Skylar leaped to her feet and began pacing the floor.
An annulment. She had to get an annulment. If she really was wed to this hateful creature.
She would just go back. Go back east.
Was she insane? She couldn’t go back!
That thought racked her over and over again. No, she couldn’t go back. And she hadn’t married for gain, but she did need money. Desperately.
The fire was dying in the hearth. The cabin was darkening. It was probably very late. She was alone in the wilderness with nothing but a wretched, bloodthirsty dog nearby. She hoped. There could be worse creatures of the night beyond the door…
She couldn’t be afraid, she told herself. Thankfully, she was too exhausted to feel much of anything.
She sat on the bed, then stretched out upon it. The thought remained with her, growing duller and duller. She couldn’t go back.
So what did she do now?
She laid her head on the pillow.
What if he didn’t come back? Who would die first, her or the wolf-dog?
She felt like laughing again. She was so tired. She closed her eyes and felt herself dozing. It felt good. So good. Her body eased down more comfortably into the mattress. And her sleep deepened.
Gold Town,a small mining settlement that had grown up quickly in the last few years since gold had been discovered in the Black Hills, was rustic—and prosperous. Henry Pierpont did a decent enough business to keep a large office on Main Street, fully furnished from the East with handsome leather chairs and sofas and cherrywood bookcases. He had a secretary, Jim Higgins, a young man who’d originally come for the gold, then turned in his miner’s equipment for pen and ink. The momentHawk burst into the law office, Jim was on his feet. “Hawk. Er, Lord Douglas. Henry’s been expecting you, Lord Douglas.”
Hawk nodded, heading toward the inner office. He paused. “Jim.”
“Yes, sir, Lord Douglas.”
“My father was born in England. Lord Douglas suited him, don’t you think? Hawk suits me.”
Jim flashed him a weak smile. “Yeah, thanks. It’s much more comfortable.”
Hawk nodded again, then went on into Henry’s office. Painfully thin with wire-rimmed spectacles and a prematurely balding head, Henry Pierpont leaped to his feet. He knocked over the coffee cup in front of him and started mopping up the coffee with his handkerchief. “Hawk. Your father’s body is due at Riley’s by tonight. It’s come as far as it could by train, but the railroad had a little bit of a problem getting a proper conveyance to bring it on up. We’re still really in the wilds out here, you know. But there’s a matter that’s come to my attention by the most recent post—” He broke off, shaking his head, miserable and very nervous.
Hawk threw the wedding license on Henry’s desk and sat in the chair in front of it.
“Could this matter have something to do with a woman claiming to be Lady Douglas?” he demanded.
Henry went dead still, then nodded. He sank back into his own chair. “You must understand, your father was my client.”
Hawk arched a brow.
Henry held a pencil. It cracked between his fingers. “I warned him that he shouldn’t be carrying around proxy papers, that it just wasn’t right.”
“You drew up proxy papers?”
“Yes, I drew them up.”
“Henry, damn you?—”
“Hawk, I drew them up, but, well, you did sign them.”
“Because I’ve never been interested in taking control of my father’s estates! He managed his own properties! He was sound of mind. He was in good health?—”
“He was aging,” Henry interrupted quietly. “I wanted to contact you and let you know that he was quite determined that you should marry, but again, your father was my client, until his death. Of course, now you’re Lord Douglas, my client.”
Hawk felt completely at a loss. He lifted his hands. “Did my father know this woman before he left here?”
