by Amanda Scott
“There will be a crowd?”
“Usually is. Certain to be if they see you in that getup. Sorry, Mollie, but there it is.”
“No, it isn’t,” she assured him. “You wait right here, and I’ll be ready in a trice. Now, mind,” she added, glaring at him, “don’t go without me, or you won’t believe the dust I’ll raise, the both of you.”
Ramsay regarded her warily but said nothing, and Harry only grinned, so Mollie flew back upstairs, where she unearthed the gentleman’s clothes she had not forgotten to bring with her and flung them on as quickly as she was able. The arrangement of a cravat was beyond her, so she merely flung one around her neck, snatched up her beaver hat and a long cloak, and hurried back downstairs.
“You’ll have to help me,” she told the astonished Ramsay. “No, don’t,” she added when he opened his mouth to expostulate with her. “Just fix this stupid neckcloth and let us be off. I’ve a mind to see the lamplighter, and no mere matter of dress is going to stop me.” She tucked her hair firmly under her hat while Ramsay quickly did what he could with the cravat.
The boy chuckled. “By the Lord Harry,” he said, “you make a bang-up gentleman, Mollie, but what if Hawk catches you?”
“He won’t. He’s gone to White’s for the afternoon, and we shall be back long before he is. Did Bates know you intended to leave the house, by the bye?”
“Oh, of course,” the boy replied carelessly, adding as he moved toward the front door, “I’ll just call up a hack. We don’t want to make a stir by taking the coach.”
“Good Lord, no,” his brother agreed. “The coachman would recognize Mollie in a trice.”
The oil lamps in the parish of St. Margaret’s, in Westminster, had been replaced by gas nearly six months previously, but crowds of the curious, hoping to witness an explosion, still followed the lamplighter on his rounds. The Colporters found a number of such people awaiting the arrival of that worthy when their hackney coach set them down in Margaret Street just across from the New Palace Yard. They discovered that they would have some minutes yet to wait, however, for as one rather ragged, bewhiskered fellow told them, talking around a bite of fish taken from a chunk wrapped in greasy newsprint, “The lamplighter dassn’t begin till nigh onto dusk, me young coves.”
Harry was fascinated by the myriad of folk gathering for the event, and Mollie took her opportunity while his attention was diverted to speak to Ramsay. He had clearly been awaiting her questions.
“I can’t tell you a thing,” he said flatly. “Hawk said we must keep the lid on it.”
“But I wouldn’t say anything to a soul,” she promised him. “You know I wouldn’t. Was he angry with you about the money?”
He grimaced but assured her that Hawk had not been nearly so angry as he might otherwise have been.
“Because of what you discovered about d’Épier,” she put in shrewdly. “That he is a spy?”
“Now look here, Mollie, you cannot go about saying things like that. This is a public place, after all. The Lord knows who might overhear you.”
“Pooh. No one is giving us a second glance. They are all on the watch for Harry’s lamplighter. So you might just as well tell me why he wanted you to spy on Hawk?”
“We should never have said so much in front of you,” he said distractedly. He gave her a long look. “Very well, Mollie, I’ll tell you what I can, but you must say nothing to anyone else until Hawk and Bathurst can get proper evidence to hang the fellows.”
She paled. “Hang them?”
“Well, of course. What else does one do to traitors?”
Mollie thought about it and could come up with no satisfactory answer. She stared at Ramsay. “What is your brother mixed up in, exactly?”
He admitted reluctantly that he did not know. “Not exactly, anyway. I have been putting d’Épier off as much as I can get away with it by telling him all the information he wants is in Hawk’s and Bathurst’s heads, that in order to prevent information from falling into the wrong hands, nothing has been written down. He thinks I have been pumping Hawk over the port after dinner, or some such stuff, when in fact Hawk decides just what I am to tell him. I say, Mollie, you won’t tell Hawk I’ve spilled the gaff, will you? He’ll be angry, since he said I was to keep mum.”
“You haven’t told me anything he would care about,” she reassured him. “I’m sure he doesn’t want the news bruited about town, but I shan’t tell anyone, so you needn’t fret. Where has Harry taken himself, I wonder?”
They found him, and the lamplighter came at last, but darkness had fallen and it was much later than they had expected it to be when their hackney coach returned them to Grosvenor Square. It was decided that it would be safer for all concerned if the coachman were to let them off on Upper Brook Street near the mews road, so that they might take advantage of the rear entrance to the house. Realizing that she would have to hurry if she was to be dressed in time for dinner, Mollie hurried on ahead, and while Ramsay was paying off their driver, she slipped through the garden gate and in at the back door. She made it safely to the upstairs hall, but as she hurried across the landing toward her bedchamber, Hawk, elegantly attired in leg-hugging gold tights, a green velvet doublet, and green trunk hose slashed with gold satin, stepped into the hall from her little sitting room. She stopped dead, regarding him in dismay. He lifted his quizzing glass and peered at her, his right eye horribly magnified.
“Where the devil have you been in that rig?” he demanded, both eyes narrowing. “By heaven, Mollie, if I find you’ve been meeting—”
“I’m sorry to be late, because I know you wish to leave directly after dinner, but truly, we—”
“We? Who, pray tell, is ‘we’?” There was a clatter of footsteps on the stairs behind her, and Mollie stepped aside to give him a clear view of his two brothers as their heads cleared the landing. “What the devil?” Hawk repeated, lifting his glass again.
It was Harry who answered him, looking anxiously from Mollie’s worried face to his older brother’s angry one. “She went with us to watch the lamplighter light the gaslights, sir. We thought you would not mind her going if she took care not to be recognized as a lady.”
Hawk’s stern gaze turned upon the boy. “I’ll deal with you later, young man. Right now you may go up to the schoolroom and explain to Mr. Bates how it comes about that the lessons he assigned for this afternoon have not been attended to. He has been looking for you.”
“By God, you rascal,” Ramsay exclaimed on a note of exasperation, “you assured me that you had Bates’ permission for this outing!”
Harry made no attempt to answer him or to meet Mollie’s reproachful look, but Hawk informed Ramsay that he would have to wait his turn if he wished to scold the boy.
“I’ll have a word or two for you as well, sir, on the subject of escorting ladies who dress in male attire,” he added sternly, “but for now you may as well go to your rooms and get dressed for the evening.”
“Dear me,” said Lady Bridget, appearing in the doorway to her bedchamber at the end of the hall, “what is all this row?” Then, as she recognized Mollie, “Good gracious, Mollie, never tell me you have dared to wear those clothes here in town! Whatever will people think? Gavin, you ought never to have allowed such a thing.”
“I did not allow it,” he replied grimly, turning back to face Mollie. “May I assume from her words, my lady, that you have made it a common habit to don such clothing for occasions other than to practice your archery?”
Much as she would have liked to be able to deny the charge, Mollie didn’t dare. “There have been certain other times,” she said carefully, meeting his gaze as steadily as she could.
“I cannot think she has been wise to do so, Gavin,” Lady Bridget said with unaccustomed firmness, “and so I have told her a number of times. Perhaps you will be able to convince her that the practice is an unwise one.”
“Indeed, I shall,” he promised her. “Do not wait dinner for us, Aunt Biddy. This may ta
ke a while. I shall join you, however, in time to depart for the Argyle Rooms. Mollie, I fear, will not be going with us.”
“Not going!” Mollie stared at him. “Of course I shall be going. Do not heed him, ma’am. I shall be down to dine directly.”
“Oh, no, you won’t,” Hawk informed her, taking her arm in a firm grasp. “I have been a deal too easy with you, my girl, but the time has come for a reckoning between us. Your folly seems to know no bounds, but I intend to see an end to it tonight, once and for all.”
12
PULLING OFF HER BEAVER hat as she entered the sitting room, Mollie shook her long hair free and turned to face her husband. Without taking his eyes from her, he shut the door carefully behind him. Mollie tossed the hat into a nearby chair.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“We’re going to have a talk,” he replied, gesturing toward the chair where her hat reposed. “Sit down.”
“Very well, sir,” she said, obediently moving the hat and taking her seat, “but I warn you, there is nothing you can say that will keep me away from the Argyle Rooms tonight.”
“You will remain here,” he said flatly, “because I command you to do so. It is time and more that you recognize the fact that I am home to stay, my girl, and that you no longer have the privilege of doing as you please simply because whimsy moves you. I can think of no better way to make your position clear to you. Perhaps the punishment is a trifle severe, even arbitrary, but there are men who would deal even more harshly with you as a result of your little escapade this afternoon.”
She knew that was perfectly true, but the knowledge did nothing to reconcile her to her situation. She wondered how far he would go to ensure her obedience. “I will not stay here, sir,” she said calmly. “You will have to lock me in my room if you mean to prevent my going.”
The expression in his eyes hardened. “I shall do no such thing, Mollie, but I can promise you that you will not like the consequences if you defy me.”
She believed him, but she could not submit so easily. “You are not being fair, Gavin. I was wrong to go out dressed like this, but nothing dreadful came of it, and I shan’t do it again. You are being arbitrary and dictatorial as well, all the things you promised you wouldn’t be.”
“You still don’t understand, do you?” he said, frowning. “I know you are used to going your own way, and I know you resent the fact that a husband who has neglected his duties for too long a time still has the legal authority to interfere with your pleasures. I have done my damnedest to grant you the freedom you desire. But you have not kept your part of the bargain. First you allowed your name to be linked with that damned Russian, and now this. You don’t meet me halfway. You do things without counting the cost. In other words, madam, you have grown too accustomed to going your own road. Someone needs to call a halt, and it’s my responsibility to do so.” He moved a little away from her then and stood looking out the window into the shadow-filled square below.
Mollie glared at his back, but deep inside she knew he had made a valid point. She had promised to recognize his authority, but she knew she had been thinking at the time of his authority to rule over Hawkstone Towers, over Ramsay, and over Harry. She had not really accepted his right to command her obedience. In point of fact, she had fought him every inch of the way. With a grimace she realized the fault this time had been entirely hers.
“Very well, sir,” she said at last; sighing. “I own that you have the authority to keep me at home. I shall not defy you. However, I still think your decision is arbitrary and unfair.” Her glance sharpened. “Moreover, I should like very much to know what you will tell Mr. Brummell when he asks you where I am. Will you tell him I am indisposed? I had thought your passion for truth would make such a response impossible. Yet, if you tell him you have ordered me to remain at home, will that not initiate the exact sort of gossip you wish to avoid?”
Hawk shifted his position and turned his head to look at her. There was a warmer expression in his eyes, and the stiffness in his countenance had relaxed. “You would remain here if I ordered you to do so?”
She nodded, wondering at the change in him.
“Come here, Mollie.” There could be no mistaking the look in his eyes now, and the little smile playing about his lips confused her even more. Mollie sat where she was, regarding him with a bewildered air. “I said to come here,” he repeated. “Or is your acceptance of my authority so short-lived that you would now defy the simplest command?”
Entirely bewildered now, she got slowly to her feet. The cravat around her throat was too tight, and she tugged at it, loosening it. She had no idea what he intended, and though his expression assured her that he meant her no harm, she could not help feeling vulnerable as she approached him. Hawk gave a crooked little smile when she hesitated.
“I won’t bite,” he said gently. “Come to me.” When she stood directly before him, she felt as if he were already touching her, although at first he did not. She looked straight ahead for a moment, her eyes on his broad chest. Then his hand came to her chin, tilting her face up so that she had to look at him. “You are certain you would obey my command without further argument?”
She nodded again. “I have said so.”
“Then, you may dress for dinner.” There was amusement in his eyes now. His anger had evaporated.
Mollie felt more confused than ever. Would she never understand this man? “And the ball?”
He chuckled. “I certainly don’t intend to eat my mutton in this rig unless your gown is equally antiquated, sweetheart.”
“Then—” She broke off, staring at him, hoping to read his thoughts in his face. Surely he wasn’t satisfied merely to have her verbal submission. Was that all he had looked for? Her thoughts whirled as she tried to figure him out. Then it came to her that she had won a victory, after all, and she could not stop the light of it from leaping into her eyes. “I know what it is,” she told him, unaware of the ghost of a smile that teased at her lips. “It is what I said before, is it not, that you would be unable to account for my absence?”
“No, my idiotish child,” he replied, his hands moving to her shoulders to give her a firm shake. “I wouldn’t hesitate, should Brummell show such uncharacteristic bad manners as to press for an explanation, to tell him we had decided that you would remain at home for an evening of recuperation. The fact of the matter is that I sense a change in your attitude that I have been waiting a long time to see, and since I prefer to attend this ball tonight with my wife rather than without her, you shall go. However, your tone of voice, not to mention that foolish little smirk of triumph, reminds me that you do require punishment for your misbehavior today. I believe I can promise that you will continue to reflect upon your folly throughout the festivities tonight.”
Her expression changed to alarm as his hand moved to grip her elbow firmly and he turned her toward her bedchamber. The first thought to cross her mind was that he intended to beat her, but the glint of amusement in his eyes reassured her. Her bedchamber was empty.
“You will first oblige me by removing those disreputable clothes,” he said matter-of-factly.
Swallowing hard, but nonetheless reassured by the fact that she could still detect no anger in his countenance, Mollie moved slowly to obey him. Dropping her cloak upon the bed, she soon sent the coat after it, and her hands moved slowly to the buttons of her waistcoat.
He stood patiently, waiting, his hands folded across his chest. At the last button her fingers hesitated. “Take it off, Mollie. Then the shirt. Or do you require my assistance?”
She shook her head, unfastened the last button, and shrugged out of the waistcoat. The cravat was already loosened, so it was a simple matter to pull it off. But she had nothing on under the shirt, and she had no wish to remove it while he stood staring at her. She straightened her shoulders.
“I should prefer to ring for Mathilde to assist me with my costume, sir.”
“No doubt. But I do not wi
sh it, and you are learning to submit to your husband, my dear, as a proper wife should. Take off that shirt.” When she still hesitated, he gave a little shake of his head as if he had expected no less, and moved to assist her. Mollie backed away, but it was no use. Hawk merely reached out a hand to draw her closer, and the next thing she knew, one of his hands was at the small of her back while the other moved slowly across the shirtfront, teasing her nipples through the thin lawn. Hawk grinned when she gave a little gasp of dismay and tried to pull away from him.
“No, sweetheart,” he murmured, continuing to caress her.
As always, her body responded instantly to his touch, and when he pulled the shirt loose at her waist and slipped his hand beneath it to cup her bare breast, Mollie gave a little moan and moved closer, standing on tiptoe to put her arms around his neck, pulling his head down so that she could kiss him.
Hawk gave a little chuckle, deep in his throat, as his lips claimed hers. Both of his hands moved under her shirt and around to her back now, stroking her soft skin, holding her close. Then they moved back to her waist, to the fastenings of her pantaloons. A moment more and the trousers slipped to the floor, baring her hips to his touch. He lifted his head long enough to pull off her shirt, and she stood naked, her eyes alight with passion. Hawk drew her back into his arms, kissing her eyes and the bridge and tip of her nose; then he took her mouth hungrily, his tongue parting first her lips, then her teeth, and then moving on to explore the velvety interior. His hands roamed everywhere now, arousing her until every inch of her skin burned and tingled.
Mollie clutched at him, her fingers moving through his thick hair while her tongue darted and danced with his. His hands were driving her wild, but she wanted more. The stiff cloth of his doublet was irritating. She wanted to feel his skin next to hers. Impatiently, she reached for the lacing, but at the same moment, Hawk scooped her into his arms and moved to sit upon the bed, holding her in his lap. He caught her small hands and held them easily in one of his own behind her back, causing her breasts to thrust themselves forward. Ignoring her protests, he continued to caress her with his free hand while his lips moved teasingly along her jawline and lower to her throat.
