“I mean that I know you’ve been fucking Townsend,” he clarified.
“That is alie—”
“Last Thursday at noon. I stopped by here and left when I realized that you had company.”
Melinda switched tactics with dizzying speed. “It didn’t mean anything, darling. I swear—”
“I know it didn’t mean anything. Not to me, at any rate. Given the situation, however, I thought it prudent to take certain precautions.”
“Are you accusing me of…of…” She sputtered like an overfilled kettle. “Of beingunclean?”
“I am merely sharing my reasoning. In truth, I had not planned on bringing up the topic. As our expectations are clearly not aligned, however, I think it best that we end our arrangement.”
Her face froze with shock. “After everything we have shared, surely you cannot wish to end our affair. I love—”
“I have enjoyed our time together, Melinda.” His tone was curt; he had no patience when it came to using love to cover up or justify bad behavior. “Let us part amicably.”
“I was warned about you.” Her voice shook with sudden anger. “My friends told me that you were an insensitive bastard. I gave you the benefit of the doubt.”
“Why would you need to?” He was truly baffled. “I was clear from the start about what I wanted. I never lied.”
And I honored our agreement.
“I thought that you would change. That it was your grief over your wife that had made you cold. I thought that I could teach you to love again…”
Hawk flinched at the tear that slid down Melinda’s cheek; he had not meant to hurt her. At the same time, the notion of trying to comfort away her tears chilled him. He was done with being a caretaker, wanted no part of it. And he did not speak about his wife—with anyone.
“I did not intend to mislead you,” he said. “I apologize if I did.”
Her nostrils flaring, Melinda hissed, “Get out, you heartless bounder! You’re as unfeeling as one of your blasted machines. I wish I’d never laid eyes on you!”
Back at his town house, Hawk was greeted by his butler.
“How was your evening, my lord?” Weatherby inquired.
“Fine, thank you.” Hawk handed over his hat and gloves. To his right, the door to the drawing room was open, revealing the gaping holes in the ceiling and walls. “Why the devil does that look worse than when the renovation started?”
Weatherby gave a long-suffering sigh. “According to the carpenter, the rot from the leak was more extensive than he first believed. He says he will have to rebuild most of the walls and the ceiling. At your convenience, I could schedule a meeting with him—”
“That will be unnecessary.” Hawk’s temples began to throb; household problems were the bane of his existence. He had neither the patience nor aptitude for dealing with them. “Just talk to him, Weatherby, and make sure he gets the job done.”
“Yes, my lord.”
As Hawk climbed the steps, he wondered why he could not find a mistress as accommodating as his butler. Weatherby was the soul of discretion and held up his end of the bargain. Of course, Hawk compensated well for the butler’s professionalism; the idea of hiring a bedpartner, however, had never appealed to him.
Livingston, his valet, was waiting in his bedchamber. As predicted, the silver-haired fellow grimaced at the state of Hawk’s clothing but kept his sartorial opinions to himself as he helped Hawk change.
“Did you enjoy the ball this evening, my lord?” Livingston inquired.
“It fulfilled its purpose.” Hawk shrugged into his dressing gown. “Namely that of placating my mama.”
As much as he loved his mother, her constant fretting over his happiness drove him slightly mad. Tonight, he’d suffered through dances with several debutantes to appease her. He’d hoped to earn a respite from her visits, during which she dropped hints about the state of his town house and how it needed a “woman’s touch.” While he knew Mama’s intentions were good, he was private by nature. He would rather be put on the rack than discuss his personal affairs. He had the inkling that his papa, whom his mother dragged along to the inquisitions, shared his sentiments.
“It is a mother’s job to worry, sir,” Livingston said. “Mine still reminds me to eat my peas, even though I have loathed the legume for over half a century.”
After Livingston left, Hawk was plagued by restlessness and decided to work in his study. As he left his room, he paused at the next door.
Caroline’s bedchamber. He hadn’t gone inside for months.
