Read How to Seduce a Scoundrel Online

Authors: Vicky Dreiling

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General, #FIC027050

How to Seduce a Scoundrel (44 page)

BOOK: How to Seduce a Scoundrel
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“She knows. But all of that is in the past. I gave up the lease on the love nest. There have been no mistresses. I decided to move back home so that I can embrace my family again. I love your sister.”

“She’s too young. She’s infatuated with you.”

“You think of her as young because she’s your little sister, but she’s a woman. We have both grown as a result of our relationship.”

“Hawk, you are like a brother to me, but I can’t approve of this match. Maybe in a few years, she’ll be ready for marriage, but I know my sister. She is not ready yet.”

He’d once thought the same thing. “You know her from your perspective as an older brother. Talk to her. And listen. You’ll see.”

Tristan narrowed his eyes. “Did you touch her?”

“Leave it alone.”

“Damn you!”

The door opened. Tessa walked inside with the babe over her shoulder.

“Tessa, leave us,” Tristan gritted out.

“Hawk, will you please close the door?” she said calmly as she padded into the room.

He did. “I love your sister, and I will marry her with or without your blessing. I hope it is the latter, because you are like a brother to me.”

“I trusted you! And you touched my sister!”

The babe made a cooing sound. “Tristan, you will frighten Christopher,” Tessa said. “Lower your voice.”

“Tessa, leave us,” Tristan said again.

“No, I will not, because you are being unreasonable. I told you before your sister left for London that she is in love with Hawk, but you would not believe me.”

“Leave us, Tessa. I am going to beat him to a bloody pulp.”

“No, you will not beat up your best friend. You will give your blessing, and you will not pry into their private affairs.”

“Tessa, leave us.”

“Tristan, you will never forgive yourself if you do not give your blessing to him. And I will never forgive you if you don’t.”

“He meddled with my sister. He’s a rake!”

Tessa lifted her brows. “Must I remind you of your own bad reputation?”

Tristan’s nostrils flared. “Sisters are forbidden.”

“Men,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Give your blessing now, and shake hands with Hawk.”

Tristan fisted his hands. “I get one punch.”

“You will not do violence to your best friend. He loves your sister. Do you think it was easy for him to come to you? He knew you would make this difficult. His family is coming for Christopher’s christening. Hawk will be his godfather. Julianne will be his godmother. And soon they will marry, and we will rejoice in their happiness as they rejoiced for ours. Now give your blessing to Hawk and shake his hand.”

Hawk regarded Tristan steadily. “I promise to be a good husband to her. She means everything to me. I am a better man because of her.”

Tristan crossed over to him. Hawk steeled himself for the blow.

Tristan held out his hand. Hawk shook it.

“You have my blessing,” Tristan said gruffly.

“Thank you. I’ll make sure you never regret it,” he said.

“Well, we might as well go back to the drawing room and announce it,” Tristan grumbled. “Mama will swoon. Your family will never believe it. They will think it is another one of your one-hour engagements.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten,” Tessa said. “I once was engaged to
Hawk for the duration of breakfast. I was trying to evade your mother’s matchmaking scheme.”

Hawk cleared his throat. “I wish to propose to your sister first.”

“Let us go upstairs,” Tristan said. “I will close the door behind the two of you. You have five minutes. I will not leave her alone with you any longer.”

“Ignore him,” Tessa said. “Let us go now.”

They trudged upstairs. Tristan muttered under his breath the entire time. Tessa told him to hush. The babe burped.

“Good boy,” Hawk said.

“Men,” Tessa said in a disgusted tone.

When they reached the drawing room, Tristan inhaled. “Everyone must step outside for five minutes, except Hawk and Julianne.”

“Why?” the dowager duchess said.

“Hawk needs to propose to Julianne,” Tessa said.

The dowager duchess held her quizzing glass up to her eye. “Is this another one of your sham engagements?”

“No, it is not,” Hawk said.

“You will not engage yourself to my daughter for five minutes,” the dowager duchess said. “Or for one hour. You are a scamp and a rogue. And your poor mother will go into a decline when she hears my daughter threw you over after only five minutes.”

“I believe he is sincere,” Hester said. “Look at him. He’s lovesick.”

“I am not sick,” Hawk said. “But I am in love. Now, if you will all excuse us, I wish to make a proper proposal to Julianne.”

Julianne rose. “Why should they stand outside the
door?” She walked over to Hawk and grasped his arm. “Come stand with me before the hearth.”

“Julianne, I do not want an audience when I propose to you.”

“You are not proposing,” she said.

“What? I risked a beating from your brother and you are telling me I cannot propose?”

They had reached the hearth. “You are not proposing. I am.”

“No,” he said. “I am making a proper proposal to you, and you will listen and say yes.”

She took his hands. “When I was a little girl, I knelt on my knee and proposed to you. You said I could ask you when I grew up. I am grown up.” She tried to lower herself to one knee and wobbled.

He caught her by the waist and lifted her up. “Damn it, woman. Let me do this properly.”

“Watch your language,” the dowager duchess said.

Hawk’s shoulders shook with laughter. Then he knelt on one knee and took her hands. “Julianne, I love you with all my heart. You have made me a better man. You also tried to steal my curricle, but I forgive you.”

“You stole my bonnet,” she said.

“This proposal is terrible,” Tristan said.

“Hush,” Tessa said. “I think it is sweet.”

Hawk looked at everyone. “Will you let me finish?”

“Get on with it, Marc,” Hester said.

He turned his attention to Julianne again and met her gaze. “Julianne, I love you, and I can’t live without you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, I will marry you.”

He enfolded her in his arms and kissed her.

“Stop that,” Tristan said.

Hawk decided his best friend deserved to witness him giving Julianne a thorough kiss. He opened her mouth and slid his tongue home. She kissed him back.

“Get your hands off my sister,” Tristan growled.

Hawk broke the kiss and framed her beautiful face with his hands. “You have made me a very happy man,” he whispered.

One week later

 

Hawk walked into Westcott’s house in Devonshire. He’d had to make the journey because the old man was too frail to travel to Gatewick Park. Hawk wasn’t sure what to expect, but when Brandon bounded into the great hall, Hawk ruffled his unruly hair. “Your trunks are packed?”

“Yes, sir. All packed. I’ve never been to a wedding before. Is it like church?”

“Sort of, except you’ll see me make solemn promises to Julianne. And afterward, we’ll have a wedding breakfast, with cake.”

“I’ve never had cake for breakfast,” he said. “I suppose I could get used to it.”

Hawk chuckled. “Will you take me to your father?”

“This way. He keeps downstairs now.”

Hawk schooled his features, but his son’s words said it all. Brandon led him into a room with tall bookcases. The frail old man was reclined on a chaise with a blanket covering him. A servant eyed Hawk and walked into an adjoining room that must have once served as a drawing room but now held a bed. Hawk’s insides roiled, imagining what would have happened if Brandon had not sought him out.

“Here he is, Father,” Brandon said. The boy brought his father a cup of tea. The old man drank a bit, and then Brandon took it away to a side table.

Westcott broke into a coughing fit. Hawk was disturbed that it didn’t even faze Brandon. He wondered if his son realized the old man was dying.

“Brandon, I’d like to have a few private words with your father,” he said. “When I’m done, I’ll call you inside. You can tell your father good-bye.” He suspected it would be the last time his son saw Westcott.

When Brandon left the room, Hawk shut the door and took a chair over to the chaise. “I never had the chance to apologize to you. It’s late in coming. I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused you.”

He coughed. “He is my son, even if… he is not my flesh and blood.”

“You have been his father, and from what I’ve seen, you have instilled good principles in him. I can bring him back to see you after the wedding.”

Westcott coughed into a handkerchief.

Hawk winced at the bloodstains. He looked at the servant, who brought another handkerchief and took the soiled one away.

“I don’t… want to let him go.” Westcott breathed heavily for a bit. “But I don’t… want him to see me die.”

Hawk struggled not to let his sorrow for the man show.

“When Brandon was born, you were the father he needed,” Hawk said. “I was too young to be a fit father. I will take over the reins now and ensure he never forgets you.”

“He is… a good boy.”

“He will have a mother, the woman I am to marry.
He has cousins and uncles. A great-grandmother, a great-aunt, and my younger brother, Will. They have all accepted him, sight unseen. I will ensure his inheritance is protected until he is old enough to take over. And I will teach him what he needs to know about managing the estate. You need not worry. I love him.”

“The papers… are on the table.”

Hawk stood and walked over to the table. The papers assigning him guardianship were signed in a palsied hand. He put them inside the leather case and turned back to Westcott. “I will send him in now and give you privacy.”

He walked out of the room. “Your father wishes to see you now.”

Brandon looked somber as he walked into the room. Hawk strode into the foyer and directed the servants to stow the boy’s trunks on top of the carriage.

An hour later, he escorted his son to the carriage. He sat across from Brandon. When the boy reached up to swipe his face, Hawk moved to the other bench and sat beside him. “You’ve every right to cry,” he said.

He held his sobbing son as the carriage rolled away.

Chapter Twenty-four
 

The Three Secrets to a Happy Marriage: Love, Laughter, and Honesty.

 


The Earl and Countess of Hawkfield

 

T
he musicians struck up the opening bars of a waltz. Hawk kept his steps small at first as he danced with his beautiful bride.

All their family and friends stood on the sidelines watching their solitary waltz. Unbeknownst to him and Julianne, all the ladies had secretly planned to hold this ball to celebrate their wedding. Georgette had journeyed with Amy and her parents. Even the five cubs had attended.

Julianne’s eyes were a bit misty. “You are keeping your steps conservative because you fear I will disgrace you.”

“Is that a dare?” Before she could answer, he whirled her round and round in dramatic circles.

“I’d forgotten,” she said. “That night we danced, I offered you a penny for your thoughts.”

“And I bemoaned the fact that you thought my thoughts so worthless.”

“What are you thinking now?”

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I want to bed you.”

She laughed as he whirled her round and round again.

When the music wound down, he slowed his steps and held on to her until the very last note. Then he drew her closer for a thoroughly naughty kiss.

Thunderous applause erupted.

As he led her off the dance floor, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. But others surrounded them. He sighed, wondering how long they must remain at the ball. It had been a long four weeks. He was on fire to make slow love to her.

Hawk looked about the ballroom and spied Brandon talking to the cubs and William. Brandon wrinkled his nose at something Osgood said. The cubs and William guffawed. Lord, he hoped they’d kept it clean for his son’s sake.

He returned his gaze to Julianne and squeezed her hand. They had decided not to take a wedding trip until Brandon’s summer holiday. His son had whooped upon hearing they would go to Brighton for sea bathing.

Tomorrow, they would journey with all his family to Ashdown House. Even Grandmamma had consented. She’d not had a single heart palpitation or sinking spell. But she had called for her smelling salts when Hester had read from Julianne’s notorious pamphlet last evening. Neither he nor Hester had given away her identity. Amy and Georgette, whom he’d learned were in on the scheme, kept mum as well. The speculation about the author’s identity
went on for over an hour. Beaufort, Caruthers, Portfrey, and Benton announced it was written by Charles Osgood.

BOOK: How to Seduce a Scoundrel
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