Secrets of Seduction (21 page)

Upon arriving in
London late the next morning, they delayed only long enough to change carriage horses and to visit a milliner’s shop, where Skye purchased two fashionable turbans for Rachel to wear in public until she was able to dye her hair.

In London, they parted ways with Macky. Hawk had ordered a detailed investigation into Rachel’s past, so Bow Street Runner Horace Linch had already been dispatched to Brackstone in Kent, to find out all he could from the locals about the late Baron Farnwell, William. Macky would focus on the current Baron Farnwell, Edgar, since Hawk wanted to know exactly the sort of man they would be dealing with. Edgar had not even been born until three years after Lady Farnwell had fled England, so whatever knowledge she had of him was hearsay from a long distance away.

Understanding his temperament would allow them to judge how he might react to her “return from the dead”—whether he could be reasoned with or if they could expect a battle royal.

Additionally, Macky was to deliver Skye’s message to her uncle at Beauvoir, the family seat of the Marquises of Beaufort, also in Kent. Lord Cornelius had made his primary home there since assuming guardianship of the five orphaned Wilde children.

Learning of Rachel’s survival would likely be a huge shock, and Skye wanted to prepare her uncle in person, rather than baldly springing the news on him in a letter. Thus, she said she had great need of him and begged him to come to Hawkhurst Castle in East Sussex to aid in restoring the earl’s library to its former glory. She was certain Cornelius would comply with alacrity, since he had always put the youngsters’ welfare above his own, and a library in desperate need of restoration would be an irresistible lure.

As they traveled closer to Hawk’s home, however, she grew more concerned about both Rachel and Hawk. Rachel’s doubts were once again rearing up, so Skye spent the remainder of the journey trying to ease her fears and giving her a wide-ranging account of how British society had changed in her long absence. Skye herself was highly sociable, with the innate ability to put others at ease, but she was looking forward to getting assistance from her Aunt Isabella, who was a champion at raising spirits.

Hawk, on the other hand, was more worrisome. Skye observed him as they drove through the iron-pillared gateway of the castle. His features were shuttered, and when the looming edifice came into view, all hint of emotion disappeared from his expression, leaving only a cold, impassive mask.

Skye searched for something to say, to distract him from the pain he must have felt each time he returned
to his empty home, and wound up chattering about the nearby village of Hawkhurst, what sort of market and shops it offered. She hoped Bella would be able to help coax Hawk out of his self-imposed isolation and chip away at the granite wall of defenses he’d erected to avoid more excruciating pain.

Lady Isabella must have been watching for them, for when the coach swept up the rutted gravel drive and came to a halt in front of the castle, she ran lightly down the steps, exclaiming in delight at their arrival.

True to expectations, her warmth and easygoing nature were on display for them all. The lively half-Spanish widow was nearing middle age, but she seemed much younger than her forty-six years as she embraced Skye first. “I am so pleased to see you, my dear.”

“Thank you for coming to our rescue, Aunt Bella.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

Her treatment of Skye had always been motherly but in a way that fostered independence, since she ardently believed that women should not be at the mercy of men, as she had been during her first marriage to a Spanish nobleman.

Isabella turned to Hawk next and pressed a friendly kiss to his cheek. When Skye spied the silent look they exchanged, she interpreted Hawk’s piercing glance to mean something like,
I intend to throttle you, Bella, for sharing so much of my past with your niece
.

Aloud, he said only, “I will speak to you later, my lady.”

The moment of reckoning had to be postponed while Isabella welcomed Rachel to the castle. She caught the baroness’s hands in her own, and for the sake of the
servants in earshot, greeted her as Mrs. Donnelly. But once they were all inside and had handed over their outer garments, Isabella didn’t delay in arranging more privacy.

After ordering tea to be brought in, she led the way to the drawing room, where a fire burned cheerily in the hearth. Immediately, she was more effusive toward Rachel and more sympathetic as well as they sat side by side on a sofa. “Please let me say that I am all admiration, my dear. After the trials you endured … to maintain such strength and presence of mind as to fool your tormenter and begin your life over entirely in another country … well, I don’t know that I could ever have been as brave. I know we shall become fast friends.”

Rachel flushed in gratitude and seemed well on the way to being won over.

Skye was glad her aunt would take Rachel under her wing. Not only were the two nearer in age, Bella had far more worldly experience and would be better at making a lady with such a traumatic past feel safe and cared for.

Then Hawk explained what he needed in the way of a disguise for Rachel, starting with henna dye for her hair. Isabella’s dark eyes lit with mischievousness and she promptly launched into a tale about her time in the Kingdom of Algiers in northern Africa, when she’d been held captive in the harem of a Berber sheikh and learned about exotic cosmetics and beautifying agents such as henna. “Leave everything to me. I promise I can make Mrs. Donnelly look like an Irishwoman born and bred.”

While her aunt was reminiscing, Skye noticed that
the drawing room had already been restored to a semblance of its former elegance. The ghostly holland covers had been banished, every wood surface gleamed with beeswax, and the air no longer smelled musty and damp.

When Skye remarked on it, Isabella beamed with pride. “I must admit, I have accomplished a great deal since my arrival last week. Wet tea leaves sprinkled on the carpets before sweeping cuts down on the dust, while incense burned daily helps drive away odors.”

“You have worked wonders, Aunt.”

“As you suggested, we are conquering the house room by room. It has helped that Kate started hiring staff from London—Lady Katharine Wilde is my other niece by marriage,” Isabella explained to Rachel before addressing Hawk again. “A good number of the furnishings are long out of fashion, my lord. It may cost you a pretty penny to replace them, but I shall take pleasure in diminishing your purse,” she teased in the bantering way of a long friendship.

Hawk did not immediately respond, for he seemed to be occupied in listening intently. Just then Skye became aware of the faint din in the distance—a din that sounded like hammering and pounding.

“The reconstruction has begun?” Hawk asked Bella.

“Not quite yet. The damaged rooms in the east wing have been razed and much of the debris hauled away. Your architect, Mr. Beald, wishes to meet with you at your earliest convenience.”

“Now is a good time. If you will pray excuse me, ladies …”

When Hawk rose from his chair and made for the
door, Skye hurried to follow and caught him before he could leave the drawing room.

“Where are you going?”

“To confer with Beald and inspect the renovations thus far.”

“May I come with you?” she asked, not wanting him to face the demolished wing alone.

He hesitated. “If I deny my permission, will you make a pest of yourself and tag along anyway?”

“Yes, of course.”

The faint hint of exasperation reappeared, which relieved Skye, as did his rather mild command. “Come, then.”

He led the way outside to the rear of the castle. Work had progressed significantly on the damaged wing, Skye saw at once. A gaping hole stood at the end of the east wing, and most of the evidence of the fire was gone.

The architect’s crews were scurrying here and there, filling wagons with debris from the wreckage, just as Bella had said. Judging by the virtual army of workers, Skye suspected Hawk was paying a fortune for speed so he could bring his new bride home as soon as possible.

A muscle worked in Hawk’s jaw, but otherwise his response was indiscernible. Skye felt his homecoming could have been much worse, though. The air of neglect and hopelessness about the castle seemed somehow diminished.

Perhaps it was partly due to the bustling atmosphere. The sun would set soon, and the laborers seemed to be striving for as much progress as possible before dusk. Or perhaps the change was due to the season and
clement weather. It was a clear, crisp autumn day, and the gold and red colors of the surrounding landscape added to the pleasant aura.

Skye was immensely glad for the fair weather. Sunshine made everything brighter, and if the storms would retreat for the moment, her dreams would be more peaceful, even if Hawk would not be sleeping beside her to comfort her.

She hoped Hawk’s sleep would be helped as well. He seemed to divine what she was thinking, for he drawled in a wry voice, “I won’t be driven to drink or start throwing brandy decanters, if that is what worries you.”

Skye smiled in relief. “In truth, it does worry me.”

“Then you may stop watching me so intently. You are scrutinizing me as if I might erupt at any moment.”

Actually she was more concerned that Hawk would hold all his bitterness and grief and anger inside. But rather than argue that eruptions could be healing, she noted that a tall, thin man was walking across the courtyard toward them.

When Hawk introduced him to Skye as a renowned architect, Mr. Nathanial Beald hastened to give a report.

“My lord, I am pleased to say that we are slightly ahead of schedule. The next step is to erect wooden scaffolding to begin rebuilding. And as we discussed, we will reuse the stone to make the exterior of this wing appear to match the rest.…”

Skye was glad to discover that the renovations would take perhaps five or six more months to complete, but the interval would do little to prevent or even delay
Hawk’s expected courtship. He could still take Miss Olwen for his bride, even if he had no splendid estate to offer his countess yet.

But for just now, Skye was content that Hawk would be occupied and his dark memories overshadowed by this new purpose.

She left him conferring with the architect and poring over blueprints, and made her way back to the house. She wanted to give her aunt and Rachel time to become acquainted. Thus, rather than return to the drawing room, Skye stopped by the kitchens and spoke to the cook about dinner: where to hold it and what to prepare. Then she went to her own room to change her attire for dinner.

Isabella, bless her, had brought a trunkful of gowns, but Skye chose a simple blue kerseymere dress in deference to Rachel’s lack of formal attire.

She was repinning her hair in a knot at her nape when Isabella knocked lightly and entered at Skye’s invitation.

“I have given Rachel the bedchamber adjacent to mine. Poor soul. But I do like her gumption in defying her brute of a husband.”

“So do I,” Skye agreed.

“Tomorrow we will begin work on her disguise and shop for a proper wardrobe for her, but for now I will loan her some of my gowns. She is more my size than yours.” They were of similar heights, but her aunt’s figure was plumper with a thicker waist.

With those details settled, Isabella wasted no time in expressing her curiosity. “So, my dear, I am on pins and needles to hear about your romance with Hawk. What have you determined thus far?”

Skye winced. “I am convinced he is my match, Aunt Bella.”

“So you are compatible in mind and body and heart?”

“In many ways, yes, I believe so. I felt sparks of lightning from the first moment we met, just as you predicted. When I am with him, I forget how to breathe. And yet we have an undeniable connection beyond the physical. He makes me yearn for something deeper.”

“How far have you progressed in the physical realm?”

Skye felt her cheeks flushing at her aunt’s plain speaking. “Farther than I expected. You were right. Passion with a special lover is amazing. But as for my dream of finding true love with Hawk? He is very likely wed to the Guardians, so nothing I say or do may matter.” She explained his reason for choosing Miss Olwen, then sighed. “Even if I could persuade him to fall in love with me—which is questionable—we may have no future together.”

“And on his part? What does Hawk believe?”

“I had to confess about Kate’s theory. He thinks the notion of us being legendary lovers is absurd.”

“Still, you did well to tell him the truth.”

“I know. ‘Honesty is imperative for love to grow.’ Weren’t those your exact words? If you have other secrets of seduction to share, I should very much like to hear them.”

Isabella pursed her lips thoughtfully. “For now, my best advice is to strive for patience, my dear. You cannot force love, particularly with a man so emotionally scarred as Hawk. He must learn to love again, and you are the perfect woman to teach him.”

“I will do my best. Perhaps I can claim some progress. Since we first met, he has become less reclusive and a trifle more open about his feelings. But it is supremely frustrating to be so helpless.”

They spoke for quite a while longer, with Bella offering consolation and inspiration and Skye explaining her immediate plans, starting with the arrangements for dinner and Hawk’s severe dislike of his own dining room, then catching up on the other Wilde family members and Skye’s hope for Uncle Cornelius’s reunion with Rachel.

The last thing Aunt Bella said before leaving to change her own attire was for Skye not to lose heart—just the encouragement Skye needed to bolster her resolve.

Following her aunt to the door, she gave Isabella a fierce hug. “I cannot tell you how glad I am to have you here, dearest auntie.”

“I know, darling girl. But never fear, we will not fail.”

Upon shutting her bedchamber door after her aunt, Skye marveled at how much lighter her spirits felt after their coze. In her campaign to win Hawk’s heart, she had needed to call in reinforcements, and there was no better general in the war of love than Lady Isabella Wilde.