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Belle sighed. “Mama isn’t the most congenial person. She often complains and grouses, and she is constantly critical, and she doesn’t care to have visitors. So I limit my trips to her to twice a year.”
“That is such a difficult problem to navigate. Again, I am sorry.” For long moments, Hawk watched Mathieu play with the newspaper as if the cat had never had such a joyful toy. “Tell me, instead, why you adore the Christmastide season.”
“It is a time of the year that brings me much joy.” She returned to the ladder. “The decorations and the scents of the holiday make me feel comforted. I give the staff little gifts, and when they smile, I can pretend I have a large family around me, and that I’m not alone in the world.” A tiny waver set up in her voice, and she hated herself for the weakness in front of this man. “And before you ask, yes, I could easily return to London, but the thought of doing so alone is mildly terrifying for me. Everyone would expect me to re-enter society and do the pretty, would constantly ask why I don’t marry again.”
“You will not?” Nothing in his expression gave away his thoughts.
“I am not certain, and that would largely depend on the man.” Her gaze went to the cheerfully dancing flames in the hearth. “There are times, though, when I dream of having a romance again, or of a man who will make a grand gesture that shows beyond a doubt how his feelings run.”
A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Your husband wasn’t keen on romance?”
“Laurence wasn’t one to show affection or emotions. He loved everything hunting related and was much an outdoorsman. That didn’t leave much time for romance, and no, before you question it, bedsport between us—though satisfying—wasn’t… as sweet or heady as I would have liked at times.”
Please don’t ask me more about that.What had possessed her to even share what she had? The heat of embarrassment went through her cheeks. What would he think of her?
As a tension-charged silence brewed between them, soft rain outside hit against the windowpanes.
“Did you enjoy that aspect of your marriage though?”
“Of course I did, and I won’t apologize for that.”
He sent her an odd look. “Why in the world would you?”
“In many circles, it is frowned upon when women enjoy such intimacy.” She shrugged. “But that is an integral part of marriage, and it makes me happy.” Was that a horrible thing to admit?
A mischievous light appeared in his eyes and those sensual lips curved into a slight grin. “Why, Lady Ravenscroft, every little thing I learn about you only makes me want to know more.” When she sputtered and searched frantically for something intelligent to say, he continued. “What was one of your favorite traditions from your childhood that you indulged in to mark the Christmastide season?”
She wrapped a portion of red satin ribbon around her forefinger. “I liked watching Cook prepare all the foods for Christmas dinner. She would make special dishes and pastries only during that time. And sometimes my father would shoot pheasant or the occasional goose if we passed the holidays in the country. Then those birds would be cooked with much pageantry, and then there is the Christmas Eve church service.”
“Are you a regular attendee?”
“I haven’t been for a long while. Not because this time of year isn’t special, but due to the fact that everything is more cozy, and if one doesn’t have someone in their life to share it with, that very alone-ness is driven home.” A wad of unshed tears rose in her throat. “As the months go by and I keep to these grounds, I am afraid I will never leave, but conversely, it makes me slightly anxious to, in fact, leave.”
“You are far too young to hide yourself here, Belle. Life is to be lived.” There was no censure, now, only understanding. “I felt that way shortly after leaving the regular military, though, so I know what you’re feeling.”
“Did you father want you to join the military?” Now was her opportunity to learn more about this man that continually stoked the fires in her blood. The man who kept many secrets.
“Ha!” The grin widened, and sent flutters skittering through her belly. “My father wished me to join the church.”
That struck her as funny, and when she laughed, Belle hadn’t realized how rarely she did so. “A man with your skill in kissing and talent for lying is not a good fit for the church.”
When Hawk chuckled, the rich timbre of that sound wrapped her in warmth. “You are not wrong.” He focused on Mathieu, who couldn’t seem to have enough of the newspaper. “I’m the third son of Viscount Blackwell, you see. Not even the spare. So where my oldest brother has the title now, my middle brother chose to play at being a rake in London over going into the military. That sounded rather interesting to me, so when I bought my own commission from coin left to me from my mother’s estate, my father was livid.”
“I’ll wager that is why you lingered in His Majesty’s Service for so long.”
“Yes and no.” He shrugged and his jacket pulled tight over his chest and shoulders. “I found I truly enjoyed that life, and what was more, I was good at it. So good, in fact, that I was promoted to spy seven years in.”
No doubt he’d been all over the world and had seen countless interesting sites. Another spear of jealousy went through her. “Are you a spy still?” If he was, that was another reason why she should keep her heart safe behind the walls surrounding it.
For long moments he stared at her. Even Mathieu stopped his maniacal jumping and tearing of the paper as if waiting for his answer. Finally, Hawk nodded. “I am, but I trust you will not betray that secret.”
“Of course not.” When she reached for the wreath, he sprang up from his chair and took the decoration from her. “Thank you.” Then she climbed up several rungs. “Does the Home Office often employ men of your age?”
“Do you considermeelderly at forty?” he asked instead.
“I do not.” Would they could spend the afternoon talking, for she rather enjoyed the sound of his voice. She tamped on the urge to grin as she reached the rung highest to the fireplace mantel. Then, daring much, Belle stepped onto the wide mantel and gestured with a hand. “Give me the wreath, please.”
He came up a few steps of the ladder. “You should let me do that.”
