“Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, of course, you would know.” She laughed softly. “I should have assumed that. Paxton enjoys being with people. The solitude here doesn’t agree with him as easily as it does me.”
Hawk took a sip of the wine and watched her laugh at herself before returning to her food. He liked that her mistake hadn’t flustered her. He liked seeing merriment sparkle in her eyes and light up her face.
“Does it agree with you or do you simply manage it better than your brother?”
“Either way, Your Grace,” she said without looking up from her food. “This is where I live. I still have friends in London and we correspond regularly so I’m not completely cut off from the outside world.”
There was such finality in her voice it gave him pause. He watched her cut a small piece of ham. She wasn’t askingfor sympathy or even understanding. Just stating the facts of her life.
“How frequently does the earl come for a visit?”
She swallowed. “Seldom.”
“You are a master at giving short answers, Miss Quick.”
“It is all your questions require.”
He grinned at her cheeky answer, and so did she before continuing, “But I must admit that you have asked a lot of questions tonight.”
“It’s the best way to learn what you want to know.”
“You must have an inquisitive mind.” She put a piece of potato in her quite attractive mouth. Hawk wanted to reach over and kiss those pretty closed lips of hers, but knew the recklessness of that line of thinking and dug into the mound of eggs on his plate instead.
After eating a few more bites, he said, “I do. How often is seldom?”
“That my uncle visits?”
He nodded.
“Twice a year. Usually spring and fall. I assume he considers it his duty as my guardian to check on me from time to time. Maybe he simply wants to make sure I’m still here, or it could be that traveling is harder on him than it used to be. He doesn’t get around as well as he did in his younger years. Stairs are particularly challenging for him. Even getting in and out of a carriage.” She glanced at Hawk and added, “Is that answer long enough for you?”
There was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, and Hawk chuckled. “Much better.”
“Good.”
“Why do you live here, Miss Quick?”
“It is my uncle’s wish,” she answered before laying her knife and fork aside and picking up her glass.
He smiled at her guileless answer. “Punishment?” he asked.
She lifted her gaze to his as she sipped the wine. He could see that she was contemplating her answer. Did she want to tell him the truth, a lie, or simply to mind his own business? He waited and gave her the time she needed to decide.
At last she said, “Perhaps some would think that.”
“But you don’t?”
“I have no use for self-pity, Your Grace. It festers and destroys. That said, I am resigned to the fact that I have no one to blame or to thank for the life I live other than myself.”
Her face was somber, her words so honest, so quietly spoken that his heart lurched from the impact of their meaning. “Does your brother believe that?”
“I suppose you will have to ask Paxton when you tell him that you want him to marry your sister so she won’t have to go out into Society and look for a husband herself among the rakes, scoundrels, and rapscallions. You know—” She gave him a rueful smile. “The kind of men who send gentle-bred young ladies anonymous letters and ask them to meet a secret admirer—that doesn’t exist.”
She was devilishly brave.
“I can’t deny I once did that,” he admitted. “Nor do I deny that I want to help my sister avoid men who can be as foolish as I was a few years ago.”
“Was?” She lifted an arched brow as if in protest of his comment. “So you have mended your wicked ways?”
