“Then perhaps I might interest you in a tour of my mama’s prized roses.” She turned to her parents, the very picture of decorum. “May I have permission to show Lord Hawksmoor the garden?”
Nine
As Fiona led Hawksmoor into the garden, she was aware of two things. First, her parents were keeping close watch from the window of Papa’s study, and they would not allow her to be alone with the earl for long. Second, this was her opportunity to take destiny into her own hands. Before she committed to her plan, however, she needed to ascertain how much Hawksmoor remembered of last night. His presence conveyed that he recalled something; the nature and extent of his memories would dictate her next moves.
As Fi led Hawksmoor down the pebbled path lined by manicured hedges, she was acutely aware of his robust virility. Unlike her, he looked none the worse for the wear. His navy frock coat was superbly fitted to his wide shoulders, his buff-colored trousers tailored to his long, muscular limbs. Black leather gloves hid his battle-worn knuckles. In the sunlight, his hair gleamed like a rich pelt.
It was his expression, however, that stirred a deep, feminine awareness. He looked as stern and austere as a schoolmaster, yet she knew what lay beneath his buttoned-up exterior. She’d felt the rough-silk slide of his hair between her fingers, the hot plunge of his tongue inside her mouth…
Don’t get distracted by desire. Stay focused on your goal of determining whether Hawksmoor is the answer to your problems.
She took the bull by the horns. “Why did you come today, my lord?”
“I am not entirely certain.” His gaze held a hint of storms roiling behind the placid surface. “May I be frank, Miss Garrity?”
“I would prefer it, my lord.”
“Last night…you were there, weren’t you?”
She was not about to incriminate herself any more than necessary.
“Where, exactly?” she asked politely.
“Devil take it, you know where.” Frustration etched lines on his forehead. “At the Royal Arms. You witnessed my altercation with a gang of ruffians. As I had, ahem, overindulged, my memory is regrettably lacking in detail. But I would wager my estates on the fact that you were there. That you somehow came to my aid.”
From their prior interactions, she knew him to be a proud, self-contained fellow. One in complete command of himself. The fact that he couldn’t recall most of last night must be driving him mad. What he did remember made it necessary for her to provide a creditable reason for her presence.
“I was there,” she admitted.
“Iknewit.” Relief blazed in his eyes. “But what were you doing there?”
“I might ask you the same thing,” she said sweetly.
He looked discomfited.Interesting.
“I was in search of a diversion.” After a pause, he raised his brows. “And you?”
Charlie had taught the Angels that the best excuse was often the simplest and closest to the truth. Fiona had discovered this for herself ages ago. She’d been a Willflower before she was an Angel; a girl with a taste for adventure had to master the art of providing plausible explanations for her behavior.
“I believe you are acquainted with the Hadleighs?” At his nod, she went on glibly, “The duchess is my dear friend, and we were on our way to the theatre. Our carriage happened to stop by the alleyway. I saw you being attacked and went to help.”
He shot her an incredulous look. “You left the safety of your carriage, in Covent Garden at night, and dashed into an alleyway to help me?”
“And how fortunate for you that I did.” She gave him an innocent smile. “And I was not alone; Lady Olivia was there with me. The brutes scattered when we raised the alarm.”
His gaze locked on her bruised cheek. “How did that happen?”
Flushing at his intense scrutiny, she said, “As one of the blackguards was fleeing, he knocked me into a wall. I know I must look a fright, but it’s just temporary.”
“Nothing could detract from your beauty.”
His stark words caused a flutter in her chest.
“Yet you took a great risk coming to my aid. I do not know whether I ought to thank you or lecture you.”
She beamed at him. “Your thanks will do. And you’re welcome.”
Hawksmoor’s bluntness and grumpy attitude combined for a rather charming effect.
