Tossing back her hair, she tapped one of her golden earrings.
Hawk’s mouth curved in that slow smile she adored.
“The earring, which you promptly stole back.” He raised his brows. “At the Royal Arms?”
She nodded.
“I wondered where it had gone,” he said wryly. “On the boat ride over tonight, Lady Fayne told me you were the light-skirt in von Essen’s study. But I should have figured it out on my own. After all, you and the trollop are the only two women who have affected my senses in this way.”
Fi gave him a saucy look. “And what way is that,monsieur?”
“Tell me this first,madame. Are you good at keeping secrets?” he asked tenderly.
“Keeping secrets is my job.”
He swept her into his arms, pressing her down to the bottom of the boat and out of sight of their friends cheering on the shore. She gazed up into her husband’s eyes, which blazed with love brighter than the stars overhead.
“Then allow me to demonstrate your effect on me, my love,” he murmured.
To her everlasting delight, he did.
Forty-One
Three weeks later
Fiona took a short respite with her mama in a secluded alcove. Surveying the packed ballroom, she saw with satisfaction that her first ball as a hostess was a success. Guestsoohed andaahed over the refreshment tables, and footmen were in constant motion, refilling the champagne fountains. She spotted her friends twirling with their husbands to the strains of the Viennese orchestra she’d hired for the occasion. She also saw her brother Max by a row of potted palms. He was being nudged by Henry, Hawk’s youngest brother, toward a shy debutante.
“Your ball is a triumph, Fiona.” Mama beamed with pride.
“Because of you,” Fi said fondly. “You taught me everything I know about being a hostess.”
“No, my dear.” Mama’s tone was gentle yet firm. “You must take credit where it is due. You’ve refurbished your home beautifully, and you made the arrangements that the guests are raving about.”
At Hawk’s urging, Fi had confided in her mother about her insecurities. To her surprise, Mama had understood completely, sharing that she, too, had struggled with self-doubts. Fi had been shocked that a lady as sweet and good as her mother could have ever questioned her worth. The heart-to-heart chat had cleared up other things as well, and Fi felt closer than ever to her mother.
Papa joined them, placing an arm around Mama’s waist.
“What are the guests raving about, my dear?” he inquired.
Mama smiled up at him. “Our daughter’s skills as a hostess, of course.”
“You have outdone yourself, Fiona,” Papa said. “This affair is a crush.”
“Oh, there is Max,” Mama blurted. “I need to, um, remind him about something. Please excuse me.”
Mama rushed off, leaving Fi alone with her father.
“Your mama has many virtues.” Papa’s mouth curved. “Subtlety, however, is not one of them.”
Fi chuckled. “Artlessness is part of Mama’s charm.”
“It is. Just as self-possession is one of yours.” Papa slid her a look. “Mama told me about the talk you had.”
This came as no surprise. Her parents shared everything.
Papa drew his brows together. “If I have given you cause to doubt my regard for you—”
“You haven’t, Papa,” Fi said earnestly.
