He played with the damp curls resting on her shoulder. “No.”
“Why not?”
He shifted so he was facing her. “How good it is depends on who is in your arms.”
“Indeed?” She studied him for a minute, then a slight smile twitched her lips. “What does that mean?”
His lips twitched. “You are going to make me say it, aren’t you?” He sighed and rested his forehead on hers. “It means you have captured my heart. I love you, Lady Hawkins.”
Lizzie’s smile widened. “And I love you, Lord Hawkins.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lizzie fiddled with the spoon next to her teacup as Hawk and Cam made plans for the break-in at her father’s townhouse. It was the morning of the third day after their arrival in London and the three were finishing up breakfast. Cam had returned that morning, which had given her and Hawk the privacy of the house for a few days.
They had used it well. On every piece of furniture in every room that had a lock on the door. And some without a lock when they’d been feeling particularly daring.
“The men watching Loverly’s townhouse report no one has shown interest in it. I’m assuming whoever it is we’re looking for is confident nothing else is in the house that the Home Office has not already confiscated.” Cam took a sip of coffee and placed the cup on the table.
“Good. The last thing I want is to have someone from the Home Office see me and Lizzie sneak into the place.” Hawk produced numerous pages of sketches and laid them on the table. “I have spent quite a bit of time with Lizzie these last days going over the layout of the residence, indicating from her memory where various furniture was located—to avoid bruised knees in the dark—and all the places her father might have hidden anything damaging to someone desperate enough to kill her.”
Cam’s eyebrows rose. “You mean I left the two of you alone for three days and you spent the time drawing? Not well done, Hawk.” He grinned.
“Not at all.” Hawk placed his hand over Lizzie’s and squeezed. “Rest assured we found other ways to occupy our time.”
Lizzie blushed a deep red, as images of the various places and times of day and night she and Hawk had “otherwise occupied their time” flooded her mind. In fact, in the very room they sat in, on the table where they ate breakfast, on the floor in front of the fireplace, and up against the wall. She remembered that one with fondness. She’d been quite enthusiastic that time, and Hawk’s shoulder still bore the bite marks.
She glanced sideways at Hawk who smirked, most likely recalling the same. She grinned back.
Cam rolled his eyes and shook his head, pushing his coffee cup away. “All right, children, let’s get back to work, and discuss your plan. As much as I would like to stay and see this through with you, I received a summons this morning from one of my estates in Scotland to retrieve a package of great importance as soon as possible. No other information, just the necessity for me to arrive post-haste.”
“That is rather odd,” Hawk said.
“Indeed, and quite bothersome. I do not like being ordered about, but if this has to do with one of my estates, I best deal with it. I have found that leaving loose ends dangling in the wind often turns into major problems.”
Hawk leaned back and crossed his arms. “We wait until dark. Either tonight or tomorrow would be best because there will be a full moon. We can’t take the chance of lighting a candle in the house should someone passing by notice it and summon the Watch.”
Cam nodded. “Then what? The Home Office directed you to bring your wife in. I imagine that request still holds?”
“No matter. That will not happen. I won’t bring Lizzie anywhere near the Home Office until the person wishing her dead is caught and in prison.”
“It sounds like you have it all planned out. I hope your trip to the townhouse brings results. I can imagine how frightening it is for the two of you.” Cam took one final gulp of his coffee and stood. “I will be in my library finishing up a few items to prepare for my trip.”
…
The next evening with the sky clear and a full moon casting the night into a silvery glow, Hawk took Lizzie’s hand as they left through the back door of Cam’s townhouse. They were both dressed all in black, with Lizzie wearing breeches and a man’s cap pulled low on her head. He had decided a walk to the townhouse would garner less notice than arriving in a hackney. Tucked safely into his jacket pocket were the drawings of the layout of the house.
So much depended on uncovering evidence that the person anxious enough to send a killer after Lizzie believed to be in her possession. Once they had that in hand, he would present it to the Home Secretary. Then he and Lizzie could get on with their lives.
As they walked stealthily along the pavement through Mayfair, keeping close to the shadows, Hawk pondered that thought. When he’d gone to Wycliff Manor, the last thing on his mind had been marriage.
He’d already developed a fancy for the governess before he’d learned who she was. Her high spirits and bit of devilish demeanor had drawn him in. She was quite different from other young ladies of the ton, which was most likely why she’d survived her father’s betrayal and made a new life for herself. She was a strong woman, one to be admired and respected.
Now that they’d been alone together for days, and especially after the taste he had of her in his bed—and everywhere else in the house—he was quite pleased with his decision to marry.
The cloud of despondency that had hung over him for the past year had slowly disappeared. For the first time in many months he embraced hope. Anxious to see what changes his new life would bring him. With his countess by his side.
They were well suited in many ways. He’d been surprised and delighted at how receptive she had been in the bedchamber. So far nothing he’d introduced to her had shocked or upset her. It was most likely due to her not having a mother to terrify her about the marriage bed, as so many ladies of the ton did to their daughters. He looked forward to many years of discovering new and interesting ways to pleasure each other.
Another point in her favor was despite the scandal caused by her father, she had been raised to be a nobleman’s wife. She was gracious, charming, well-educated in the necessary skills, and would make an excellent hostess for him, and a mother to their children. Yes, things had worked out very well.
In the quiet of the night, Hawk realized Lizzie was panting alongside him. He’d been caught up in his thoughts, almost forgetting she was with him, and striding along at his usual pace. The poor girl was having a hard time keeping up with him. He immediately slowed down.
“Is something wrong?” Lizzie asked.
“No. I just realized you are having some difficulty matching my stride. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “No, I prefer to hurry along. I want to get this over with.” She shivered.
“Are you chilled?”
“No.”
He wrapped his arm around her and drew her next to his body. “Fear not, wife of mine, this will be over soon.”
“One can only hope.”
…
One can only hope.
The words echoed in her mind. Would her life ever return to normal? But, of course, her prior normal would not be the life she would have from now on. She was a married woman—a countess. As much as she was grateful for the protection Hawk’s name gave her, she had also traded her freedom to do as she liked and placed her very life and happiness into a man’s hands.
The last time she had been in that position was with her father and that had not ended well. Sometime in the near future, after this mess was cleared up, she and Hawk would have a conversation on how they were to go on. She didn’t want to be subjected to a man’s decisions. Had her father confided in her about his money troubles they might have solved the problem together. She certainly would not have endorsed the track he’d decided upon.
While she enjoyed Hawk’s protectiveness, she did not want it to be all encompassing, leaving her out
of decisions, and not allowing her a say in matters that concerned her.
They stopped in front of her townhouse and Hawk looked around. No one was about, but he still led her around the back.
“How will we get in?”
“Trust me.” He moved to the door and drew something from his pocket. He squatted and inserted the implement into the lock. He wiggled it a bit, then the latch clicked, and the door drifted open about five inches. He stood, returned the item to his pocket, raised his finger to his lips, and took her hand. “Stay behind me,” he whispered.
They crept into the dark room. They were entering the kitchen. Lizzie immediately shivered, remembering so many days spent here, begging Cook for biscuits. She could still feel the warmth from the now-dark fireplace, and the scent of cinnamon and yeast from the bowls in shadow on the shelves along the walls. They continued up the servants’ stairs to the ground floor and moved down the corridor to the library. “We will start here.”
Once she stepped into the room, Lizzie wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming sense of loss that engulfed her. Her father’s chair sat behind the large desk where he’d spent many hours going over ledgers. It was here that she would sit, as a small child, and play with her toys while he worked. Sometimes he would invite her to sit on his lap and he would read her a storybook.
Since Mama had died when Lizzie was very young, Father was the only parent she remembered. On a darker side, it was also here that he’d told her what he had done to finance her Season. Unbidden tears flooded her eyes, choking her. Her chin quivered and she wanted to sink to her knees and cry her heart out.
Instead, she wrapped her arms around her middle and turned her back to Hawk. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she made no sound. Hawk touched her shoulder and turned her around. She backed up a few steps, shaking her head, her eyes downcast. “Come here, Lizzie.” He reached out and pulled her against his chest. “Cry, sweetheart.”
“You don’t understand,” she blubbered. “He was such a good father to me. My only parent.” She fisted her hands in her eyes. “He made one horrible, devastating mistake and that is all he will ever be remembered for.”
“Not by you.” Hawk’s thumb and index finger rubbed her neck as he merely held her and let her speak.
“And the last thing I said to him was how I hated him for what he’d done.” She pulled back and looked up at him. “I will never forgive myself for that.”
“We all do and say things when we are under duress that we wish we could take back. But life doesn’t work that way. We must move on and live the way the person we let down would want us to live. If your father went to that extreme to see you have a successful Season, then he loved you very, very much. You know in your heart that had he the opportunity, he would have forgiven those remarks. That is what you must hang onto.”
Her cries had turned to soft hiccups. She accepted the handkerchief Hawk handed her. He continued to rub her back for a few more minutes. He kissed the top of her head. “Now I think we best get on with our mission here. The more we linger, the better chance there is of someone finding us.”
“Yes. You are right. I am better now. I was just seeing all this.” She waved her hand.
“I understand. You search the desk, although I’m sure that was the first place the Home Office would have looked. I will tackle the bookshelves, to see if I can find anything hidden between the pages, or behind the books.”
Lizzie nodded, and taking a deep breath, she moved to the desk and pulled out the drawer in the center. She slid her palm underneath it for a secret panel and found nothing. She almost laughed at herself. That sort of thing only happened in books.
After a full hour of searching every inch of the library, Hawk fisted his hands on his hips and surveyed the room. “There is nothing here. I would say your father’s bedchamber is next.”
He looked down at her where she sat on the floor, her legs crossed in a most unladylike manner. Thank goodness for breeches. She had scoured every inch of the library while Hawk had pulled books from the shelves.
They trooped upstairs, taking apart all the bedchambers, as well as the drawing room. They eventually moved to the wine cellar, then food storage rooms and even the attic. They turned up nothing.
Right before sunrise, Hawk and Lizzie sat side-by-side on the floor, their backs resting against the wall, since many pieces of furniture were missing. “I hate to say this, my dear, but it appears whatever it is that has someone very nervous is not in this house.” Hawk turned to her, tucking the always wayward curl behind her ear. “There is a very good chance whatever notes or incriminating papers he had he took with him to America.”
“That is what I am thinking.” She drew her legs up and rested her chin on her knees. “What do we do now?”
“I had hoped to visit with the Home Secretary tomorrow”—he chuckled—“today, actually, and to present him with documentation that you were in no way involved in your father’s crimes, and the name of the person who was.”
“Since we have nothing, will you turn me over to the Home Office, then?” She heard the terror in her voice.
Hawk pulled her against his chest. “No. Never. Do not trouble yourself with that thought. I will not allow anyone to take you from me.” He cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “Trust me, Lizzie. I promise you we will settle this matter without you having to go anywhere near the Home Office. I love you. You are mine to protect and protect you I will.”
She shook her head slightly. “I appreciate your protectiveness, truly I do. However, we must speak soon about how far your concern may go. I do not want to be left out of decisions that involve me.”
Placing his lips against her temple, he whispered, “Have I told you how much I enjoy looking at you in those breeches?”
His words were definitely a ploy to dismiss hers. However, his devious plan worked as her breath hitched, and her heart sped up at the hunger in his voice. “You might have mentioned it once or twice.” She smiled at the tightening of his hands on her arms.
“We have been here for hours with no one aware of our presence.” He nibbled at her ear lobe, bringing shivers to her entire body as his warm breath bathed her skin.
“Yes. Your observation is true.” She began to scatter kisses along his strong jawline, her favorite spot to place her lips.
“I doubt anyone has been watching the house.” His hand drifted to her breast, squeezing, rubbing his thumb over her already erect nipple.
“Also a true observation, my lord. You are very astute this morning.” She giggled as he pushed her to the floor and covered her body with his.
“Do you know what I like best about these breeches, my countess?”
She grinned up at him. “What is that, my lord?”
“I love peeling them off you.”
“Oh my.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The day after the unsuccessful Loverly townhouse search, Hawk stepped out of the carriage in front of the Home Office at 50 Queen Anne’s Gate. The summons from the Secretary had arrived at his London townhouse earlier that morning. His head butler sent the missive with one of the trusted footmen to Cam’s house. Still disappointed at not finding anything of import in Lord Loverly’s home, Hawk made his way up the stairs, into the building, and turned right toward the Home Secretary’s office.
“Lord Sidmouth requested my presence.” Hawk offered the information to the man sitting in front of the Home Secretary’s office.
“Yes, sir, Lord Hawkins. I believe his lordship was also expecting Lady Elizabeth Munro.”
“Is Sidmouth available?” There was no point in informing this man that Lady Elizabeth Munro no longer existed. He would explain it all to Sidmouth when granted an audience.
“Yes, my lord. Just let me tell him you have arrived.” The man hurried through the door and was gone a mere minute or two. “My Lord Secretary will see you now.”
Hawk entered the vast office just as Lord Sidmouth was replacing a
pen in its holder. He looked up, offered no greeting, and sat back, resting his arms on the chair armrest. “Have a seat, Hawkins.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Sidmouth leaned forward. “Where is Lady Elizabeth Munro, whom you were ordered to bring to London two weeks ago?”
“Lady Elizabeth Munro is no more.”
Sidmouth’s brows rose to his hairline. “Is the woman dead, then?”
Did Hawk detect a bit of satisfaction in the man’s demeanor? Or was he looking for things that weren’t there? ’Twas best to stay on alert, since he had no idea who the villain was in this play.
“No. She is not dead. Lady Elizabeth Munro is now The Right Honorable, the Countess of Hawkins.”
No surprise showed on the Secretary’s face. He put his fingertips together and tapped his lips. “I see.”
Hawk said nothing, allowing Sidmouth to make the first move after his statement. He who speaks first loses.
“Why is Lady Hawkins not with you then, as ordered?”
“Someone in the Home Office wants my wife dead.”
“Indeed?” It was hard not to know if the man was shocked or not. Hawk looked for clues because if he couldn’t trust the Home Secretary, he would go straight to the Prime Minister with his information. Or to Prinny, if necessary.
Hawk leaned back and rested his booted foot on his knee. “I was already visiting my cousin at his estate when the missive from your office reached me. It had been delivered to my London townhouse and forwarded to Suffolk. However, before the correspondence even reached me, there was an attempt made on my countess’s life. The only people who knew my wife’s location were in the Home Office. Unless, that is, you made the announcement throughout London.”
The Secretary shook his head. “Only a select few were made aware of Lady Eliz—Lady Hawkins’s whereabouts.”
“Who?”
“Myself, my personal assistant, Mr. Allen, one or two others who had a need to know.”
Captivating the Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love) Page 18
