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December 23, 1819
“This is a pointless endeavor.” Belle blew out a huff of frustration as she shelved another book in the Ravenscroft library. “What Philip already didn’t go through is proving unfruitful. To say nothing of the fact that there aren’t many Shakespearean works here.” And certainly not in the genre Laurence had mentioned.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” Hawk frowned as he shook the book he held then thumbed quickly through its pages.
“But that was what my husband’s last words indicated.” She wandered along one of the shelves and trailed a fingertip over the spines. Why would he have mentioned those plays if the books weren’t here? Seconds later, she gasped. “The books aren’t in this room.”
“I thought that was obvious from our search.”
She temporarily pointed her gaze to the ceiling. “No, I meant that a couple of years before Laurence’s death, we had done some reorganizing of the manor house. Many boxes of books went over to the Dower House to fill the library shelves over there. Which was good because I assumed I would move into that house soon enough and I wanted to have familiar things around me.”
“Understandable.” Excitement reflected in his eyes. “Do you recall if more volumes of Shakespeare’s plays were in those boxes?”
“I cannot remember just now, but it warrants a look. Don’t you think?” His excitement transferred to her, and she couldn’t wait to start the adventure.
“Then let us not waste any more time.” He held out a hand and wriggled his fingers. “Ready?”
“Oh, yes.” When she slipped her fingers into his palm, heat tingled up her limb. A shiver leapt down her spine, and suddenly she wanted to know the intimacy of her body pressing to his again.
Twenty minutes later saw them in the library of Brambleberry Cottage. A few candles were lit, and their cheerful flames added warmth to the shadowy setting. Outside, the wind had picked up, which meant more rain was in the forecast. Their outerwear lay flung over the back of one of the wing-backed chairs.
Belle propped her hands on her hips and frowned at the shelves. “There are so many books. Where should we start?”
“Pick a shelf and dig in.” Hawk moved to the one nearest to his location. His fingertips danced along the spines. “What did your husband like to read?”
“When he did pick up a book, they were usually treatises about farming, books of hunting and other game in the area, or the locale itself.” She shrugged as she perused the titles. “Laurence was a rough and tumble man who adored the outside more than anything else. There wasn’t much elegance to him.”
“Yet he was a viscount, and you fell in love with him.”
An unladylike snort escaped her. “Just because a man holds a title doesn’t necessarily determine his worth as an individual.” Oh, there was a collection of Gothic novels she particularly liked. Making a mental note to come back and retrieve them for her personal reading, she moved slowly along the shelves. “And yes, I fell for him even knowing of his penchant for hunting and all things manly.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“At a house party at Ravenscroft House of all places. My father was the second son of a baron, so I was part of theton, but only just, so when one of my friends was issued an invitation, she asked me if I wished to accompany her.”
“And when you saw Ravenscroft for the first time, you fell instantly in love.” Amusement wove through the question.
“Not even a little bit.” She giggled and shot him a grin. “In fact, I couldn’t stand the man for the entire length of the house party. I thought him arrogant and conceited, someone who didn’t have a compassionate bone in his body.”
Surprise creased Hawk’s face. “Then how the devil did you come to marry him?”
“Honestly, he wore down my reserve. After I returned to London, I didn’t think about him for a few weeks. Then, when he apparently came back to Town, daily gifts and tokens of his affection kept showing up to the townhouse my father had rented for the Season. Finally, I couldn’t stand the attention, thought him rude to continue on, but then one day he came calling. He wanted to begin paying his addresses to me.”
“Let me guess. You being you with a tart mouth and a bit of a stubborn streak told him in no uncertain terms to go.”
“Of course I did.”
“But?”
She shrugged. “He kept on, and then he kissed me.” Heat went through her cheeks at the admission. “It was all over for me after that, for I adore being kissed as much as I love to dance. We were wed soon after, and Laurence did try to reduce the arrogance I took exception to, but he never quite lost the call of hunting and the out of doors.” For a few moments, she frowned at the book spines. “Which he shouldn’t have had to give up his entire life simply because he’d married me. That would have been selfish on my part to demand such a thing.”
“As I’ve said before, you are a brick of a woman. I hope he appreciated all that you are,” he said, and there was a hush in his voice.
“I suppose we will never know now.” Unshed tears balled in her throat. “He did the best that he could, I think, and we enjoyed a lovely union even if it didn’t contain all that I had hoped it might on my wedding day.”
“All the more reason for you to marry again instead of wasting away here,” Hawk said as he kept his attention on the book spines he perused. “I think you have too much love to give for you to give up merely in the face of another broken heart.”
“Easier said than done, I’m afraid.” Why was he so anxious to have her back out into circulation?
