Secrets of Seduction (24 page)

If Skye was
frustrated by her lack of matchmaking progress with Hawk, she could at least claim victory for her uncle. Later that evening when the guests gathered around the tea tray in the drawing room, Cornelius took Rachel’s hand and led her to the mantel. Facing the company with her, he cleared his throat in order to make a special announcement.

“Ladies and gentleman, you see before you the most fortunate of men. My dearest Rachel has at last consented to become my bride.”

Wondering what had caused the baroness’s change of heart, Skye glanced at Rachel for confirmation and found her smiling shyly.

“I told Cornelius about his daughter,” Rachel admitted, “and he has forgiven me for keeping the truth from him all these years.”

Cornelius made a slight scoffing sound. “I could not understand her continued refusal to wed me, but I kept pressing and finally wore her down. Indeed, I was overjoyed to learn of my flesh-and-blood offspring.”
He gazed down at Skye and Kate. “You both have been like daughters to me, but it will be good to come to know Daphne.”

Both cousins leapt to their feet to embrace their uncle with delight and even a few tears of joy.

“We are elated that you are finally marrying, Uncle,” Skye assured him.

Katharine chimed in. “And we will welcome Daphne into the family with open arms.”

Lady Isabella seemed just as delighted. “This calls for a toast in celebration. May we raid your wine cellar, Lord Hawkhurst?”

“Certainly.”

Hawk, Skye realized, had already summoned a footman and was giving orders for a particular vintage of Madeira to be brought in. Once the glasses were poured, he led a round of toasts.

Skye felt her cup of happiness running over at the tender way her uncle was gazing at his true love. Yet seeing their joy only increased her own feelings of longing. She wanted that same, wonderful happiness with Hawk—a goal that seemed just as distant as ever.

She could very well be renovating his castle for another woman, Skye reminded herself. Even so, she was sparing no effort to transform his sad house with its tragic ghosts into a home free of haunting memories. It was no small triumph that the emptiness and grief in Hawk’s eyes had vanished for the most part. He seemed less grim, for certain. And that afternoon when they’d tromped through the wooded parkland, enjoying the autumn sunshine together, she had coaxed him to let down his guard yet another degree.

For a few precious moments, he’d actually looked carefree, his normally shuttered expression transformed by the smile in his gray eyes. That rare, beautiful smile had the power to enthrall her, as did the slightest physical contact. When Hawk’s palm had pressed the small of her back to guide her down a different path, the simple gesture had sent a shock of awareness rocketing through Skye. She’d found herself remaining close, just to have another chance to feel his touch.

The tension was a sweet torment. For nearly half an hour, she’d fought the urge to throw her arms around him. And finally she couldn’t stop herself from stealing a fleeting, impulsive kiss.

Sensation had streaked through her at that brief, forbidden taste of him. Judging from the spark of fire in Hawk’s eyes, he’d felt a similar jolt.

In truth, Skye could still feel the heat of his lips now. She took another sip of wine, willing herself not to lose heart. Instead, she needed to focus on the fate of her beloved uncle.

She was glad, therefore, when Rachel’s acceptance of his proposal led to an intense discussion of their daughter, Daphne, and how to reveal her parentage to her. They couldn’t simply approach her with the harsh, unvarnished truth. It would be shock enough to discover that her mother was still alive without the blow of learning that William Farnwell was not her father.

Accordingly, in the past few weeks, Kate had made it a point to become better acquainted with Daphne.

“I particularly tried to probe her feelings about her family,” Kate divulged to the group. “Daphne sounded
highly wistful when she said she wished she had known her late mother. So I believe she would be pleased to learn the truth.”

“I’ve given the question serious thought,” Skye interjected. “I think it would be kinder if we allow Mrs. Nibbs to tell Daphne. As midwife, she birthed Daphne and helped care for her when she was a motherless baby. And they still have a sincere fondness for each other.”

“Do you mean in a letter?” Rachel asked. “That seems so cold and callous.”

“Not a letter,” Skye agreed. “It would be best done in person.”

“But Daphne lives in London, not Kent.”

“Yes,” Kate replied. “She prefers town to Farnwell Manor, chiefly to avoid her brother, Edgar. But there is no justification for her to visit Kent now … unless we were to fabricate a reason—perhaps say that Mrs. Nibbs had taken gravely ill.”

“No,” Rachel objected quietly. “There have been enough lies already.”

“Then we must take Mrs. Nibbs to London.”

Skye concurred. “Kate and I can travel to Brackstone and engage Mrs. Nibbs’s help. We could leave as early as tomorrow.”

Hawk spoke up. “We should courier a message to her first to prepare her for making a visit to London.”

After further discussion, it was settled that Skye and Kate would leave the day after next and persuade the midwife to make a journey to London with them.

They also discussed the importance of discretion. In addition to Horace Linch’s findings about both Barons Farnwell, Macky had recently sent Hawk a report.
Hawk had also consulted his attorney regarding the rules of inheritance. If a nobleman remarried while his first wife was still living, the second marriage would be considered invalid and bigamous and any children illegitimate, and the title and entailed property would devolve according to the original patent of nobility. Therefore, Edgar would not be the legal heir to the Farnwell barony.

Presumably, Edgar wouldn’t want a horrific scandal to taint his or his late mother’s name, but undoubtedly he wouldn’t want his inheritance threatened. So they must continue to keep Rachel’s existence a close-held secret.

Moreover, there was no love lost between Daphne and Edgar, Kate explained with feeling. “Lord Farnwell dislikes that she achieved her financial independence from him. For years he and his solicitors controlled her purse strings and kept her under his thumb, until Daphne managed to acquire a wealthy patron who funds her research into various species of roses. She not only has won accolades for her scientific endeavors but has earned significant sums for her drawings and watercolors.”

Skye was glad that they were making headway in potentially reuniting Rachel with her daughter—and hopefully, sometime in the future, Daphne with Cornelius. But another event of note occurred that night that dimmed the glow of success for Skye: her courses came. They were a bit late, enough that she’d begun to wonder if she might be enceinte.

The loss she felt was foolish and inexplicable. She should have been relieved that she wasn’t carrying Hawk’s child outside of wedlock. She didn’t want
him to be forced to marry her because of a sense of responsibility or a guilty conscience. But her failure to conceive could instantly end their future together.

Not surprisingly, her cousin immediately detected her despondency and demanded to know what was wrong, and Skye was forced to prevaricate.

“I am perfectly fine, dearest Kate. It is merely pain from my monthly time.”

Quite naturally, Kate was avidly curious about Skye’s romance with Hawk, but while they had always shared most confidences, this one matter seemed too intimate to discuss even with her closest friend.

The need to fib disturbed Skye yet confirmed what she had long suspected: She had fallen deeply in love with Hawk.

Madly, irrevocably in love.

He owned her heart, now and forever. Her yearning for him was a physical ache in her chest—as was her fear. In all likelihood, Hawk might never open his heart to her. He’d suffered the cruelest pain imaginable, and he would not overcome his loss easily, no matter how much she willed it.

For an instant, Skye considered holding off telling him about her condition in order to gain more time with him. But if she had learned anything at all in the past weeks, it was that Hawk wanted honesty from her. And if she ever hoped to win his love, she would have to employ honorable means, which meant abandoning her usual reliance on feminine wiles and giving him the unvarnished truth.

Therefore, she quietly asked for a private word with Hawk, and when they met in his study, Skye told
him in very few words about her courses, searching his face all the while.

His expression remained as enigmatic as ever as he replied. “That is good then.”

And somehow his dispassionate response hurt more than she ever dreamed it would.

Skye’s news, however, was not nearly as welcome as Hawk had expected. As soon as she left his study, the realization struck him with startling force: He would have liked having another child.

His mind went back to an image of Lucas as a newborn baby, how proud and joyous he’d been at becoming a father, the adoration he’d felt upon holding his tiny squalling son for the first time. And then Lucas as a toddler in leading strings, the fierce love he’d felt …

Strangely, the agony of remembering was gone, the recollection more bittersweet and poignant than gut-wrenching.

He was letting go of the pain, Hawk realized, in large part because of Skye. She was vibrant and warm, like sunlight, and, like sunlight, she had healing powers. For a decade, the hollowness inside him had been like a dark, empty pit, but he could slowly feel himself coming alive again, much like his house.

And once she’d departed for Kent with her cousin, it became starkly evident how she had changed his home for the better. Skye’s absence didn’t keep him from thinking about her often, either, or—worse—realizing how badly he missed her.

It was amazing to long for someone who had entered his life only recently, Hawk conceded. But he
missed her liveliness and optimism. He missed the warm light in her eyes.

In short, he simply missed
her
.

Skye missed Hawk greatly as well, but she forced herself to concentrate on informing Daphne Farnwell about her mother’s survival in the kindest way possible.

Mrs. Nibbs was ecstatic to learn that her beloved mistress had made it safely to Ireland and was now back in England once more. And despite the increasing fragility of her body and mind, the midwife was eager to help.

Skye and Kate both thought it best to break the news in gentle stages and judge Miss Farnwell’s reaction at each step, beginning with the fact that Rachel hadn’t drowned but had taken refuge in another country, and then her reason for fleeing. If Daphne showed anger at her mother, or unwarranted sympathy for her late father, they would divulge nothing further just then.

But Skye hoped Daphne would be eager to make her mother’s acquaintance, and, if so, she would be invited to Hawkhurst Castle.

When they arrived in London, it was late afternoon, but they chanced calling then rather than waiting another day at a more proper time. Daphne lodged in an elegant town house belonging to her wealthy patron, the Countess of Gowing.

Daphne’s features bore a certain resemblance to Rachel’s, Skye noted when a footman showed them to the library where Miss Farnwell was reading. But her golden brown hair and her light blue eyes, combined
with the twenty-five-year difference in their ages, made their likeness much less obvious.

Daphne looked surprised and troubled when Mrs. Nibbs appeared unexpectedly on her doorstep and was very solicitous of the old woman’s health, settling her before the hearth fire and ordering hot tea and a warm shawl to be brought in immediately.

Daphne also claimed to be honored by a personal visit from the Wilde ladies. At her quizzical look, Kate deferred any explanation by saying they would let Mrs. Nibbs tell the story.

When the midwife was situated comfortably, Skye watched closely and was unsurprised when Daphne initially reacted much as Lord Cornelius had done.

Shock came first. “My mother did
not
die?” she rasped.

“Nay, her ladyship was only forced to pretend so,” Mrs. Nibbs answered.

“Whatever do you mean? Why would she
pretend
her death?”

“You see, it was like this, Miss Daphne.…” The midwife gave a curt summary of William Farnwell’s cruelty to his lady wife, making it clear that Rachel’s very life had been threatened.

The horror Daphne clearly felt was written on her face. After absorbing those revelations in silence for a moment, she pressed her lips together tightly. “That does not astonish me as it ought. Papa could be brutish. It was shameful, how he treated some of our servants.”

“Aye, it was indeed,” Mrs. Nibbs agreed.

Another moment passed before Daphne’s revulsion
and anger was overtaken by bewilderment. “Then what happened to my mother if she didn’t drown?”

“She took refuge with a cousin in Ireland.”

Confusion and hurt swiftly followed. “But why did she leave me here with my father? If she was alive, why did she never attempt to see me?”