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the chin,  I ll still adore you like I did when you were nine.
She smiled at him fondly.  You threw a worm on me when I was nine.
 Evidence of my devotion.
Devotion. . .
The very word made her unsteady. She forced a smile, tears threatening.  I ll need to think this over.
 Take your time. I m here for you, anything you need. Good night, Bel. He bent and kissed her hands,
then gently released her and marched out.
It had been two weeks since he had seen her at the opera. Three, since she had abandoned Hawkscliffe
Hall and stormed out of his life. Hawk had gone through the preceding days in a fog of desolation.
After escorting his sister and her companion back to Town, an endless round of meetings and
committees ate up his time. He attended them all, going through the motions with his usual aloof, cordial
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reserve.
 Hawkscliffe is back, everyone said, and they meant more than his return from the country.
The men at the club toasted his health as his star continued to rise. The Patronesses welcomed him back
into the fold. Though disappointment at his rumored nuptials appeared universal among the female half of
the ton, women had taken to sighing when he walked past. It seemed his admirers were touched to the
core by his gallant choice of poor, gentle, lovely Lady Juliet Breckinridge. Taking the flawed beauty for
his bride had sealed his fame as a knight in shining armor.
He felt like hell. He felt like a fraud and his soul was dying.
Every time he saw Coldfell, he had the strange, brooding, angry feeling that he had unwittingly sold
himself to the devil.
He got through each meaningless, dragging day by pretending with all his might that Belinda Hamilton
didn t exist. It was difficult when Knight House echoed with images of her everywhere he turned. There
was no escape from the whisper of her memory in every room. She was in his blood, under his skin,
haunting him like a pitiless ghost. The smell of her still clung in his clothes, the taste of her still lingered on
his tongue, and sometimes when he tried to fall asleep, he could still almost feel her touching him and he
hurt so badly that he wanted to die.Forget.
He would forget.
Every day when he strode into White s he braced himself for the blow, knowing that one of these days,
the gossip was bound to reach him about whom she had chosen for her new protector. But thankfully his
club mates were careful not to talk about her around him.
All but one. Lord Alec returned from some house party where he had been languishing in his usual
decadence for some time. His blue eyes blazing with anger, he walked into White s, strode straight over
to where Hawk sat studying a primer of German phrases for his Austrian trip, silently forming the
awkward words on his tongue.
Alec braced his hands on the table and glowered at him.  You re an idiot. Do you know that? An idiot,
you pompous ass.
With his chin angled downward over his book, Hawk slanted him a dark warning look.
 You killed for her. You would have died for her. I saw how you were together. She s the one, Hawk,
and you let her go. For what?
He didn t answer.
 I know why, you imbecile. One word fear. Go after her.
 No.
 Why? he cried.
 She left me. What am I supposed to do?
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 Whatever it takes! Anything is better than just sitting there like some cold, righteous prig! Do you want
me to talk to her for you?
 No. Jesus, Alec, keep your voice down. He glanced around at the stares of his club mates.  As you
can see, I m trying to work here, so would you leave me the hell alone?
 Alone is exactly what you re going to be, Your Grace and exactly what you deserve. You know
something? She s better off without you. Because you, my friend, are just like your cold-hearted father.
Alec shoved away from the table and stalked out.
When he was gone Hawk looked blankly at the page of German phrases. As he sat there slowly rubbing
his mouth in agitation, he felt an indescribable panic rising in him. His pulse roared in his ears.
He observed himself closing the book before him. He slid a piece of fine linen paper toward him and
dipped his quill pen in the inkpot to his right. His hand trembled as he paused, searching for the words in
his reeling brain, then wrote:
Notice of Carte Blanche
By my signature is hereby granted full fiduciary authority to the holder of this certificate, Miss Belinda
Hamilton. All debts incurred herewith should be forwarded to me at Knight House, St. James s Square.
Signed this 12th day of September, 1814.
Hawkscliffe
He dripped a dab of wax below his name and pressed his signet ring into it. When the wax hardened he [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]