up, startled and disappointed. How had her ladyship and her aunt managed to appear so suddenly and so silently, very like thieves in the night, to spoil her conversation with Hawke?
“To be sure, it is a most curious gift to offer one’s betrothed,but then my son never will follow the usual custom,” Lady Allred continued. “Show the thing to your aunt, Lady Elizabeth, so she might understand.”
Reluctantly Lizzie turned the painting, wishing she could keep Hawke’s gift entirely to herself. She wasn’t precisely sure who Hawke’s “hopeless Philistines” might be, but she could guess that Aunt Sophronia would be one.
“Gracious, that is a curiosity,” her aunt said, her painted brows arching with bewildered dismay. “I know taste is a variable quality in matters of art, but couldn’t Your Grace have found a painter with more ability for so important a gift for my niece?”
Lizzie didn’t answer, but at once looked to Hawke, who was already looking at her , and making it clear without any bothersome words that he was thinking exactly the same thing as she.
Finally he sighed deeply, a sigh of commiseration that was also meant for Lizzie alone, and reluctantly turned to her aunt.
“Your niece shows a wondrous appreciation for fine painting, Lady Carbery,” he said, adding a slight bow to deflect notice from how he’d just insulted Lady Sanborn’s own lack of taste. “With your permission, I should like to invite her to call upon me at Hawkesworth Chase, so that I might show her my collection of pictures.”
“Certainly not, Hawkesworth,” Lady Allred said sharply before Lizzie or her aunt could reply. “It would not be proper. If after you are wed you insist on showing those pictures of yours to your wife, then I could not protest, but now—”
“Then I will marry her at once,” he said, taking Lizzie’s hand. “Will Thursday suit you, Lady Elizabeth?”
“Thursday, Your Grace!” exclaimed Aunt Sophronia with genuine horror. “That is but three days away. Nodecent wedding can take place with only three days’ notice.”
“You are being ridiculous, Hawkesworth,” said his mother, equally outraged. “Even three months would be a prodigiously short time to arrange a wedding between persons of your rank.”
But to Lizzie’s infinite joy, Hawke’s expression did not change, nor did his resolve falter. After all, he was a duke, and accustomed to getting whatever he pleased.
“Three weeks, then, three weeks from this day,” he said evenly. “There, I’m the very spirit of compromise. Is that agreeable to you, Lady Elizabeth?”
What was three weeks when she’d marry him in three minutes if she could?
“Yes, Hawke,” she said, her smile wide and her heart full. “Oh, yes.”
“A ruby?” asked Brecon with surprise. “For Lady Elizabeth’s wedding ring?”
“Yes, a ruby,” Hawke said as Mr. Boyce, the jeweler, carefully placed the ring on the velvet-covered tray before him. “A ruby full of fire, like her.”
But Brecon, sitting at the jeweler’s table beside him, could only frown. “Diamonds alone, white and pure, would be a more suitable choice,” he suggested. “She’s your wife, Hawke, not another of your little Neapolitan inamoratas. Surely there must be scores of diamonds in your family waiting for you.”
“There are,” Hawke said. “As you can well imagine, Mother attempted to force them upon me in the name of tradition. But I’d rather my wife had a new stone, without any family entanglements. She’ll be the first to wear it, and she’ll make it hers.”
Carefully Hawke took the ring between his thumb and forefinger and held it up to the sunlight coming through the shop’s window. Countless shades of red danced from the square-cut center stone, flashing this way and that as he turned the ring. The ruby was surrounded by two rows of diamonds, and the stones were set in heavy gold, with a band fashioned like a swirling vine around the finger. He’d
“To be sure, it is a most curious gift to offer one’s betrothed,but then my son never will follow the usual custom,” Lady Allred continued. “Show the thing to your aunt, Lady Elizabeth, so she might understand.”
Reluctantly Lizzie turned the painting, wishing she could keep Hawke’s gift entirely to herself. She wasn’t precisely sure who Hawke’s “hopeless Philistines” might be, but she could guess that Aunt Sophronia would be one.
“Gracious, that is a curiosity,” her aunt said, her painted brows arching with bewildered dismay. “I know taste is a variable quality in matters of art, but couldn’t Your Grace have found a painter with more ability for so important a gift for my niece?”
Lizzie didn’t answer, but at once looked to Hawke, who was already looking at her , and making it clear without any bothersome words that he was thinking exactly the same thing as she.
Finally he sighed deeply, a sigh of commiseration that was also meant for Lizzie alone, and reluctantly turned to her aunt.
“Your niece shows a wondrous appreciation for fine painting, Lady Carbery,” he said, adding a slight bow to deflect notice from how he’d just insulted Lady Sanborn’s own lack of taste. “With your permission, I should like to invite her to call upon me at Hawkesworth Chase, so that I might show her my collection of pictures.”
“Certainly not, Hawkesworth,” Lady Allred said sharply before Lizzie or her aunt could reply. “It would not be proper. If after you are wed you insist on showing those pictures of yours to your wife, then I could not protest, but now—”
“Then I will marry her at once,” he said, taking Lizzie’s hand. “Will Thursday suit you, Lady Elizabeth?”
“Thursday, Your Grace!” exclaimed Aunt Sophronia with genuine horror. “That is but three days away. Nodecent wedding can take place with only three days’ notice.”
“You are being ridiculous, Hawkesworth,” said his mother, equally outraged. “Even three months would be a prodigiously short time to arrange a wedding between persons of your rank.”
But to Lizzie’s infinite joy, Hawke’s expression did not change, nor did his resolve falter. After all, he was a duke, and accustomed to getting whatever he pleased.
“Three weeks, then, three weeks from this day,” he said evenly. “There, I’m the very spirit of compromise. Is that agreeable to you, Lady Elizabeth?”
What was three weeks when she’d marry him in three minutes if she could?
“Yes, Hawke,” she said, her smile wide and her heart full. “Oh, yes.”
“A ruby?” asked Brecon with surprise. “For Lady Elizabeth’s wedding ring?”
“Yes, a ruby,” Hawke said as Mr. Boyce, the jeweler, carefully placed the ring on the velvet-covered tray before him. “A ruby full of fire, like her.”
But Brecon, sitting at the jeweler’s table beside him, could only frown. “Diamonds alone, white and pure, would be a more suitable choice,” he suggested. “She’s your wife, Hawke, not another of your little Neapolitan inamoratas. Surely there must be scores of diamonds in your family waiting for you.”
“There are,” Hawke said. “As you can well imagine, Mother attempted to force them upon me in the name of tradition. But I’d rather my wife had a new stone, without any family entanglements. She’ll be the first to wear it, and she’ll make it hers.”
Carefully Hawke took the ring between his thumb and forefinger and held it up to the sunlight coming through the shop’s window. Countless shades of red danced from the square-cut center stone, flashing this way and that as he turned the ring. The ruby was surrounded by two rows of diamonds, and the stones were set in heavy gold, with a band fashioned like a swirling vine around the finger. He’d
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