AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hawk,” she said very softly, “you are a good man.”
“Thank you,” he said, his voice utterly emotionless. “I shall see you soon, Amalie. Good night.”
She murmured good night after him. She heard his steps in the corridor, heard him take the stairs two at a time, heard the door close behind him. Life, she thought vaguely, feeling drowsiness tug at her, life was not simple.
Hawk walked down St. James Street, nodding automatically to acquaintances, speaking only when it would be rude not to.
He felt at odds with himself, a state he was neither accustomed to nor relished. When he saw Constance waving to him from her landau, he winced to himself. He now found her attractions dubious, and that surprised him. He’d known he would never marry her even if his father hadn’t made that ridiculous oath that had landed squarely on his shoulders, but still, he had enjoyed her. She was an accomplished flirt.
“My lord,” she called to him, motioning to her coachman to halt beside him.
“Good morning, Constance,” he said calmly, strolling to her carriage. “You are shopping?” He eyed the mound of packages strewn over her maid, and for a brief instant the maid looked at him. What he saw in that look made him wince again. It was ineffable weariness, a sort of dulled acceptance.
He forced himself to smile up at Constance.
“Yes, as you can see. Teresa, don’t let that package fall into the street, you stupid girl! Ah, Hawk, will you be at Lady Esterhazy’s ball this evening?”
He didn’t want to go to another bloody ball.
“I am not certain,” he hedged. “You are looking lovely as ever, Connie, but unfortunately I must forgo this pleasure. I have an appointment.” It was a lie, but he was desperate.
He tipped his head, and felt Constance’s anger flow toward him.
“I shall look forward to dancing with you,” she said, her voice shrill.
He watched the landau pull away, his brow furrowed. Traffic was as thick as usual, and it took some time for the coachman to ease into the flow. All those moments, he was pinned under Constance’s fixed smile.
Finally he was free and he continued his meanderings.
“Well, old fellow, you look a thundercloud that doesn’t know whether to rain or hail.”
“Saint Leven,” Hawk said, forcing a smile.
“Yes, I believe so,” Lyonel said, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. “I am off to Jackson’s. Do you wish to come with me?”
Hawk’s eyes glittered. Yes, he wanted violence, he wanted to pound someone or something. It would keep him from thinking.
Hawk readily accepted a challenge from young Canterley, a loud-mouthed bully from Suffolk who spent most of his time at Jackson’s, taking all comers and killing them. Within minutes, he was stripped and in the ring. The sight of Canterley’s bulging muscles didn’t faze him. Hawk was strong, well-coordinated, and his undefined rage made him formidable. His powerful body was glistening with sweat within minutes. He was destroying young Canterley.
“My lord, hold!”
He pulled back, panting. Gentleman Jackson was regarding him with some surprise. He looked at Canterley and saw blood streaming from his nose.
He shook his head.
“I say, Hawk, well done,” shouted Sir Peter Graven. “I had five guineas on you!”
“Come,” Saint Leven said, his voice very quiet and gentle.
“I can safely say that you’ve nipped that odious bully in the bud,” Lyonel said after they’d bathed and dressed again. “Do you feel better?”
Hawk rubbed an abstracted hand over his ribs. “He scored once, and it hurts.”
“When are you leaving?” Lyonel asked abruptly.
Hawk stared at him. “What the devil does that mean?”
“I mean that you’ve been in London for nearly two months. When are you returning to Yorkshire?”
