“She certainly sits a horse well, her pianoforte playing is above par, and I have this feeling I know her from somewhere.” Hawk shook his head. “True, I have never had occasion to spend time with a governess, but something about her implies she is well above that station in life.”
“I’m afraid I’m not sure what you are trying to tell me, Hawk. Miss Moore came to us with an excellent reference.”
“I am in no way suggesting she is not a superb governess, though I cannot imagine anyone wanting to actually deal with children all day.” Hawk took a sip of his coffee. “Please ignore my statements. Perhaps I spent too much time with the Home Office and see puzzles everywhere.”
Wycliff leaned back in his chair. “Leah and I are thrilled that you have decided to visit, but as I said earlier, I sense there is a reason for your holiday other than to renew familial ties.”
Hawk pushed his empty plate away, which was immediately whipped up by a footman. “I had the need to leave London for a while. That is all.”
Wycliff studied him carefully. “You are not still blaming yourself for Monica’s death?”
He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It was my responsibility to investigate the Baron further, delve more fully into the drinking and gambling. When she came to me, I should have listened to her, instead of lecturing…” Hawk toyed with the spoon alongside his coffee cup.
“No, Hawk. Stop this guilt you’ve been carrying around. You were correct in telling her to return to her husband. Most brides do need adjustment time. Leah returned to her parents twice before we settled into a routine.”
Hawk slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the plates, silverware, and the footman standing against the wall. “No! I was her brother. She was under my protection, as are my mother and sister, Honora. It was my responsibility to see to her welfare. I failed.”
“In a perfect world, we make all the right decisions, all the time. But, Cousin, this is not a perfect world. You did your best, but ultimately, it was out of your hands.”
Running his fingers through his hair, Hawk said, “I should have gone with my first instinct when I learned Sheffield was in dun territory and enjoyed his brandy too much, despite his promises that he had it under control.”
Wycliff pushed back his chair and slapped Hawk on his shoulder. “Put all of that aside while you visit, Hawk. After all, it’s been more than a year. I think you’ve worn sackcloth and ashes long enough.”
Miss Moore, Leah, and Wycliff were gathered in the drawing room, awaiting the dinner announcement, when Hawk joined them later that day. His eyes immediately went to Miss Moore, who chatted with Leah. The governess wore a light peach gown with a deeper peach ribbon under the breasts and at the hem.
Her arms waved in the air as she told Leah a tale, and Hawk couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. He also couldn’t help but notice that although a couple of years out of fashion, her gown was of a quality that was generally out of reach for a vicar’s daughter.
“Good evening, ladies, Wycliff.” Hawk took a drink from a footman’s tray. “I assume everyone had a pleasant day?”
“Yes, indeed, I did,” Leah said. “Tuesdays are the days the ladies from the village gather here each week, and we knit mittens, scarves, and hats for the families who are struggling. It is always a lovely time, and we all feel as though we did more than gossip and sip tea.”
“And how were the little ones today, Miss Moore?”
Her face lit up at his question. “Quite entertaining, my lord. For some reason, the lads decided today was the day to play, and not spend any time on their lessons. It took all of my abilities to persuade them to concentrate for even a short time.”
Leah beamed at Miss Moore. “You do such a wonderful job keeping them in line, Miss Moore. I don’t know how we managed before your arrival.”
“Thank you, my lady. They are truly darlings, but I must admit there are days when I wonder what Nurse feeds them for breakfast.”
A footman appeared at the door and announced dinner. They filed into the room informally, taking different seats. With Miss Moore directly across from him this time, he was able to study her without being obvious.
Her creamy skin glowed in the candlelight, highlighting her high cheekbones, the depth of her eyes, and her golden-tipped eyelashes. He should not be looking at her like this. He should not be studying her plump lips and wondering what they would feel like under his. How they would taste. Sweet? Spicy?
Bloody hell, she’s my cousin’s employee!
The footman laid down the first course, and they began to eat the white soup, delicious as food always was at Wycliff Estate. Their cook was one of the best.
“Hawk, Miss Moore has Thursday afternoons off. Perhaps she would enjoy a trip to the village tomorrow. I know one of your favorite bookstores is right there in the center of the square.”
So, Leah saw no problem with him spending time with their employee.
Strange, that.
“I am not sure if Miss Moore would be willing to give up her free time to entertain your guest.” Hawk glanced at the governess.
Miss Moore didn’t answer, but dabbed her mouth with her serviette.
Hawk cleared his throat. “I would be honored to escort you, Miss Moore.”
She stared at him for a moment, and just when he thought she would refuse, she dipped her chin. “I would like that. If you are sure it is not an imposition, I shall enjoy a trip to the village. I’ve been there many times and absolutely adore the bookstore.”
He hated the tinge of excitement at her words. He’d bedded dozens of beautiful women, danced, flirted, and walked in dark gardens with many more, but none of them had affected him the way the thought of strolling along the village square in broad daylight with Miss Moore did.
“’Tis settled, then. Tomorrow we shall take our trip and be sure to visit the bookstore first.”
The rest of the meal continued with pleasant conversation among the four of them, Hawk sneaking as many glances as he could at Miss Moore. She must have been aware of his regard, because she avoided looking in his direction, except when he asked her a direct question.
Then her face flushed, and he detected an increase in her breathing, her lovely breasts rising and falling rapidly. How he would love to place his lips on the warm skin there and inhale the scent of roses he’d noticed when they sat close together under the tree earlier.
Yes, she was as affected by him as he was by her. After months of ennui and racing from one empty experience—including ladies’ beds—to another, it was rather good to be captivated by a woman. A sweet woman, who had no designs on his bed, his money, or his title. Rare, that.
However, nothing changed the fact that Miss Moore was off-limits. At least that was how he viewed it. Except Leah had practically thrown them together with her suggestion of a trip to the village tomorrow.
Did she know more about her governess than she was letting on?
Chapter Six
Several times over the morning Lizzie had decided to send a note to Lord Hawkins explaining she was suffering a megrim and would be unable to accompany him to the village.
Perhaps she was being a coward, but sometimes the way he studied her was terrifying. It was only a matter of time before he recognized her, and the less time spent in his company, the better.
When she had left London, there had been talk that her father had a woman working with him, and the authorities had naturally turned toward her. She’d managed to get through one interview without them hauling her off to Newgate, but it would have been a matter of time before they came back again, asking more questions.
That was when she’d fled, thanks to Lady Franklin.
Aside from the casual reference Lord Hawkins had made the other night to her father being killed, she knew no more than she had when she’d left. She would love to question Lord Hawkins, find out if they were still looking for an accomplice, and how her father had died.
She had
loved her father dearly and had always felt cherished by him. In a weak, drunken moment, he’d admitted that his funds were too low to give her a decent come-out, and that was why he’d gotten involved in “despicable matters,” as he had described it to her.
Appalled at the idea that he had sold out his country for her, she’d lashed out at him, and, unfortunately, that had been the last time she’d seen him.
Aside from her concern about Lord Hawkins recognizing her were the strange feelings he aroused in her. She’d never felt this way before, and it was quite disconcerting. When he was near, the sun shone brighter, the air smelled cleaner, colors were deeper, and she was more alive. She snorted. That was ridiculous.
In any event, Lord Hawkins was awaiting her, and she had not sent a note, so she took one last look in the mirror, straightened her bonnet, and picking up her gloves, left the house.
“Good afternoon, Miss Moore. You look charming, as usual.” He smiled up at her as she descended the steps, and little butterflies swirled around in her middle.
“Good afternoon, my lord. I am looking forward to this trip to the village, and of course, the bookshop.”
“Then we shall be off.” He extended his arm, and she took it as they walked the gravel path and climbed into the waiting carriage.
Hawk tapped on the roof of the carriage, and the driver slowly rolled the vehicle away from the house. “How long have you been in Wycliff’s employ?” Hawkins asked.
Lizzie quickly made a quick calculation to avoid Hawkins figuring out when she’d disappeared from London. “More than a year.”
She turned to study the passing scenery, hoping to discourage conversation about her.
Either by accident or on purpose, he ignored her hint and continued. “Why do I feel like you don’t like talking about yourself?”
She smiled. “Perhaps because I don’t like talking about myself. There is truly nothing of interest about me. I am a vicar’s daughter, and I work as a governess. Surely you have met many women of much more consequence than me.”
“You think there is nothing of interest about you?”
She gave her head a little shake. “Very little, to be sure.”
“I don’t think so.” He leaned back to study her. “I find something intriguing about you, but I cannot put my finger on it.”
Her heart stopped. Oh, why did I agree to this trip with him?
After a few moments, he dipped his head. “Very well. We will dispense with conversation about the very boring governess.” He grinned, and she couldn’t help but return his smile. He was a charming man, no doubt about that. She remembered him, along with his friends, Lord Campbell and Mr. Templeton, from when she had attended ton events. She had never met the Duke of Bedford, who had apparently brought her father back from America.
And killed him.
Bedford had been in the military service when she had been a London debutante. At that time Bedford had been Lord Alex, and his brother, the Marquess of Tavistock, the heir to the Bedford dukedom. Both the Duke and Tavistock must have died to leave Alex the duke.
So many questions raced through her mind. So many things she wanted to know, wanted to ask Hawkins, but her own safety relied on maintaining secrecy.
It was a short ride to the village, and in pleasant weather she had walked the distance, but with rain clouds gathering overhead, she was grateful they had taken the carriage. The vehicle came to a rolling stop at the village green.
Strollers and shoppers were about, hurrying along, most likely wanting to get their errands out of the way before the heavens opened up. She took Hawkins’s arm, and he walked her to the far end of the green and pointed to his left. “I think the bookshop first.”
She was grateful for her gloves and the cloth from his jacket and linen shirt separating their skin. Even with all of that between them, her hand tingled as it rested on his arm. As if he read her mind, he pulled her closer and covered her hand with his. Her heart sped up. This trip with just the two of them was not a good idea.
Had she been acknowledged as a lady and not a governess, she would have had a maid with her as a chaperone. Governesses did not require the same stringent guidelines as ladies hoping to make a successful match had to adhere to. With the way her breathing was now increasing, she understood why chaperones were necessary.
The tinkle of a bell greeted them as they opened the door. She loved the smell of books and inhaled deeply. The shop was larger than most small village bookstores. An older man approached them from the rear of the store.
His elf-like face was almost completely hidden by a mustache, whitened by time, with his head covered by an old-fashioned wig, not quite centered on his head. He barely came up to Lizzie’s chin. “Good afternoon, my lady, my lord. I am Mr. Peabody, and I am at your service.”
Hawkins studied her when Lizzie automatically dipped her head, accepting the greeting, and smiled. Oh, dear. Had she acknowledged being addressed as “my lady” with too much familiarity? Hawkins had noticed.
Rather than make a scene over it, she merely released Hawkins’s arm and spoke to the shopkeeper. “Good afternoon, Mr. Peabody. It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Yes, always nice to see you as well.” He turned to Hawkins. “I feel I know you, my lord, but it’s been a while since you last visited.”
“You are correct. I am visiting at the Wycliff Estate. It has been well over two years since I’ve graced my cousins with my presence.”
The shopkeeper nodded. His wig shifted again, resting lower on his forehead. Lizzie had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “Please take your time and enjoy your visit. I will be in the backroom going through a new shipment if you need anything.” He bowed and left them.
“Mr. Peabody is such a sweet old man,” Lizzie said as he ambled away. She pulled off her gloves and tucked them into her reticule. “Now I shall do exactly as the bookseller said and enjoy myself.”
“As will I.” Hawkins turned from her and walked to an area against the far wall, and Lizzie breathed a sigh of relief. It would not have been possible for her to relax and browse the shelves if Lord Hawkins had remained next to her.
Her stomach continued to do funny little things when he was near enough to smell the scent of Bergamot, mixed with something minty, and to feel the warmth of his body right through their clothes.
She pulled a book from the shelf and flipped through the pages, but instead of her eyes on the tome, she studied Hawk. It was very easy to see why he disturbed her so. He was truly the most handsome man she had ever seen.
He was long limbed, with powerful thighs covered by tight-fitting pantaloons, and he sported shiny Hessian boots. His shoulders filled out his jacket quite well, a generous chest tapering down to slim hips. His starched cravat had been meticulously tied under his firm, arrogant chin.
She studied the way his straight raven-black hair fell over his broad forehead as he turned the pages of the book he held in his strong hands. She shuddered, thinking of those hands gliding over her naked skin.
Wherever is that thought coming from? Suddenly feeling quite warm, she waved her hand in front of her face, wishing she had one of the fans she’d always carried to balls. Just then, Hawk glanced up at her. His smile did nothing to cool her off.
Lizzie purchased a slim volume of poetry at the bookstore. Next, they strolled to the milliner for two ribbons, a bakery for tarts that Hawk insisted she eat right then, and finally to The Purple Cow pub, where they had tea with small watercress sandwiches and fresh-from-the-oven biscuits.
“I promised not to talk about you, but one thing I must know.” Lord Hawkins grinned at her over his mug of ale.
“I told you I am not very interesting. But I will allow one question.”
He placed his mug on the table and took her hand in his. “If you were not a governess, what would you be, Miss Moore? A princess? A queen? What were your dreams when you were a little girl?”
His hand was warm, strong. His thumb rubbed over
her knuckles, and she had the sudden urge to tell him everything. Share the burden she’d borne for two years. She stared into his deep brown eyes and saw more than she wanted to. She tugged her hand back and tilted her head in a saucy manner. “Why would I stop at princess or queen? I would be a king, or a knight in shining armor on my trusty steed.”
He lowered his head, and his mouth moved closer to her ear. “Maybe you need a knight in shining armor, Miss Moore.”
She sucked in a breath. Whatever made him say that?
“Do you?”
She licked her lips, and his eyes moved to her mouth. “Do I what?”
Lord Hawkins took her hand again, holding it tighter so she couldn’t pull away. “Do you need a knight in shining armor?”
She certainly did. But she’d given up that fairy tale two years ago. As if awakening from a dream, she drew back and took the last sip of her ale. “There is no such thing, my lord.”
As if he realized he’d stepped over the line, his shoulders stiffened, and he pushed his empty mug away. “I agree. There are no fairy tales. At least none with happy endings.”
Perhaps there were, but they were definitely not for her. The closest she would ever get to a happily ever after was by reading storybooks to the children.
“Another question.” The rakish gleam was back in his eyes.
“My lord, I allowed one question.”
He placed his hand over his heart and gave her the grin she was sure had women all over London swooning at his feet. “I swear this is my last one.”
“Very well.”
“I asked this of you before, but you neatly dodged the question. Why is a beautiful woman like yourself not married?”
She leaned her chin on her fist and responded, “Why is a handsome man like yourself not married?”
Lord Hawkins burst out laughing. “Touché, Miss Moore.”
He stood and held out his hand. “The sky looks a bit threatening out there.” He nodded in the direction of the window. “I think we have used up all our good luck. It appears we are about to be drenched.” He tugged her forward and, placing his arm around her waist, hurried her to the carriage waiting for them.
Captivating the Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love) Page 4
