had flustered her and raised one eyebrow as she walked lightly ahead of him.
“Refused the duke of Hawkscliffe! How very singular! So, why wouldn’t your merry widow marry you?”
Hawk’s gaze slid after her, intrigued by her nervous reaction.
“She had done her duty, provided heirs,” he said casually. “She had her fortune and wanted nothing to do with settling down a second time, not with me or anyone. God, how I wanted her. But she only desired to be free and independent.”
“There’s nothing wrong with independence if a woman can get it.”
“Well, this particular lady has lived to regret her choice, I assure you.”
She turned back and looked at him finally. “Came crawling back to you, did she? The merry widow wasn’t so merry after she’d had her fun?”
“Rather.”
“So you cast her off? Tossed her into the street?”
He smiled wryly as he gazed ahead down the path. He was too much a gentleman to admit that willing bed partners had never been in short supply for him. Still, though he preferred discreet, exclusive liaisons with sophisticated women, sooner or later, every lover he had ever taken ended up shrieking hysterical, baffling accusations at him that he didn’t care about them, or was too absorbed in his political career, or something along those lines. When they threatened to leave him, he rarely argued, for in his experience, women could be neither pleased nor comprehended.
He jarred himself back to Miss Hamilton’s expectant gaze. “Suffice it to say that people only get one chance with me, my dear. I am generally intolerant of the foibles of those around me; I cannot abide foolishness. It is a failing in my nature, I know, but I’m repaid for my lack of charity by laboring under an even higher set of standards for myself than those by which I measure others. Now, I’m sure that is quite enough about me,” he declared, taking her hand. He led her gently off the graveled walk to the waterside. “I want to know about you.”
“What do you wish to know?”
He steadied her as she stepped daintily from one large gray rock to the next, holding her soft yellow skirts clear of the mud. “Everything.”
“There isn’t much to tell. Born: Kelmscot, Oxfordshire,
third September, 1791
. Languages: French, some Latin. Accomplishments: plays the piano indifferently, can’t draw. Loves history and cats.”
“Cats, eh? What about dogs?”
“A little wary of dogs, I confess. Especially large ones.”
“Hmm, I have six of them. Mastiffs and
Newfoundlands
. Each one weighs more than you do.”
She shuddered. “His Grace lives in a kennel.”
“They’re not allowed in the house. Tell me something else.”
“Such as?”
He looked straight into her eyes. “What’s going on between you and Dolph Breckinridge?”
She stiffened, staring into his eyes for a long moment, looking utterly wary.
“Dolph Breckinridge is an ass,” she said finally. “That is all I have to say on the topic.” She looked away, pretending to gaze at the water.
“Do I detect a jilt?”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“Well?”
She snorted with ladylike disdain. “Dolph has been the bane of my existence these past ten months. You saw the way he behaved with me last night. I know that you saw.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t sure what I was witnessing, a lover’s spat or what.”
“A lover’s spat?” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Ugh, I’d sooner kiss a toad. Must we talk about this? The very thought of him spoils the day—”
“My dear Miss Hamilton, you know full well that Dolph is going to come after me in a fury the moment he hears that I kissed you—”
She held up one finger. “Excuse me, but it was I who kissed you.”
“Either way, I deserve to know what I’m dealing with.”
“It’s your own fault. You’re the one who insisted on a second kiss,” she reminded him, poking him in the chest.
“Oh, you didn’t like it?” he asked pleasantly.
She gave him an arch
“Refused the duke of Hawkscliffe! How very singular! So, why wouldn’t your merry widow marry you?”
Hawk’s gaze slid after her, intrigued by her nervous reaction.
“She had done her duty, provided heirs,” he said casually. “She had her fortune and wanted nothing to do with settling down a second time, not with me or anyone. God, how I wanted her. But she only desired to be free and independent.”
“There’s nothing wrong with independence if a woman can get it.”
“Well, this particular lady has lived to regret her choice, I assure you.”
She turned back and looked at him finally. “Came crawling back to you, did she? The merry widow wasn’t so merry after she’d had her fun?”
“Rather.”
“So you cast her off? Tossed her into the street?”
He smiled wryly as he gazed ahead down the path. He was too much a gentleman to admit that willing bed partners had never been in short supply for him. Still, though he preferred discreet, exclusive liaisons with sophisticated women, sooner or later, every lover he had ever taken ended up shrieking hysterical, baffling accusations at him that he didn’t care about them, or was too absorbed in his political career, or something along those lines. When they threatened to leave him, he rarely argued, for in his experience, women could be neither pleased nor comprehended.
He jarred himself back to Miss Hamilton’s expectant gaze. “Suffice it to say that people only get one chance with me, my dear. I am generally intolerant of the foibles of those around me; I cannot abide foolishness. It is a failing in my nature, I know, but I’m repaid for my lack of charity by laboring under an even higher set of standards for myself than those by which I measure others. Now, I’m sure that is quite enough about me,” he declared, taking her hand. He led her gently off the graveled walk to the waterside. “I want to know about you.”
“What do you wish to know?”
He steadied her as she stepped daintily from one large gray rock to the next, holding her soft yellow skirts clear of the mud. “Everything.”
“There isn’t much to tell. Born: Kelmscot, Oxfordshire,
third September, 1791
. Languages: French, some Latin. Accomplishments: plays the piano indifferently, can’t draw. Loves history and cats.”
“Cats, eh? What about dogs?”
“A little wary of dogs, I confess. Especially large ones.”
“Hmm, I have six of them. Mastiffs and
Newfoundlands
. Each one weighs more than you do.”
She shuddered. “His Grace lives in a kennel.”
“They’re not allowed in the house. Tell me something else.”
“Such as?”
He looked straight into her eyes. “What’s going on between you and Dolph Breckinridge?”
She stiffened, staring into his eyes for a long moment, looking utterly wary.
“Dolph Breckinridge is an ass,” she said finally. “That is all I have to say on the topic.” She looked away, pretending to gaze at the water.
“Do I detect a jilt?”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“Well?”
She snorted with ladylike disdain. “Dolph has been the bane of my existence these past ten months. You saw the way he behaved with me last night. I know that you saw.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t sure what I was witnessing, a lover’s spat or what.”
“A lover’s spat?” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Ugh, I’d sooner kiss a toad. Must we talk about this? The very thought of him spoils the day—”
“My dear Miss Hamilton, you know full well that Dolph is going to come after me in a fury the moment he hears that I kissed you—”
She held up one finger. “Excuse me, but it was I who kissed you.”
“Either way, I deserve to know what I’m dealing with.”
“It’s your own fault. You’re the one who insisted on a second kiss,” she reminded him, poking him in the chest.
“Oh, you didn’t like it?” he asked pleasantly.
She gave him an arch
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