a little blue dress and bonnet, and dark curls, and she giggles when she sees the twins, and calls everybody Papa.”