Lord Hawkridge's Secret

Sarah couldn’t forbear a smile. ‘I could not say with certainty. But I do know that Charles was not best pleased to discover that the affair was to be far grander than first planned. Furthermore, you must give Drusilla her due. She might be terribly spoilt, but she’s definitely no fool. It is her ambition to make a truly splendid match, and showing a sulky face to the polite world isn’t likely to attract many contenders for her hand. I believe she has set her sights quite high—a countess, no less, although Godmama mentioned earlier, when I was here, that her daughter is rather taken with your Lord Hawkridge.’

‘He isn’t my Lord Hawkridge,’ Emily countered, hoping that she hadn’t sounded waspish, but fearing from her friend’s suddenly guilt-ridden expression that she had. ‘I’m sorry, Sarah. As you might have guessed already I am a trifle on edge this evening.’

The fingers of her left hand received a brief, reassuring squeeze as Emily raised her eyes and looked about the room for that tall, well-remembered figure. She didn’t immediately perceive him standing amidst a group of gentlemen in the far corner of the room. It was only when he turned his head and she received the full impact of an unwavering gaze from all too perceptive grey eyes that she realised that the gentleman immaculately attired in a long-tailed black coat, which emphasised the breadth of superb masculine shoulders, and tight-fitting trousers, which did little to hide the muscular shapeliness of long legs, was none other than the being who continued to plague her dreams all too frequently even after all these years.

‘Oh, dear God! He’s coming over,’ she muttered, striving to control the sudden pounding of that erratic organ beneath her ribcage. ‘Why couldn’t the wretched creature have allowed me at least a few minutes in order to compose myself?’

Although Emily had finally revealed her true state of mind, Sarah wouldn’t have supposed for a moment that the young woman beside her was suffering the least distress, for on the surface she appeared remarkably composed, extending a steady hand, which was immediately captured and retained in shapely fingers, and greeting the man whom she had never ceased to love without so much as a tremor in her pleasantly mellow voice.

‘Hello, Em,’ he responded in a deep, throaty tone that was no less appealing than the smile he bestowed upon her, before glancing briefly in Sarah’s direction.

Emily, quite beautifully maintaining her control, was not slow to perform the introductions. ‘I do not believe you are acquainted with my friend Miss Nichols, Lord Hawkridge.’

‘No, I have not had the pleasure,’ he admitted, releasing Emily’s fingers in order to clasp Sarah’s small hand briefly in his own.

‘You were out when I arrived at the house, sir,’ she hurriedly remarked in an attempt to hold his attention and allow Emily time to take a few steadying breaths. ‘You had driven over to see Sir George Maynard, I believe.’

‘I didn’t realise that you were acquainted with our local magistrate, Hawk,’ Emily commented, easily regaining his full attention.

‘Oh, we’ve bumped into each other on a few occasions at our club, don’t you know.’

Sarah detected her friend’s slight frown at the drawled response, but was unable to remain to offer further support, for Lady Deverel was attempting to catch her eye, and she was obliged to slip away.

‘Pretty girl,’ his lordship remarked, taking out his snuffbox, and receiving a second frowning glance. ‘What’s wrong, Em?’ he asked as deep blue eyes looked him over from the carefully dishevelled arrangement of his mid-brown locks down to his fashionably clad feet. ‘Don’t I pass muster?’

To her amazement Emily found herself experiencing an acute stab of disappointment at the needless affectations he appeared to have acquired during their long separation. ‘I strongly suspect that those tales I’ve been reading about you in the newspapers in recent years are all too true. Be careful, Hawk, that you do not turn yourself into a complete man-milliner.’

Only for a second did his eyes narrow fractionally, before he returned the small silver box, its contents untouched, to his pocket. ‘You too have changed, m’dear.’ His gaze lingered for a moment on the square-cut neckline of her dress and what it temptingly revealed. ‘You have blossomed into a woman.’

Emily was powerless to prevent the tell-tale colour rising in her cheeks. She did not like this Sebastian Hawkridge. No, not a whit! The man she well remembered had been no tailor’s dummy, nor had he possessed the knowing gaze of the hardened rake. She had always felt so safe, so secure whenever he had been with her. She felt anything but safe now in the company of a man who might easily have been a complete stranger.

‘Yes, Lord Hawkridge, I fear we have both changed.’

‘In your case, m’dear, the changes are most definitely for the better. You have become a most elegant young lady.’

‘And you, sir, have become an accomplished flirt,’ she parried lightly in an attempt to conceal her rapidly mounting disappointment. ‘You’ll be telling me next that I’m the most beautiful girl in the room.’

The crooked half-smile which she remembered so well was suddenly tugging at one corner of his shapely mouth. ‘Oh, no, my dear. You may have altered during our years apart, but not, I strongly suspect, to the extent that you are susceptible to insincere flattery. Miss Drusilla Deverel has the edge in the looks department, as you well know,’ he returned, with that admirable candour which she had always admired.

‘That’s better,’ he announced, with a further easy smile, when she found it impossible to suppress a chuckle. ‘Now, before that young man who is purposefully heading in our direction whisks you away, would you grant me the pleasure of calling upon you tomorrow? I’ve been hearing some wonderful tales about you startling the populace by tooling yourself about the countryside in a curricle. Perhaps you might even be gracious enough to take me up beside you?’

‘Of course,’ she responded without considering the wisdom of her answer. But it was already too late to change her mind. The son of a near neighbour was standing before her requesting her as a partner in the next set of country dances, and Lord Hawkridge, after executing a graceful bow, chose not to linger.

Although far more successful in concealing the fact, Sebastian had been equally disturbed by this their first meeting in a very long time. The years he had spent in London perfecting the role of a wealthy, pleasure-seeking care-for-nobody had certainly stood him in good stead for just such an occasion as this. But it had not been easy to maintain the impersonation where Emily was concerned, even for those few short minutes.

When last he had seen her she had been scarcely more than a girl, coltish and slightly awkward, but the intervening years had wrought many changes. ‘Blossomed’ was the word which best described it, he decided, relieving a footman of a glass of champagne, and positioning himself beside the wall, where a huge vase of flowers partially concealed him from those taking part in the dance. Yes, Mother Nature had certainly performed her task well where Miss Emily Stapleton was concerned, bestowing upon her delightful feminine curves, and finely honing the delicate features into perfect symmetry.

But had all the changes been purely superficial? he could not help wondering, as he keenly followed her graceful progress down the set. Or had she matured mentally too? First impressions would suggest strongly that she had. Was the time now right for him to honour the pledge that he had made to the late Laura Stapleton? Should he attempt to woo her daughter in earnest? More importantly, could he afford to wait any longer? It would be madness to assume that, just because Emily had betrayed no interest in any gentleman during their years apart, she would continue to remain content with her single state. Another Season in Brighton with her late mother’s sister was looming large on the horizon. Then afterwards perhaps London might beckon, where numerous gentlemen bent on making the leap into matrimony would look very favourably upon such a sweetly packaged piece of merchandise. Time, clearly, was no longer on his side. She was the only female to whom he had ever proposed marriage, and against all the odds she had rescinded. Was he really prepared to risk the possibility of experiencing the humiliation and pain of rejection a second time? His mind might advocate the use of caution, and yet…

Smiling to himself, Sebastian carried his wine across to the room set out for cards. For tonight his head would continue to rule his heart. But for how much longer acumen could persist in winning the battle over desires if he remained in this locale was anybody’s guess!

Chapter Four

Understandably enough, Sarah’s conversation at the breakfast table the following morning was all of the party, and how enjoyable it had been. Even John Stapleton surprisingly expressed his pleasure in the evening, before he sought the quiet confines of his library. Only Emily, it seemed, had been less than favourably impressed. She had arrived at Deverel Hall experiencing the gravest misgivings at the prospect of coming face to face with Lord Hawkridge. Yet a few hours later, when she had left in the carriage, she had felt nothing so much as acute resentment over his behaviour towards her.

Not once, throughout the entire evening, had he taken the trouble to ask her to dance. What was worse, he hadn’t attempted to seek her company a second time. Yet on several occasions throughout the evening she had seen him moving gracefully about the dance floor, while entertaining his various partners with his light-hearted banter. Moreover, he had been among those besotted fops who had languished at Drusilla Deverel’s pretty feet.

But why should she care? Emily wondered, desperately striving to convince herself that she was not suffering from that most unpleasant emotion—jealousy. It stood to reason that, now he had come into the title, Sebastian would one day be obliged to take the matrimonial plunge if only to beget an heir. When he had proposed to her he had been just plain Mr Hawkridge, and she had much preferred that man. The person she remembered, sincere and reliable, bore little resemblance to the male mannequin whose concerns undoubtedly didn’t rise above the set of his neck-cloth or the arrangement of his locks. Yet just once, when they had spoken together, she had believed she had glimpsed the Sebastian Hawkridge of old.

Perhaps she had imagined it, though, she decided, automatically rising from the table to help Sarah and Mrs Budd clear away the breakfast dishes. The man of whom she had thought so highly had been far too discerning, far too astute to be beguiled by a lovely face. He would have had little difficulty in recognising the selfish conceit lurking beneath Drusilla Deverel’s beautiful façade. She shook her head, at a complete loss to understand what had happened to him. Was it possible for someone’s nature to change so much in the space of a few short years? Yes, perhaps it was, she decided, after a moment’s consideration. All the same, she could not rid herself of the niggling suspicion that the manner he had adopted at the party had been something of an act.

‘Are you going out this morning, Miss Emily?’

Startled out of her reverie by the housekeeper’s enquiry, Emily recalled the foolish promise she had made and was now obliged to keep.

‘Unfortunately, yes, Budd,’ she responded testily, which induced Sarah and the housekeeper to exchange startled glances, for they both knew how much she enjoyed being out in the fresh air. ‘Would you be kind enough to ask Amy to go across to the stables and inform Finn that I require the curricle in half an hour.’

Silently cursing herself for taking the trouble to entertain someone who appeared to have had little difficulty in ignoring her very existence, not just last night, but for the past five years, while conveniently forgetting that his lordship had never once failed to send her a present on her birthday, Emily begrudgingly took herself back upstairs to change her attire, and was in the process of tying the strings of her bonnet, when Amy entered the bedchamber to inform her that both Lord Hawkridge and Sir Charles Deverel had arrived at the house.

Although still consumed by biting resentment, Emily did not delay in making her way down to the parlour to discover Sarah there too, dressed in her outdoor clothes. The faint hope that Lord Hawkridge might have called to cancel the planned outing was quickly dashed, but her spirits revived when Sir Charles announced his intention of joining the outing and taking Sarah up beside him.

‘You look remarkably well pleased about something,’ his lordship commented, attaching himself to Emily the instant they stepped out of doors.

She was, but she had no intention of admitting to it, especially not to the man whose conduct she found increasingly puzzling, for today he had dropped that annoyingly affected drawl, and was more casually attired, seeming far more like the Sebastian Hawkridge of old.

‘I feel that there’s more than just a touch of spring in the air today,’ she responded lightly. ‘Why shouldn’t I be pleased?’

‘Yes, I must agree. Spring, it appears, is nipping at a few people this year.’

Emily looked up at him sharply, noting the glint in his eyes before he turned to watch Charles assisting Sarah into the phaeton, and wondered for a moment what he had meant, before deciding that he, like herself, must have observed the attention Charles had paid his cousin at the party. It was without doubt the only satisfying aspect of the entire evening, especially when Charles had made a point of dancing with Sarah. Which was more than the man beside her had requested her to do! Resentment reared its ugly head again, and it was as much as Emily could do to stop herself from slapping his hand away when he politely assisted her into the carriage.

‘There’s no need for you to come along, Finn,’ Lord Hawkridge announced, clambering up into the seat beside her. ‘I’m capable of taking care of your young mistress.’

Emily could hardly believe her ears, and almost found herself gaping in astonishment. What a crass nerve to be giving instructions to her servants! she inwardly fumed, and was not reluctant to give voice to her annoyance.

Sebastian regarded her for a moment in silence, noting the angry set of the determined little chin, as she gave the bays the office to start. ‘I’m sorry, Em,’ he apologised softly. ‘I took it for granted that you wouldn’t require your groom’s presence. I didn’t take into account that you might have become nervous in my company.’

‘Of course I’m not nervous!’ she snapped, before something struck her as odd. ‘And how came you to know my groom’s name, may I ask?’

A moment’s silence then, ‘I was speaking with your grandfather last night. I suppose he must have mentioned it then. He spoke highly of Finn, as I remember. Said that he went everywhere with you.’

Having by this time regained control over her temper, Emily could only wonder at herself for losing it so easily in the first place. It simply wasn’t like her to take a pet over mere trifles, and behave like some overindulged child who had been thwarted. Unfortunately she had never experienced the least reluctance in giving full rein to her feelings when in Sebastian’s company, and old habits, it seemed, were hard to break.

‘Yes, he does,’ she confirmed, striving to concentrate on her horses, and ignore the warmth exuding from that powerful frame too closely positioned beside her in the seat. ‘Grandfather engaged him shortly after I came to live in his house. I must confess I resented it at first, not being allowed to go out on my own, but I’ve grown accustomed,’ she admitted. ‘Not that I think his presence is necessary. Nothing ever happens down here.’

‘That isn’t what I’ve heard,’ he countered, swift as a flash. ‘I understood you came upon a body, lying in the road, not so very long ago.’

Emily didn’t attempt to hide her surprise. ‘How on earth did you discover that? I don’t believe Grandfather told you. I doubt he even recalls the incident.’