That was the trouble with clever women. They always found the bruise.
“I never professed to be a decent man.”
“That’s just as well. There’s nothing worse than lying to oneself.” She drew a deep breath. “Tell me what he did, and I shall tell you what he said after you left the ballroom.”
He firmed his jaw, ready to say cruelty wasn’t a game. But thatwouldmake him a hypocrite. And he was beyond desperate for answers.
“Do you have anything stronger to drink than tea?”
“No, but I can wait while you fetch a decanter from the house. Though I sense you’ll never tell me if I let you leave.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Already, every muscle had tightened.
His tongue felt thick in his throat.
“I don’t suppose there’s anything else we might barter. A bottle ofRosée du Matinfrom Floris?” Though nothing smelled better on her than that mysterious scent she wore. “A sapphire brooch from Woodcroft’s?”
She fell silent, blinking as though a lash had caught in her eye. “I’d prefer a daisy picked from the place where we might share our first picnic. Or a waltz in a cottage while you hum atune. Other than that, there’s only one thing I want, Mr Hawke.”
He braced himself.
Whatever it was, it would cost him dearly.
“I’ll tell you everything I know. I’ll risk my life to uncover the truth. In exchange, you’ll agree to accept me as your partner.”
“Partner?” Though he was unsure what she meant, the blood pooling low in his loins made its own assumptions. “You want me to bed you?”
It would be no hardship.
Perhaps then he could be free of her.
She glanced at his spread thighs. “A tempting offer, but no.”
“Then what?” He narrowed his gaze, fighting disappointment. “Surely you’re not referring to Shadowmere. You want to help organise parties for the depraved?”
She laughed. “Heavens, no. Besides, we’d argue at every turn. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m something of a romantic.”
Guilt settled in his chest like a weight. There was a reason she’d ruined her own season. Miss Harland wanted to marry for love. And now, it would take a man who loved her to the ends of the earth to ignore her dire situation. For that, he was sorry.
“Just tell me what you want, Miss Harland.”
At this point, he might agree to anything.
“I want us to work together. To discover who killed my father. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m not entirely certain he’s the villain you were after.”
CHAPTER SIX
Although Mr Hawke had reluctantly agreed to her proposal, Daphne refused to answer him until they were seated in his carriage, rattling along the road to London.
Perhaps he thought the new bed and armoire his men had assembled in her chamber would serve as a fitting bribe. Or that having the gardener clear the pebbles and weeds might win her favour.
But a week had passed since she’d made her pact with Lady Soanes, and playing enquiry agent meant the rest would pass just as quickly.
He sat across from her on the black leather seat, filling the space with his indomitable presence, his eyes locked on her. His prey.
While he appeared immaculate in a charcoal grey frock coat and matching trousers that hugged his solid thighs, she wore the only clean dress she owned. Her dark blue pelisse was fastened to the throat, but her clothing did not escape his scrutiny.
