Page 72 of Captivating the Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 5)

She’d nodded, her heart breaking into pieces. Her needs were very simple. She didn’t need flowers, watercolors, a large estate, or all the money her husband wished to bestow upon her. What she wanted and

needed was his strong arms holding her in the night. His deep laughter when she said something outrageous. The twinkle in his eye when he was having naughty thoughts.

Never would she have the children she’d hoped for. She touched her stomach. Unless she was already carrying Hawk’s child. Then what?

But most of all, she wanted his love. She thought she’d had it, but now it appeared it was all a lie. All she was to him was a duty, a way to assuage the guilt he felt at Monica’s death.

It didn’t matter, anyway. Either she did nothing to make amends to the Crown in her father’s name, or lose her husband, and any chance they might have had for happiness.

It had been unfair of him to offer that ultimatum, and she refused to spend the rest of her life with a husband who expected her to obey his every command, who wouldn’t even discuss things with her. She’d been making decisions for herself for two years and had rather enjoyed it. But this was so much more. Perhaps no one would know what she did to help the Crown capture another traitor. But she would, and it would ease her heart.

Should she approach Hawk with the details of the meeting? She toyed with the idea as she chewed the end of her pen. He’d made himself quite clear on the matter. If she defied him and went through with the meeting, she was to be shipped off to one of his estates, and the marriage that had held so much promise would be no longer.

There was no doubt in her mind about her love for Hawk. He was everything she ever wanted in a husband. Kind, considerate, loving, generous, with a good sense of humor. Yet, the one thing that she really needed him to support her in, he had backed away from. Indeed, had ordered her not to do it and admitted their marriage had only been for him to perform a “duty.”

She’d sympathized with her husband when he’d told her the story of his sister. It helped her to understand him better and appreciate where his overprotective nature came from. But she would not surrender her very freedom because of his experience.

After checking with the butler and learning that Hawk had left the house earlier with no indication as to where he was headed, she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber to prepare for her meeting. With a heavy heart, she entered the room and laid the note on her desk.

Chapter Thirty-One

Lizzie’s eyes darted around the room as she entered the dimly lit Rose and Thistle. Located in an older building in a lower-class neighborhood of London, the pub reeked of ale, sweat, and dirt. She kept her skirts close to her body as she stood at the door, unable to see more than the shadowy outline of several men hunched over worn wooden tables, hugging glasses. She then pried her shoes loose from the sticky floor as she moved forward.

Hawk had not been home when she left, giving her no chance to tell him where she was going. She dared not delay, because she wanted this matter over with. Also, since he had forbidden her to go, she doubted if he would have accompanied her anyway. Most likely, since she was merely a duty to him, he would have made things easy for himself and locked her in her room.

One footman accompanied them, and she and the driver—who assured her they were both armed—had set out for the Rose and Thistle.

After viewing the room, she did not see Lord Sidmouth, but another man stood as she moved further into the space. He straightened his cravat and jacket, then gestured for her to join him. A bit disconcerted, she did as he bid and took a seat across from him, holding her reticule with the blank papers in her lap. He was a short rotund man, with ruddy cheeks and dark whiskers that covered most of his face.

His smile did not reach his small brown eyes as he regarded her. “I don’t mean to cause you distress, Lady Hawkins. My name is Mr. Charles Allen. I am the Home Secretary’s personal assistant. He asked me to attend this meeting with you and accept the papers, as something has come up and he was unable to be here.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something was wrong. She stiffened in her chair, her fingers clenched together so tightly, they hurt. “Why are we not meeting at the Home Office, Mr. Allen?”

“His lordship allowed it would be better to meet away from the building since we are trying to keep this a secret.”

That wasn’t correct, since the idea had been for the culprit to witness her entering the Home Office to turn over the incriminating papers. “I would have been happy to change the time if he could not attend.”

Mr. Allen waved his hand. “It is of no consequence. He trusts me implicitly, and I can assure you we will make this exchange as quickly as possible and send you on your way.”

Her uneasiness turned to absolute certainty that she was facing the very man they were trying to identify. This man was unaware that the papers she carried were blank. He was the man who had sent men to kill her three times. She glanced around, looking for the quickest escape, while trying to keep him talking. “What about the Scotland Yard men?”

“They are outside, my lady. No worries. Just hand the papers to me, and you can be on your way.” Although the light was dim, the beads of sweat on his forehead and the constant shifting of his eyes had her drawing back.

“I don’t think I shall hand the papers over, sir. I prefer to wait until Lord Sidmouth is able to see me.”

As she made to stand, he quickly came to his feet and clamped his hand on her elbow, stopping her movement. “I think not, my lady. I prefer to have you sit back down and pretend everything is perfectly normal.” He withdrew a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at her. “Do I make myself clear?”

…

“She’s gone again?” Hawk bellowed loud enough to bring the Watch running from the street.

His eyes wide, the disconcerted butler swallowed. “I apologize, my lord, but this time I did not even know she left. Lady Hawkins sent one of the maids to arrange for the carriage since I was away from the door at the time.”

Chastising the man would serve no purpose, so he reined in his anger. “I’ll be in my bedchamber,” he growled. “Send the maid to me.”

“Yes, my lord.” The poor man’s face was ghastly white, but Hawk was too furious to care. If this was the meeting with the Home Office, he’d arrived too late. He’d spent the last few hours sitting in his club, pondering the situation—without the help of brandy—and decided he’d been an absolute arse.

A complete and unadulterated fool.