An Unforgettable Rogue (16 page)

“Julie is a brilliant child,” Gideon said. “Papa is her favorite word.”

“Papa is her
only
word,” his grandmother said, bursting her grandson’s bubble.

Hawksworth barked a near-laugh, the first Alex had heard from him, since he had come home. How relaxed he looked. How at ease of a sudden.

The change would be good for him—for the two of them.

CHAPTER seventeen

They ate
en famille
, with everyone present but the baby. “I fed Juliana earlier, so she should be settling down for her nap, about now,” Sabrina said. “How pleased we are that you have come to town for the little season. I can hardly wait for a comfortable coze, Alex. Can you spend the afternoon?”

“Oh, no, I am sorry, but I cannot. We have an appointment for Claude’s fittings.”

“Nonsense,” the Duchess said. “Claudia, what say you to letting
me
take you for your fittings?”

Claudia beamed and the Duchess nodded regally. “It is settled then.”

Sabrina shook her head at her seventeen year old niece. “Claudia, I can hardly believe you are old enough to be entering the marriage mart.”

“Providing we can obtain entry into all the best balls and routs,” Alex said. “That is always a worry, is it not?”

The Duchess waved her comment aside. “Your entry has been assured everywhere, my dears. I told you I would take care of everything. Sally Jersey is an old school chum.”

After luncheon, Hawk and Gideon decided they would go to Weston’s for a fitting of their own then to see if any news had surfaced on Hawk’s father’s solicitor.

“We might stop by Stephen’s Hotel as well,” Hawk said. “I would like to inquire as to some possible military men who need work and a place to settle. We have room at Huntington for six more tenant families.”

“London is teeming with out-of-work soldiers,” Gideon said. “Spitalfields has thousands who are half-starved and unemployed, never mind the number in workhouses and debtors’ prisons.”

“God’s teeth, I had not realized the situation had grown so dire.”

Gideon nodded. “It is an abomination for England’s defenders to suffer so. Between the war’s end and the poorest farming weather in years, I fear we are looking at bad times ahead.”

“Let us take a drive through the East End, then. Perhaps we can find a few soldiers we know. By having them as my tenants, we can help each other.”

“Excellent,” Gideon said as they donned their many-caped greatcoats and accepted top hats and canes. “I could use a few good men on my estates as well.”

They kissed their respective wives with an awkwardness, at first, for the public displays of affection, then with devilish gleams in their eyes for realizing it.

“Wickedly-handsome rogues, are they not?” Alex said from the open front door beside Sabrina as they watched the carriage depart.

“They certainly are.”

Alex chuckled. “My goodness, you amaze me. You, the original man-hater—not without the best of reasons, mind. But still, it is such a turnabout.”

“I am so very happy and … contented.” Sabrina shut the door. “Though I never expected to be.”

“I envy you.”

“You will have your turn. Tell me what has been happening with you and Hawksworth.”

“Before I can, you must answer a question that has been plaguing me.”

“Gladly. Please, sit. Would you like me to ring for tea?”

Alex shook her head in response to both. “Hawk said that you told him I was marrying, but why did you never write to tell me that he was alive and living in London?”

Sabrina paled and lowered herself to the settee. “Oh, Alex, it is so complicated.”

“I thought we were friends, Bree. I know Hawksworth is more your brother than your brother-in-law and thinks of you as his sister. I have made peace with that, even with the fact that you received a last letter and I did not. But why did you not tell me that I was not free to marry? Would you have let me commit bigamy?”

“Of course not, which is the only reason Gideon allowed me to go that morning and tell Hawksworth—so Hawk could stop you.”

“Allowed you?”

“Gideon was adamant that I not interfere, and I agreed about Hawksworth, for the most part. Oh, Alex, you should have seen Hawk when he showed himself to us, which was not until we were all nearly killed.”

“Killed?”

Sabrina waved Alex’s worried question away. “That is a story we will save for another time, but worry not, for the danger has passed. As for Hawk, he was in a dark place, Alex, wounded, deeply, and not simply of body.  He was lost, almost of soul, as well. I might fancifully say that he appeared as if he
had
died—and gone to hell—but in returning, brought his demons with him, because they clung tenaciously to his inner spirit.”

“Oh, Bree.” Alex sat as well. “Sometimes I have glimpsed such darkness in him.”

“It was frightening. He was frightening. We worried about him, feared for his sanity, that he might do something rash.”

Alex rose, hands fisted. She wanted more than anything to lash out in anger at her old friend. “And you did not think I could help him?”

“Hawk is better now, which must be because of you, so I wonder if we might have been wrong to wait, but we did what we thought was best, Alex. Gideon fought beside Hawk. He held Hawk as he
died
, and he warned me that a man home from war must make his own way through his demons, or be lost to them.”

Sabrina twisted a violet grosgrain bodice-ribbon as she spoke. “I wrote twice to tell you, but I never sent either letter for fear of betraying my promise to Hawk, for fear of hurting him. After we knew he was back in London, Gideon made discreet inquiries, to be certain that he was taking care of himself. We invited him here several times, but other than on the day he rescued us, Hawk never came.” 

Bree shook her head. “On that day, I advised him to contact you, and he promised he would. We owe him our lives, Alex, and we wanted to respect his wishes and give him the time he begged us to give him.”

Despite herself, Alex wept over the things Bree revealed. She could not help herself. Hawk had suffered so much more than she imagined.

Bree handed her a handkerchief, and Alex wiped her eyes and her nose, and smiled, finally, before stepping into Sabrina’s waiting arms. “Thank you for being so much his friend,” Alex said, “that you went against your instincts to be mine, rather than hurt him.”

“You love him still, even though you were about to marry Chesterfield?”

“Still, and more; am I not the fool?”

“Hawksworth is a lovable man.”

“You know that because you love him, too. I thought at one time that you and he....

Bree giggled. “So did Gideon. Jealousy can be a very potent apprentice in getting a man to pay attention.”

“I have tried that, but now I am afraid Hawk is staying away from me, because he thinks I love Chesterfield.”

“Men can be so pigheadedly noble.”

Alex smiled as did Sabrina.

“Now tell me why your frantic note said that you and Hawk should be given one bedchamber only at Grandmama’s, no matter what.” Sabrina raised a questioning brow. “I must confess it has had me imagining all sorts of intrigues.”

“You did not say anything to your husband, did you, about the single bedchamber?”

“Lord, no. Besides, he would tell me not to meddle there, either, and I do so love helping others, especially when it comes to romance, now that I have a romance of my own—which is certainly what your request for one bedroom seemed.”

Alex sat and covered her friend’s hand. “Do you, honestly, Bree? A romance? Hawk said so, and, oh, I am so happy for you. I am happy, too, that you
want
to meddle, because I honestly need your help. Our family’s happiness—Bea’s, especially, but Claude’s, Aunt Hildy’s, even Uncle Giff’s—is at stake.”

“What about your happiness, and Hawksworth’s?”

Unable to sit still, Alex rose to wander the room. Butter cream damask covered the walls, with pale yellow, robin’s egg blue and soft fern green in the upholstered furniture. The scents of beeswax and citrus freshened the air and calmed the spirit.

“My happiness must be Hawk’s happiness.” Alex turned to her friend. “But would it not be wonderful if they were one and the same?”

“Is that not your goal?”

Alex could only nod for the lump in her throat. She found herself having to swallow before speaking. “I … yes, but for that to happen … please, Bree, you must tell me how to seduce my husband.”

Sabrina rose to go to her. “Good Lord, you are having Chesterfield’s baby!”

Before Alex could answer, a hedgehog scurried across the drawing room.

Having had a great deal of practice, Alex caught the scampering critter and slipped it into her pocket. “Beatrix Jamieson, you little eavesdropper, show yourself this instant.” Muffled giggles and scurrying feet, on the opposite side of a second door, told them that Bea would not be showing herself anytime soon.

Shaking her head, Alex turned back to Sabrina “Chesterfield’s baby? What are you talking about?”

“Why else would it be imperative to seduce your husband, unless it was to make it appear as if he fathered another man’s child—”

Alex burst into laughter and threw her arms about her friend. “Gad, Bree, I have missed you. Of course I am not carrying Judson’s child. I am not carrying anyone’s child. How the devil could I be?”

“Do not say that Hawk has not touched you since he returned?”

Alex paled and looked away. “He has never touched me.”

“What, not even on your wedding night?”

“We had no wedding night. I lied to everyone and went to the St. James’s Hotel alone. Bryce said goodbye at the church after we married. He left for Dover that night and shipped out the next day. Sometimes I think he still finds me an annoyance, like when we were children. Do you think he does? I think he must.”

“I do not think so, not from the way he watched you during luncheon when you were not looking.”

“I wish he would
touch
me when I am not looking, or even when I am. I have tried to spark his interest, but I cannot. No, perhaps that is not quite right. I have sparked it, but I cannot seem to fan it into flame. God, Bree, when it comes to being a wife, I do not know where to begin.”

“In the bedroom?” Sabrina suggested.

Alex smiled. “I suspected as much.”

“Oh my.” Sabrina sat again and patted the seat beside her. “This is going to be very delicate, Alex, but if you want my help, you will have to share some of the more intimate details of your marriage bed with me.”

“There are no intimate details.”

“What nothing? Not even a tense moment when you thought he might devour you as if you were a cream pastry?”

“When he is asleep, he is very … friendly.”

“Excuse me?”

“He pulls me close and says my name.”

“Better than saying another woman’s name. And when he is awake?”

“There has been some interest, mostly when I am wearing one of the nightrails Chesterfield purchased for our honey month.”

“Does Hawk know who purchased them?”

“Good God, no.”

“Then, perhaps you should tell him.”

“Are you out of your mind? Hawk and Chesterfield detest each other. Hawk does not even want me to wear my bride-clothes. He would be furious, he would—”

“Tear them off you?”

Alex grinned. “Like the beast he proclaims himself.”

“Exactly. It is called jealousy. Hawk might imagine Chesterfield seeing you in, or out, of one of those nightrails and realize that if he does not claim you….”

“I … may have ruined the jealousy ploy. I let Hawk believe I might love Chesterfield and now I am afraid that he is thinking of letting me go.”

“Unless he cannot keep from touching you, himself…. Once he gives in to that inclination, it will be too late to let you go.”

Alex laid her head back against the cushions and closed her eyes. “Do you really think so?”

“We may have to dangle you before him for a time, however, and have you walk away when he gets close. What else has sparked his interest?”

“Sometimes the way he looks at me is very disconcerting. And there is that portion of him that … reacts. It happens often, but sometimes at the strangest moments.”

“Like when?”

“There was the time he said he would make me listen if he had to tie me to the bed. But he stopped talking and got an arrested look on his face and … that … happened.”

Bree squealed with delight. “Lord I have the perfect situation in mind. But we must start small and work our way up to the ultimate seduction. Fetch a paper and pencil from my desk and let us make a list of the possible ways to catch his attention.”

“I am not sure if seduction will work, you understand,” Alex said opening the mahogany secretary in the corner and searching for pen and paper. “I am not even certain he is fond of me.”

“Pish tosh. He is. Let me think about what you will need—”

“Money could be a problem, Bree, but do not say anything. Hawk does not want anyone to know.”

“Fine, you have your nightrails. Do you have a lace corset in black?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you may borrow mine, though Gideon might miss it. But we will have to take that chance. I can distract him with another. I will lend you some scented soaps and oils, some ribbons, black too, I think. One for each of the bedposts in the bedchamber where I had Grandmama put you.”

As Sabrina spoke, Alex began to make her list. Then she looked up. “Ribbons for the bed posts? Ah, Sabrina, will I be tying something to the bed?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Hawk and Gideon followed a gangly, red-haired young man into the beeswax scented office of Mr. Warren Fitzwilliams, Esquire, nephew to Mr. Malcolm Fitzwilliams, solicitor to Hawk’s father.

“Gentlemen,” Fitzwilliams, the younger, said as he rose from a well-worn, chestnut leather chair. “Won’t you be seated and tell me what I can do for you on this splendid Autumn afternoon.”

The young clerk interrupted to offer refreshments, and afterward, he backed, literally, from the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Hawk nodded to Fitzwilliams and turned to Gideon. “Gideon St. Goddard, Duke of Stanthorpe, may I present Mr. Warren Fitzwilliams, nephew to my father’s solicitor.”

Gideon and the solicitor exchanged pleasantries, until their attention shifted to the subject heavy on Hawk’s mind. “Frankly, Mr. Fitzwilliams, I find myself mystified and vexed that my wife was not provided for, like all Wakefield widows before her, when it was erroneously reported that I died at Waterloo. How did this miscarriage of all that is proper come about?”

Fitzwilliams pulled at his beard for several long moments as he regarded Hawk with a furrowed brow, clearly at a loss. “I do not understand. Why
would
your wife be provided for?”

Hawk scowled. “Because I am, or was until my, ah, mistaken demise, the Fifth Duke of Hawksworth. I should think that would be answer enough.”

“Oh, but…. Oh my. Were neither you, nor your wife, present, then, for the reading of your father’s will? I did not preside, myself, you see, or even attend. My uncle handled everything, but I remember him apprising me, during his final days, of your father’s peculiar codicil.”

Gideon sat forward. “Are you saying there were stipulations to Hawksworth’s inheriting, of which he knew nothing?”

Fitzwilliams regarded Hawk. “Let us allow your father’s words to speak for themselves, shall we?” He rose and went to a cherry-wood cabinet, opened a drawer and shuffled through a series of yellowed and dog-eared records. “Ah, yes,” he said. “Here.” He withdrew a pouch of parchment, darkened with age and thick with documents.

Returning to his desk, he sat and sifted through the pouch, itself, until he came upon one sheet in particular, revealing less age than the rest, the writing upon it so spidery as to be barely legible. That sheet, he slid across his desk toward Hawksworth.

Aware that he regarded the thing as if it might rise up and strike, Hawk turned to Gideon. “You first.”

Gideon raised a brow. “Are you certain?” At Hawk’s nod, Gideon took up the document, almost with trepidation, read it once, then again. Shaking his head, he handed it to Hawk and sat back to await his reaction.

Hawk barely finished before he barked a harsh laugh. “Disinherited by God! The bounder died making certain I was willing to give my life for his bloody approval, handling me to the last, without honor enough to say that I would be stripped of all but my title, if I chose Alexandra as my wife.”

“I am sorry,” Mr. Fitzwilliams said, calling for his clerk to bring in the brandy.

Hawk watched the clerk pour. “Managed from the grave, by God.”

“And damned-near into it.” Gideon accepted a goblet, himself. “Insidiously controlled, if you ask me. Did your father never say that he took exception to Alexandra?”

Hawk took a sip, closed his eyes, opened them and nodded. “Oh, Father said. He said daily. But he took exception to so many people, who paid attention?”

“But why?” Gideon persisted. “What did he have to gain by disinheriting you? Or, perhaps I should ask what he had to lose, if you married Alex?”

“Status for his name, his title, his heirs. That was all he cared about. Alexandra’s family was not high enough on the social ladder to be considered worthy.” Hawk shook his head. “If he had but known it, back when he first objected, Alex was no more than the pest who shadowed me. He might have put the thought in my head, by forbidding it. Even when we married—” Hawk stopped. How he felt about his wife was immaterial, especially as he had come to care a great deal for her over the last year and a half. More than he had ever thought possible.

“As ruthlessly controlling as your father was—judging by what you told me and I have just heard,” Gideon said. “The man must at least have expected you to attend the reading of his will. He could not have known that you would marry and sail to France before the week was out.”

“If I did not marry Alex, I could not have gone to France. Every member of my family was the better for Alexandra’s care, better even than if I had stayed. If not for her, I could not have gone to fight Boney, for I had too many responsibilities.”

“It seems probable that your father had no more consideration for the members of your family than for you,” Gideon said. “He must have known you could die going to war, but he was willing to send you, anyway. I wonder if a place in history might not have been more important to him.”

“How could my actions affect his place in history?”

“Then power mattered, the power inherent in his ability to control you and the future, even after his death.”

Hawk cursed. “It no longer matters though, does it?”

“I wonder,” Gideon responded, regarding him so keenly that Hawk set his goblet upon the desk and rose.

“You are in the same place, are you not?” Gideon rose, also. “You would have married Alexandra, whether you knew about the will or not. What is the harm now?”

“My family’s strained circumstances might have been eased in advance, had I known. I might never have gone, had I known.” Hawk turned to the hovering solicitor. “The past cannot be changed. I understand that. But is there any way in which this codicil, or the results of it, can be overturned?”

“There are only two circumstances that might produce results, but none are guaranteed. We could attempt to prove your father of unsound mind at the time of the codicil. Or you might seek an annulment or a bill of divorcement.”

Hawk stopped himself from laughing outright at the solicitor’s words. An annulment, by God. If he let Alex go now, he might regain what little was left of his wealth. If he kept her, he would ruin her life, for she would certainly be destitute for the remainder of it. “My father was cunning,” he said. “But never insane.”

“If you do not mind my knowing, Hawksworth,” Gideon said, turning to the solicitor. “Were there any other disapproved brides named by the old Duke?”

The solicitor turned to Hawk seeking his permission to speak, and Hawk gave it with a nod.

“Only the bride you chose,” Fitzwilliams told Hawk.

“Ah, that is rich.” Hawk turned to leave.

“Oh, wait,” Fitzwilliams said. “I have something for your wife, obtained during the transaction she contracted me to perform for her sometime back. She was supposed to have picked this up on the day of her wed—er, ah….” The solicitor coughed. “She never came for it. May I send it along with you now?”

“Of course,” Hawk said, taking a sealed missive and placing it in the inside breast pocket of his frockcoat. He shook the solicitor’s hand, as did Gideon, and they made their way from the Leicester Square building.

At the top of the outside steps, Hawk placed his curly beaver atop his head and regarded Gideon “Say nothing to Alex of this. I need time to think. I do not want her to know that my father disapproved of her. She will blame herself for the loss of my fortune.”

“Nonsense. How could she blame anyone, other than your father?” Gideon said. “But it might be kinder to let her assume that Baxter simply squandered your wealth, which he has about managed anyway.”

“I would have done Alexandra a great service,” Hawk said, pulling on his gloves as they made their way down the marble steps, “if I had not married her in the first place.”

“When did you fall in love with her?” Gideon asked.

Hawk stopped. “In love with her?” Love? He knew nothing of love. “That is rather an impudent question, is it not?”

“We were comrades, we fought side by side. You died in my arms.”

“And saw you weep when I did.”

“Exactly.” Gideon shook his head, denying Hawk’s accusation of impudence. “I am sorry, but I shall retain the right of an insolent brother for the remainder of our days. You were fond of Alex at the time of your marriage. I know you were, but you did not care for her in the same way you do now. That is, also, very plain.”

“What makes you think so?”

Gideon held up a hand. “Do not prevaricate. You never revealed any of it, but I believe I came to know you well enough to realize as much. In addition, today I saw the way you regard her.”

“To use an old cliché,” Hawk said. “I am my father’s son and, therefore, incapable of love. To add another, I have learned that meeting Alexandra Huntington may have been the best luck I ever had. I simply did not know it, until my life passed before me. That really happens, by the way.”

Gideon shuddered. “You will forgive me, if I am pleased to have no such experience.”

“The problem is,” Hawk said once they were settled inside Gideon’s carriage. I have been thinking for months that the best thing I can do for Alex is to let her go. But if I do, what is left of my wealth will revert to me. How is such a decision to be made?”

Gideon nodded wisely. “With the heart, my friend. With the heart.”

“Look who is speaking of hearts, the man who once said he had none.”

Gideon grinned. “Sabrina helped me grow one. And speaking of hearts, you offered tenancies and cottages to seventeen members of our old unit, when I distinctly heard you say you had, what, six cottages left unoccupied?”

“Right. Remind me to write to my manager today and have my carpenters begin building a dozen more.”

“But half of the soldiers and families you took on are leaving for St. Albans today. You heard them. Without your inheritance, do you have the blunt to build?”

“No blunt, but Huntington is enormous. We have a huge home wood and trees aplenty, stone for fireplaces, mud for mortar. And I warned the men, while you were speaking to Stewart and Guilford, that they would be three families to a cottage for a while. Their response was that they would have roofs and hearths, both missing from their lives at the moment. I feel badly that I was forced to take only men with families, however.”

“Those without have a better chance at the odd job anyway.”

“True enough.”

After making the rounds of their Clubs, Hawk and Gideon returned to Gideon’s late in the afternoon. They entered a favorite, small sitting room only to find Alexandra, curled up on a chaise with Juliana sitting on her lap, so totally absorbed that she did not even hear them enter.

Alex spoke to the babe softly questioning, while Juliana, herself, was so absorbed in Alex that she seemed to be trying to respond with little coos and gurgles, her hands waving excitedly in the air.

It was a sight, Hawk thought. A sight to warm the heart. It made him want … everything he could never hope to have.

“Do you see how Juliana loves Alex?” Beatrix asked coming in behind the men with an infant blanket that she brought straight to Alex. “Can we have a baby, Uncle Bryce? Would you not like to have one? Alex, can you get
us
one?”

When Bea mentioned getting a babe of their own, Alex looked up, and her eyes found Hawk’s, and when their gazes locked, something deep and ephemeral seemed to pass between them.

It was uncomfortable and tight, Hawk thought, though he could not put a name to it.

Whatever it was, he wanted none of it … or more of it.