She quirked her head. “What do you mean? He was lost, ill, and uncared for. What could there be other than benevolence from me?”
His eyes searched hers, as they often did. “Kinship. Maybe you feel that because you have both been left alone, you have something in common.”
No, she would not let the duke wake all those feelings of being abandoned. She’d had a short cry with Farley earlier and that was all the sympathy she’d allow herself. She’d worked too hard to overcome her pain, rejection, and loneliness. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t accomplished overnight, but she had buried them and moved on.
“How can you say that when I have Paxton? And it looks as if he didn’t have refreshments brought in for you after your long journey. May I offer you a drink? Tea or brandy before you go?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me again, Miss Quick?”
“If you’ll remember our conversation when you were last here, I thought it best that you not return at all.”
“Ah, yes. How could I forget? But you’re not going toget rid of me that easily.” His gaze swept down her face and then lingered on her eyes. “Perhaps I didn’t make that clear earlier when I kissed you. I’m thinking I should do it again.”
Hearing her brother approaching, Loretta whirled away from the duke.
“Here we are, Your Grace,” Paxton said, entering the room. “The packaging itself on this one looks good enough to eat. Another beautiful yellow ribbon tied around it.” He extended it toward the duke and then pulled it back and said, “Or should I just hand it to Loretta for you? I mean, you did say it was for her—but no, you really should. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Yes, Mr. Quick,” the duke answered calmly. “It’s fine for you to just give the box to her. And I think you’ll be happy to know I’ve talked her into accompanying you to Hawksthorn. Hopefully next week.”
Paxton’s gaze immediately cut to his sister. “That’s wonderful, Your Grace, but I don’t know if she will be able to make it.”
“I realize I must get your uncle’s permission, but I don’t foresee a problem with that. The earl and I have met on several occasions. I’ll be back in touch with you after I’ve spoken to him. I trust you’ll keep all this to yourself.”
“You can be sure of that,” Paxton answered.
“And I can count on you to see that Miss Quick is packed and on the carriage with you before it leaves, yes?”
Paxton put his arm around Loretta’s shoulder and hugged her close to his side. “Absolutely, Your Grace. I’ll see to it that she’s with me.”
Chapter 12
There may be times when a man is desperate to gain a lady’s attention, but a gentleman would never resort to desperate measures to obtain it.
APROPERGENTLEMAN’SGUIDETOWOOINGTHEPERFECTLADY
SIRVINCENTTYBALTVALENTINE
Hawk paced in front of the fireplace, before the window, and alongside the settee. And then paced some more.
Being the son of a duke had afforded him many advantages when he was growing up, and now that he was the duke, even more. He wasn’t used to waiting for people. They waited for him.
Yet in all fairness, Hawk had tried to temper his impatience as best he could. Whether or not he saw Miss Quick again anytime soon depended on this meeting, and the longer he went without seeing her, the more he wanted to see her again. Her kisses had left him with a hunger that he hadn’t been able to satisfy—and he’d tried.
He’d arrived at the Earl of Switchingham’s home unannounced and early enough in the afternoon that no oneelse would dare consider paying a call to an earl. But even if the earl had to change his neckcloth, vest, and all the rest of his clothing thrice before greeting Hawk, it shouldn’t have taken over an hour for the earl’s valet to put him together. Still, Hawk didn’t know the man well. Perhaps he’d studied how to tie a neckcloth under the tutelage of Beau Brummell, who reportedly took hours to dress each day, sometimes tying as many as thirty neckcloths before he concluded he was fit to be seen.
Along with the pacing, Hawk kept himself busy by stirring the dying fire from time to time, studying all the paintings and figurines in the room, and watching the hands on a large ornate clock that was perched atop a slender stone column crowned with a Tuscan capital. He’d never had reason to study a room more.
Hawk huffed, swore, hummed, and had even caught himself whistling once or twice. He’d had time to memorize every item in the entire room except for maybe a miniature of an afternoon in the park that had been painted on an elephant tusk. He hoped the damned thing had been found on a dried-up, long-dead carcass and not one shot just for the precious ivory, but he had his doubts that was true.
Yet the waiting had been beneficial, too, he decided, eyeing the delicate piece of artwork. It had given him time to rethink his approach to the earl. Instead of lambasting the man, as Hawk wanted to do for his disgraceful treatment of Miss Quick, he’d decided to mask his growing outrage, as best he could anyway, and take a different approach.
As objectionable as it was to even think it, he was going to mollycoddle the man. If that didn’t work, he’d do whatever he had to in order to get permission for Miss Quick to come to Hawksthorn.
Memories of their kisses came easily to his thoughts, reminding Hawk why he must see her again, and he silently thanked Adele again for the idea. He wanted to explore further the desire Miss Quick had aroused so quickly in him. He recalled the taste of her lips, her mouth, and her skin. He remembered the feel of her soft yet firm body, pliant, trembling, and willing in his arms. He’d wanted to seduce her, but she’d seduced him and left him wanting more. Anticipation flooded his loins as he thought of sliding his hands beneath her clothing, to feel her warm, bare skin and to pull her breast in his mouth, to—
“Your Grace.”
Hawk turned to greet the tall, heavyset man with shoulders as straight as a rod, a head full of thick gray hair, and enough arrogance to fill every ship in the Spanish Armada. The earl stopped just inside the entrance to the room and bowed stiffly, reminding Hawk that while they were acquaintances, they had never been friends.
