She nodded.
“I had nothing better to do.”
She blinked at him. “Boredom motivated you to invent and patent new technology?”
He shrugged. “I don’t like to be bored.”
Come to think of it, neither do I.
Perhaps that explained her wicked craving for excitement. Why she couldn’t be more conventional. Why she had to pretend to be a lady.
“I like to keep busy as well,” she said.
“I can tell.” His lips twitched. “Were you always this way?”
“I was a handful as a child.” Squelching a pang, she asked, “What were you like?”
“Serious and intellectual.” He tossed back the rest of his whisky. “Shall we sit by the fire?”
She followed him to the cozy seating area by the hearth. He went to get himself another drink, and she took the opportunity to make herself as alluring as possible. Arranging herself on the studded leather sofa, she unpinned the corsage that had shielded her cleavage, shoving it between the cushions. Unbuckling her shoes, she curled her legs beneath her, making sure that her stockinged feet and ankles peeped artfully from beneath her skirts.
When Hawk returned, she gave him a coquettish smile and patted the seat next to her.
“Tell me more about your childhood,” she said.
He sat beside her, slanting a glance at her silk-covered feet.
“What do you wish to know?” he asked.
She wound one of her curls around her finger, hiding a smile at the interested gleam in his eyes. She enjoyed flirtation in general and with Hawksmoor in particular. There was something infinitely delicious about tempting her older, brilliant, and self-disciplined husband. Perhaps it was the rebel in her that enjoyed getting through his wall of control.
His gaze strayed from her twirling finger to the dip in her neckline. Her respiration quickened, her nipples tingling against her corset. She had to gather herself before speaking.
“What was it like growing up in your family?”
“Noisy and full of mayhem.” He quirked an eyebrow. “You have met my brothers.”
She nodded with amusement. His younger siblings were rowdy rogues. At the wedding reception, George and Henry had flirted shamelessly with her in an obvious attempt to get under Hawk’s skin.
“You are different from them,” she observed.
“I take after my father.” Hawk’s mouth formed a faint curve. “My brothers take after Mama.”
“But the marchioness is a most refined lady,” she said in surprise.
“Don’t let Mama’s perfect manners fool you. She is a tigress when it comes to the family.” He paused. “One time, when I was at Eton, she came to see the headmaster. A fearsome fellow by the name of Mr. Stratton who struck terror in the hearts of all his pupils. He emerged from Mama’s visit as a shell of his former formidable self; he was never the same again.”
Fi canted her head. “What prompted her visit?”
“As I mentioned, I was a serious and intellectual lad. This did not endear me to my peers.” Hawk drank more whisky. “One of the popular boys targeted me for bullying. He and his cronies would wait until I was alone, then pounce. When I showed up at Michaelmas break with a pair of shiners, Mama demanded to know what had happened.”
“And well she should have,” Fi said indignantly. “I hope those bullies got what they deserved.”
“I refused to tell her their names. And I swore Jeremiah to secrecy. That was why Mama was so furious at Stratton, you see; he couldn’t punish the bullies because he did not know who they were.”
She gaped at him. “Why would you protect those dreadful boys?”
“Because the only way to deal with a bully is by facing them yourself,” Hawk said bluntly. “Knowing Mama, she would have had the boys expelled, and trust me, that would not have helped my standing with my peers. Papa understood. That was when he took me into the sparring ring and taught me how to solve my own problems.”
