Hawk stood, unable to pretend indifference any longer. Sidmouth leaned back and regarded him, his fingers now laced together on his middle. “When did you marry?”
“Three days ago, in London.”
“I see. Why has she not accompanied you here today, as ordered?”
“I repeat. Someone in this building wants to kill her. My wife will not leave the safety of where we are residing until the person who is tracking her has been identified and jailed.”
Sidmouth smirked. “From your wording, you are not residing at your own townhouse.”
Hawk did not comment. He would offer as little information that he could get away with until he learned who was threatening Lizzie.
“’Twas quite clever of the chit to marry you. It does give her a bit of leverage, does it not?”
Hawk’s jaw tightened, and he leaned over the desk, a mere few inches from the Secretary’s face. “That is my wife you are speaking of, My Lord Secretary. I don’t take slurs against her, or her motives, lightly. Be very very careful.”
Sidmouth waved his hand. “Sit down, Hawk. No one is disparaging the countess. However, if what you say is true, someone in my office is up to his neck in trouble.”
Hawk took a seat again. “Exactly. It is my theory that a member of the Home Office was the person who was working with Loverly. We always wondered how Loverly got the information he passed along. I know for a time you assumed it was a woman, but I am convinced your culprit is right here. He is afraid Lady Hawkins possesses damaging documents that were left by her father.”
“That is precisely why we wanted to speak with her. While I never did favor the rumor that she was the one working with her father, we continue to receive information that there was someone working with Loverly—not a woman as initially thought. When nothing turned up after we searched Loverly’s townhouse, the theory was his daughter had in her possession whatever documents named the mystery person.”
“My wife has nothing of importance and knows nothing damaging. She and I made a visit to Loverly’s townhouse the other evening, and we tore the place apart. We came up empty-handed.”
Sidmouth studied him for a few minutes. “I shall pretend I didn’t hear that. However, if someone in this office is guilty of treason and attempted murder, he will be exposed and brought to justice, I can assure you.” He gazed out the window at the typical gloomy London day. “I can understand your reluctance to bring your wife to us. How amenable would you be to me visiting with her, in your presence, where you are residing?”
“As you assumed, we are not staying at my house. It was too dangerous for her.” Hawk dragged his palm down his face. Did he trust the Secretary enough to allow him to come to Cam’s townhouse? Now he trusted no one.
“Suppose we meet in my townhouse? Today, mid-afternoon? You must come alone.”
Sidmouth nodded. “If that is the only way you will allow me access to the countess, then I will be by myself, at your townhouse this afternoon, at say, three o’clock?”
“We will be there.” Hawk pushed his chair back, stood, and turned. As he reached for the door latch, he looked over his shoulder at Sidmouth. “I assume I don’t have to remind you to tell no one about our meeting?”
Sidmouth dipped his head. “You have my word.”
“Very well. We will see you later.”
As Hawk made his way downstairs to the waiting carriage, he hoped he hadn’t just made a major blunder. If Sidmouth was not the honorable man he’d always thought him to be, he was putting Lizzie’s life in danger. His lips tightened. Not while he was in charge.
…
Lizzie paced the carpet in the bedchamber she and Hawk had been sharing in Cam’s townhouse, counting her steps as she walked one way, then the other. It had been more than two hours since Hawk had left for his meeting at the Home Office.
She raced to the window at the sound of carriage wheels in front of the house. Cam’s coach came to a stop, and Hawk stepped out. Lizzie hurried from the room and down the stairs to greet him.
His bright smile assured her there were no men from Scotland Yard behind him to take her to jail. She returned his smile and took his extended hand. “I ordered tea a few minutes ago. Would you care for some?” It amazed her how an Englishwoman’s first thought in any situation was tea.
“Yes. Tea sounds like a good idea. Also have Cook send in some food, as well.” After giving instructions to the butler, Hawk wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to the library.
They settled on the sofa in front of the window. “What happened?” She could no longer wait to hear about the meeting. Her heart had been lodged in her throat since he’d left. When she’d disappeared two years ago, never had she thought she’d be back in London, so close to the Home Office.
Hawk linked their fingers together. “We have a meeting this afternoon with the Home Secretary.”
She chewed her lip as she studied him. “Is that good news, or bad news?”
“Neither.” He looked up as a footman entered with tea service.
“My lord, Cook heard your carriage drive up and had already added sandwiches to the tray.”
“Thank you.”
They waited while the footman placed the tea things on a table in front of the sofa. Despite her eagerness to learn what had happened, she poured tea, arranged sandwiches, biscuits, and a lemon tart on a plate, and handed it to Hawk. She was happy with just tea since it was unlikely her knotted stomach could handle food.
“It is neither good nor bad news because the Home Secretary knows we’ve given your father’s townhouse a thorough going-over and found nothing.”
Lizzie placed her teacup on the table and sat back against the sofa. “Then why is he coming here?”
“He isn’t. I still trust no one with your safety, so I told him we would meet at three this afternoon at our townhouse. We will leave here the way we arrived, dressed as servants, and enter our townhouse through the back door. It won’t be quite as safe in the daylight, but those who would recognize us rarely pay attention to servants scurrying along the pavement.”
“Did he indicate why he wanted to meet with me?”
Hawk swallowed a gulp of tea and shook his head. “No. But I am quite sure he wants to merely ask you the very same questions I have already asked at Wycliff Manor, and then again on the road to London.”
Lizzie stood and gripped her middle. “Will this ever end?” She walked across the room and studied the gardener busy pulling dead flowers. Before she drew another breath, Hawk was behind her, the warmth from his body, and the scent of sandalwood, comforting her.
He rested his hands on her shoulders and drew her against his chest. “We need the Home Office’s help to locate the person ordering the attacks on you. Believe me when I tell you they are as anxious to expose this person as we are.”
She turned. “Then they believe I know nothing, but someone thinks I do?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “That is a small relief.”
…
At precisely three o’clock, Home Secretary Sidmouth arrived at Hawk’s townhouse. Most likely because of the uncertainty in their lives since their marriage, she still did not think of it as her home yet.
Earlier, when they had arrived from Cam’s house, the daylight pouring through the tall windows allowed her to see the space better than when they’d arrived from Hawkins Manor. She made several mental notes of what she would change if their life ever assumed some normalcy.
Arthur, Hawk’s butler, announced the arrival of Lord Sidmouth in his very well-polished voice, then stepped aside to allow the Home Secretary to enter. The thought flitted through her mind that she would also need to be introduced to the household staff sometime soon.
The Home Secretary immediately walked to Lizzie and bowed. “My lady, it is a pleasure to see you once again. I wish you happy on your recent marriage.”
Since it would be considered rude to express her true feelings about seeing him again,
Lizzie merely smiled and held out her hand for him to take. “Welcome to our home, my lord.”
There, she said it. Our home. Maybe she would start to feel as if it truly was soon.
She waved in the direction of the drawing room. “May I offer you refreshments, my lord?”
“No. I do not require any. And I think this will not take long.”
Once they were all settled, Sidmouth directed his attention to Lizzie. “My lady, I would ask a favor of you.”
She was certain surprise showed on her face, since she could not imagine what he would require of her. “If I am able, my lord.” She cast a sideways glance at Hawk, who regarded her with raised eyebrows, telling her he was unaware of what the Home Secretary was about to ask.
“His lordship brought to my attention that there has been an attempt on your life.”
“Three, actually,” Hawk said as he took Lizzie’s hand in his. “Two more after the one I told you happened at Wycliff Manor.”
Sidmouth nodded. “Your husband has presented a theory that I am unable to dismiss. He believes someone in my office was the person working with your father. The guilt and distress that conclusion causes me does not eradicate my responsibility to uncover this criminal and see justice done. I also agree with Lord Hawkins that this is the same person who has caused the attempts on your life.”
Hawk ran his thumb over her knuckles as they continued to study the Home Secretary.
The man stood and linked his fingers behind his back. “That is where the favor comes in.” He turned his attention to Lizzie. “Even though you have found nothing at your father’s townhouse that might incriminate this individual, I would like to put forth, among a few high-ranking people at the Home Office, the false rumor that you do, indeed, possess information, and you are setting up a meeting with me to hand the papers over.”
His face as white as new snow and his jaw muscles working, Hawk jumped from his seat and loomed over the Home Secretary’s startled, upturned face. “No. Absolutely not. Never. I will not allow her to do that. You must be demented.” He lunged toward the man and pointed his finger in his face. “Am I making myself clear?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hawk could not believe his ears. Sidmouth would put Lizzie in harm’s way so they could catch this culprit? He wanted to get his hands on the man behind the murder attempts himself for hurting Lizzie, but there was no question about her being involved in this fool plan.
Lizzie scrambled from her seat and took his hand, interlacing their fingers. “Hawk, please. This is the Home Secretary.”
Lizzie’s plea finally cut through the blood-red rage that had overtaken him at the Home Secretary’s suggestion. All he could see in his mind was Monica’s broken, muddy body as he laid her on her bed in front of their mother. He could not allow that to happen to the woman he loved.
She could be taken from him, leaving him with a hole in his heart, and life, so large he would never recover.
With Lizzie’s pleas in his ears, he dropped his hand and stepped back, his breath coming in gasps. He shook his head, trying to get himself under control. “I am sorry, my lord. Please forgive me.”
As Lizzie returned to her seat, he made his way across the room, his head down, fists resting on his hips, taking deep breaths. With shaky hands, he filled two glasses with brandy. He returned and handed one to the Home Secretary, who looked in dire need of the fortification.
After taking a rather large gulp, and rearranging his cravat, Sidmouth said, “Will you please allow me to lay out the entire matter?”
Hawk sipped his drink, the knots in his stomach tightening again. “The only plan I want to hear from you is the one where you capture your man without involving my countess.”
“Can we at least hear what his lordship has in mind?” Lizzie swung her head to the Home Secretary. “There is more to your proposal, is there not?”
The Home Secretary cleared his throat. “Yes, it has been well thought out, I assure you. As I said, we will put the word out about Lady Hawkins having the papers and willing to turn them over. We will set the meeting up at the Home Office, so her ladyship will be safe. When our man sees the exchange, which will be blank documents, of course, he will most likely attempt to steal them from my office. The office will be kept under surveillance and he will be caught red-handed. I will make sure men from Scotland Yard meet the countess at the Home Office when she arrives and later escort her safely home.”
Hawk took the last swallow of his drink and placed the glass on the table with a thud. “This is by far the worst plan I have ever heard. There are so many holes in this scheme of yours I could drive my phaeton through it.
“She could be abducted somewhere between here and your office. She could be shot while entering the building. Bloody hell, an urchin could be hired to snatch the false papers from her and run faster than my best mare, which in the confusion could result in my wife being run down in the street for the knowledge the culprit assumes she possesses. No. She is not doing this.”
“This is our best chance to catch the man who betrayed his country and got away with it. And the man who has threatened your wife. This is for her safety.”
“My wife and her safety is my responsibility. We will travel the continent for a while if we need to keep her safe. She will not—I repeat, not—set up a meeting and give this person who wants to kill her a clear shot.” He stood, indicating the meeting had come to an end. “If you will excuse me, my lord, I have other matters to attend to.”
Lizzie came to her feet and approached Hawk. “I want to do this.”
“No.”
She clutched his arm, staring into his eyes. “Don’t you understand? This is an opportunity to redeem my name.”
“There is nothing wrong with the name Hawkins.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, my lord.”
“And death doesn’t become you, my lady.”
“But you can come with me.” Lizzie turned to Sidmouth. “Can’t he, my lord?”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
He and Lizzie stared at each other, until Hawk turned to Sidmouth. “If you will excuse us, my lord, as I mentioned, I have matters which require my attention.” As if to make his point he grasped Lizzie by the elbow and moved her forward. “My butler will see you out,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Lizzie pulled her elbow free once they left the house. “That was exceptionally rude, Hawk. Lord Sidmouth is the Home Secretary.”
“I don’t care if he is the Prince Regent. No one—and I mean no one—should put you in that kind of danger.”
It was a quiet walk back to Cam’s townhouse. Most likely Lizzie was upset with him for being so high-handed, but he had no intention of changing his mind. He would begin immediately to arrange transport for the two of them to travel to the Continent. Italy would be nice to visit for a while.
Once they arrived at their destination, Lizzie turned to him. “I believe I will take a dinner tray in my room. I feel the beginning of a megrim.”
He bowed. “As you wish, madam. I will send one of the maids up to assist you and have Cook fix a tisane.”
Lizzie gave him a stiff nod and climbed the stairs.
He watched her, the pain in his heart so strong it almost brought him to his knees. When had she become his entire world? He broke into a sweat just thinking about her body lying cold and stiff, her laughter forever quieted, the glint in her eyes when she teased him gone, and her moans when he pleasured her silenced.
No, she might view him as overbearing, but if he lost her, he would lose himself.
A few hours later Hawk slouched in Cam’s favorite chair in the darkened library, nursing his not-sure-how-many glasses of brandy when Cam returned. He entered the library and stopped abruptly. “Bloody hell, Hawk, I didn’t see you sitting there. What’s with all the darkness?” He grabbed a taper and lit several candelabras around the room.
“My countess is mad at me.” At least that was what he had intended t
o say. It sounded a bit garbled even to his ears.
Cam poured himself a drink and sat in the chair across from Hawk, the glass dangling between his spread legs. “Why is she mad at you?”
He looked up. “I thought you were headed to Scotland?”
“First thing tomorrow, and I repeat, why is Lady Hawkins mad at you?”
Hawk burped and sat up. “Because I won’t let her kill herself.”
“Hmm. That’s quite unkind of her. Care to flesh it out a bit?”
“That bloody Home Secretary had the nerve to ask her to meet with him.”
“That doesn’t sound quite like a reason to kill herself, yet.”
Hawk waved his hand, some of the brandy sloshing out of the glass and spilling onto his pantaloons. He stared at the growing stain for a moment, then looked up. “He wants her to turn over the papers with the name of the man who was working with her father. To him.”
“I thought there were no papers, and to ‘him’ who?”
Hawk sighed as if he were speaking to a young child. “The Home Secretary.”
“I thought there were no papers with the traitor’s name on it?”
“There aren’t.”
Cam stood and walked across the room to refill his drink.
“I’ll have another one.” Hawk held out his empty glass.
“I think you should keep a clear head—though, it’s too late for that—but no more brandy until you tell me something that makes sense.”
When Hawk scowled at him, Cam added, “You are foxed. I don’t remember ever seeing you quite this bad, my friend.”
“Bah. I haven’t had that much to drink. It’s that I don’t want to mess up my clothing with blood. And that would make Lizzie even more mad at me.”
“Blood?”
“Yes, when I beat Sidmouth to a pulp for suggesting putting Lizzie in danger.”
“Let’s get back to that situation. Tell me again about this plan of the Home Secretary that involves the countess.”
Hawk looked at his empty glass. “I don’t remember finishing that.”
Cam stood and moved to the brocade bell pull. When the footman presented himself, he ordered coffee and food.
Captivating the Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love) Page 19
