He looked disoriented and disheveled. Like a man who’d been drugged.
What’smyexcuse?
Fi wetted her lips and tried to calm her unfulfilled shivers. She saw the waiting hackney. Wordlessly, Fi crossed to Hawksmoor, who stared at her with glazed eyes.
“Time to get you home,” she said.
She ducked under his arm, helping him into the hackney, where he sprawled onto the bench. She barely got his address from him before his eyelids slid shut. Furtively, she searched his pockets; in an inner compartment of his coat, she found what she was looking for.
She pulled out the earring. Pocketed it.
In Hawksmoor’s current state, the austere lines of his face were softened, giving him an almost boyish quality. She brushed a stray lock from his brow before closing the door. She gave the driver extra coin to get him home safely.
As the hackney bumped off, Livy cleared her throat. “What was it that you once called Hawksmoor? A ‘pompous old scholar’?”
Cheeks flaming, Fi muttered, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Eight
Fi floated into wakefulness as if surfacing through warmed honey. She opened her eyes and blinked dazedly at the ruffled ivory canopy of her bed. She wasn’t used to sleeping so deeply. Her busy mind usually woke her up early with to-do lists: required steps to keep her status as an Incomparable, essential subterfuges to maintain so that she could continue being an investigator. She often jolted awake, already in a panic that she’d forgotten to do something.
This morning, however, her mind felt pleasantly groggy. As if she had nothing to do, nowhere to be but where she was, in her cozy featherbed. She snuggled deeper under her coverlet, savoring the feeling of languor. She’d had the most marvelous dream. She tried to recall the details, what had made her feel so warm and tingly…
Her eyes flew open as the events of last evening came rushing back.
Heavens, Hawksmoor kissed me…and it wassplendid.
Memories of their torrid embrace awakened her fully. His masculine intensity had overwhelmed her senses. Beneath his buttoned-up exterior lay a man of deep passions…and one who was not afraid of a woman whose desires matched his. Recalling how he’d told her to ride him and how wantonly she’d obeyed, she felt a flutter in her private cove.
The earl was a surprise…in every way.
Sitting up, she opened the drawer of her bedside table and removed the pair of earrings she’d placed there last night. She held one in each hand: the golden semi-circles were a perfect match. Either it was an unbelievable coincidence or…
The Earl of Hawksmoor is my dashing French thief.
Her heart hiccupped. The way she’d responded to Hawksmoor confirmed her intuition; only he and the thief had inspired such wanton feelings in her. Furthermore, the two were of a similar height, build, and the eyes behind the mask which had intrigued her for weeks now appeared a stormy grey in her mind. Both men could also hold their own in combat. Considering the evidence, she was left with a question: what on earth had the reputedly staid and proper earl been doing disguised as a Frenchman in von Essen’s study?
She didn’t think Hawksmoor was a professional burglar. From all accounts, he was as rich as Croesus; why would he risk his honor for money he did not need? A likelier explanation was that the dodgy count had had in his possession something of Hawksmoor’s…something that Hawksmoor had wanted back. Or the earl, like Fi herself, could have been helping someone else. Perhaps von Essen was blackmailing a friend of his.
The possibilities were as numerous as they were fascinating. Yet one thing was for certain: Hawksmoor was no stodgy scholar. Like her, he had secrets.
Perhaps they were more alike than she realized. Recalling the longing in his eyes when he’d asked her if she liked him, she felt an odd spasm.
“I like you, too,”he’d said.
While she’d been showered with compliments since her debut, she could not recall a single man who’d told her that helikedher. And not for the superficial trappings of her looks and wealth. He had singled out her boldness and bloody-minded nature, traits she didn’t think any man would admire. The same qualities, in fact, that had earned her father’s disapproval.
Hawksmoor’s rationale for resisting his attraction to her was an enticing mystery. As was his presence at both von Essen’s and an establishment like the Royal Arms. Frowning, Fi wondered about his purpose last eve. He didn’t seem like a louche aristocrat out to relieve his ennui.
She knew that helping him had come with risks; Charlie would likely chastise her for compromising the mission. Thankfully, the earl was unlikely to remember much of what happened. In his drugged state, he hadn’t even registered that Fi had been dressed like a trollop.
She told herself it was for the best that Hawksmoor was unlikely to remember much of last night, including their kiss. Drugged, his inhibitions had been loosened; sober, he was bound to feel differently about her. In fact, he would probably revert to his old proper and disapproving self.
The thought was rather deflating.
Stop being a ninny,she lectured herself.Between pulling the wool over Mama and Papa’s eyes, conducting investigations, and dazzling Society, you have enough on your plate.You don’t have time to worry about whether an enigmatic earl likes you.
The reminder of all that had to be done got her out of bed. She went to the washstand to splash water on her face…and gasped in horror at her reflection. A bruise had unfurled like an exotic purple bloom on her right cheek. The swelling had spread beneath her eye, giving her a shocking shiner.
