“She is, er, freshening up.”
At Jeremiah’s satisfied smile, Hawk felt a tug in his chest. It wasn’t envy, for he didn’t begrudge his brother’s happiness. What he felt was curiosity: what was it like to have a passionate marriage? To have a partner whose desires matched one’s own?
Mama waved at someone behind Hawk. “Mr. and Mrs. Garrity! How lovely to see you.”
Greetings were exchanged with the newcomers. With prickling embarrassment, Hawk wondered if Miss Garrity had mentioned the Brambleton ball incident to her parents. Seeing no sign of animosity from the Garritys, he concluded that she had not. In addition to her looks, he now had her discretion to admire.
“Thank you for inviting us, Lord and Lady Harteford.” Gabriella Garrity’s blue eyes exuded sincerity. “We are enjoying ourselves ever so much.”
To Hawk, she seemed like a softer version of her daughter. She was shorter, curvier, with pleasantly rounded features. She was a warm hearth to her daughter’s blazing fire.
“I am pleased to hear it.” Mama beamed. “As usual, your lovely Fiona is making quite the splash. She has been surrounded by a legion of admirers, and I have not seen her sit out a single dance.”
“Fiona is not one to sit still, my lady.” Garrity’s dark gaze glittered with amusement and unmistakable pride.
While Miss Garrity had inherited her coloring from her mama, Hawk gathered her confidence and spirit had a strong paternal influence. With inky hair touched by silver at the temples and hawkish features, Adam Garrity had the aura of a man used to being in command.
“I wish Hawksmoor, here, would take a page out of her book,” Mama said brightly. “I was just encouraging him to ask a lady to dance.”
Gazes turned upon Hawk.
“Do you enjoy dancing, my lord?” Mrs. Garrity asked.
About as much as he enjoyed being the center of attention.
“Not really, ma’am,” he said politely.
“My brother just hasn’t found the right partner, but his luck may be about to change.” With a devilish grin, Jeremiah directed his gaze to a spot behind Hawk’s shoulder. “Good evening, Miss Garrity. You are in exceptional looks tonight.”
Pivoting, Hawk found himself face to face with Fiona Garrity. Although it defied logic, she affected him like the sun affected the earth. She exerted an invisible force upon him; her mere proximity pumped his heart and pulled blood into his loins. As if he were a damned greenling instead of a widower of one-and-thirty.
It took all his willpower not to get hard. To maintain a façade of indifference.
Not that she would notice. She did not spare him a glance.
Bestowing a dazzling smile upon his brother, she said, “How kind of you to say, my lord.”
Her curtsy was a work of art, the dimple in her right cheek a bloody masterpiece.
Even Jeremiah looked a bit dazzled.
“I am merely trying to do justice to this splendid occasion.” Miss Garrity’s coral-pink lips formed a demure curve. “As usual, Lord and Lady Harteford, your party is an absolute crush.”
She waved her fan gracefully, wafting her scent in Hawk’s direction.
She smelled like peaches. He wanted to eat her.
“I am glad you are enjoying yourself,” Mama said warmly.
Miss Garrity’s eyes sparkled. “I do adore dancing.”
“How fortunate,” Jeremiah said. “Because my brother here is in search of a partner.”
Hawk tensed.
After a pause, Miss Garrity arched her brows. “Is he indeed?”
“What a brilliant idea,” Mama enthused. “Hawksmoor, you must ask Miss Garrity to dance.”
