“Thomas, my dear. You are not leaving, are you?”
Caught in the act of doing precisely that, Hawk stifled an oath. He turned around to face his mother. Seeing the resolute glint in her hazel eyes, he knew the jig was up.
“Thank you for the hospitality, Mama,” he began. “It is getting late—”
“Nonsense. It is not yet ten o’clock.” She took him by the arm, leading him back into the ballroom that he had almost escaped. “The night is young, dear boy. You must enjoy yourself.”
He had been planning on doing that. By leaving the bloody party. His vision of enjoying a glass of whisky by the fire while perusing a scientific periodical vanished as his mama drew him back into the throng. Even in the glittering crowd, one couple stood out from the rest.
Fiona Garrity was dancing with Lord Sheffield, the youthful pair so dazzling that others made way for them. While Sheffield was light-footed, it was undoubtedly his partner who elevated him. Miss Garrity’s beauty lit up everything around her. Her red curls gleaming, she moved with effortless grace while chatting with her partner. Her yellow satin gown was embroidered with rosebuds and showed off her lissome figure. The bodice bared the smooth slope of her shoulders, molding to her full breasts and narrow waist. As she spun, Hawk caught flashes of her trim ankles beneath her fluffy skirts.
She was Sól come to life. Her vibrant femininity blended sensuality and innocence, and men responded like wolves. When the dance ended, they surrounded her, rabid for her attention. Watching her bestow a smile as polished as a golden apple upon each of her admirers, Hawk felt a primal burst of heat in his loins. He had the irrational urge to beat back her suitors and claim her radiance for himself.
Deliberately, he turned his back to the dance floor and away from temptation. For him, logic trumped lust. He and Miss Garrity could not be more ill-suited. More to the point, after their last encounter, she likely wanted nothing to do with him, and he didn’t blame her. He had no desire to irritate her or embarrass himself further.
“Do you see anyone you would like to ask to dance, Thomas?” his mother asked.
“No,” he said.
“Surely there must be someone.” Mama’s encouraging smile reminded him of the one she’d worn the day she and Papa had dropped him and his twin brother Jeremiah off at Eton.
“Try to make friends, my dear,”she’d told him.“Do not get too lost in your studies.”
“There is not.” Hawk searched for a diversion. “Have you seen Jeremiah?”
“He’s probably dancing with Effie.” A content smile tucked into Mama’s rounded cheeks. “You know how the two of them are.”
Hawk did know, at least intellectually. Wed for seven years, Jeremiah and his wife, Euphemia, still acted like newlyweds. His brother took after their parents in that way. Hawk, himself, had never experienced that sort of giddy emotion. His and Caroline’s love had been more reserved in nature. He had been awkward and shy, she quiet and bookish. In each other, they’d found an intellectual match which had led him to propose to her at the age of one-and-twenty.
Neither of them had been prepared for her illness, how swiftly it had transformed her quietness into despair and her reserve into an inability to be around others. They’d consulted numerous physicians whose “cures” had ranged from ineffective to harmful. The most common prescriptions—bed rest and laudanum—had done little for Caroline’s melancholia. Weeping and ashamed, she had begged him to keep her affliction a secret. Not knowing what else to do, he’d agreed.
He’d taken her to the country seat and given her the solitude she needed. He’d never spoken of her moods to anyone. He’d done this out of love, and it was only after her death that he realized the cost. To protect Caroline, he’d cut himself off from those who loved him. His years of absence had strained the bonds with his family.
He’d done a shoddy job of keeping up with Jeremiah, Effie, and his two young nieces. He hadn’t been there as his younger brothers, George and Henry, had grown into manhood. He’d missed birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays. The worst of it was that his family did not hold any of it against him, welcoming him back with open arms.
Hawk, however, held himself responsible. Yet he didn’t know how to bridge the chasm he’d caused. How to make up for everything he’d missed.
Papa arrived, bending to kiss Mama’s cheek. “There you are, Helena, my love.”
“Have you seen Jeremiah and Effie, darling?” Mama asked.
“I saw them escape onto a balcony not too long ago.”
“How romantic.” Mama sighed. “Remember when we used to sneak away from balls?”
Papa’s grey eyes flashed with amusement. “You mean last week?”
Blushing, Mama said, “Well, at least that is one son accounted for.” She slid an unsubtle look in Hawk’s direction. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into another.”
“What has Hawk done now?” Jeremiah drawled.
Hawk’s fraternal twin sauntered over. While their height and looks identified them as brothers, their personalities were as different as night and day. Mama liked to jokingly claim that she had planned their birth order. According to her, she’d known that Hawk’s analytical nature would make him the ideal heir to manage the lands and holdings of the marquessate whereas Jeremiah’s outgoing charm would make him the perfect successor to Fines, Morgan & Co., the family shipping business.
“Hawk refuses to dance,” Mama said. “Even though many ladies present would give their eyeteeth to take a turn with him.”
“You might as well give up on your plot, Mama,” Jeremiah advised. “By now, you must know that one cannot make Hawk do something he does not wish to do.”
“Very well.” Expelling an exasperated breath, Mama asked, “Where is Effie?”
