The Duke's Cinderella Bride (21 page)

Arabella’s absolute faith in Jane’s innocence only highlighted Hawk’s total disbelief in that innocence!

She chose to position herself as far away from him as possible once they had entered the drawing room, standing beside the fireplace while Hawk moved to stand before a window, his face in shadow as the sun shone in at his back.

Not that Jane needed to see his expression to read his mood. The stiffness of his stance—shoulders rigidly back, spine ramrod-straight, chin angled arrogantly—was enough to inform her that this interview was going to be no more pleasant than the one that had taken place in the library earlier that morning.

No one seemed inclined to speak at all until after Jenkins had delivered the tea tray, and Jane took advantage of this lull in the conversation to remove her cloak and bonnet, and shake her curls loose after their confinement.

‘What is your connection to the Sulbys, Jane?’

Her eyes widened on the Earl of Whitney as the harshness of his tone disturbed the silence. ‘I believe I have already stated, sir, that they were acquaintances of my mother.’

‘Your mother who died in childbirth?’

Jane gave a humourless smile. ‘I had only one mother, sir.’ Two fathers, she might have added, but didn’t. The Duke already had a bad enough opinion of her without regaling him with the tale of her illegitimacy. She turned to him as he stood so still and silent
in front of the window. ‘If, as you claim, sir, it is not your immediate intention to have me arrested—’

‘It is not!’ the Duke rasped harshly.

Jane gave an acknowledging inclination of her head. ‘Then what are your immediate plans for me, Your Grace?’

That was a very pertinent question. And one that Hawk did not have an answer to. What he wanted to do—sweep Jane up in his arms and carry her to his bedchamber, and once there make love to her until they were both weak and in need of sustenance other than each other—was obviously out of the question in the presence of Whitney and Arabella.

But that did not mean he couldn’t at least try to correct Jane’s impression that he intended consigning her to a prison cell at the first opportunity!

‘I would like the two of us to talk, Jane,’ he said stiffly.

‘Talk?’ She raised surprised brows. ‘About what, Your Grace?’

Hawk drew in a ragged breath. ‘Let us start, Jane, with the coldness with which you continue to address me!’

It was apparent from the way Jane’s cheeks coloured so prettily that she was well aware of the reason he disclaimed the need for such formality between them.

She shrugged. ‘I feel it is for the best, Your Grace.’

‘Whose best?’

‘Yours as well as my own!’ Her eyes glittered warningly.

If only Whitney and Arabella were not present Hawk would have wasted no time in demonstrating just how much he disagreed with that claim. Yesterday evening he and Jane had shared a degree of intimacy usually
reserved for the marriage bed, and as such her coldness towards him this morning was intolerable.

‘Such formality between the two of us is unpalatable to me, Jane,’ he assured her hardly.

‘Then perhaps it is only I who feels that need, Your Grace!’ Jane shot him another quelling glance.

‘What is happening, Hawk…?’ Arabella prompted uncertainly.

He held Jane’s rebellious gaze for several more meaningful seconds before turning to address his sister. ‘I have not had an opportunity to discuss this matter with Jane yet, Arabella, and until I do I feel it would not be…wise on my part—’ his mouth twisted ruefully ‘—to relay our news to others.’

‘What news?’ Jane echoed incredulously. ‘That you believe me to be a thief and a liar—?’ She broke off as Hawk quickly crossed the room, his expression one of savage fury as he grasped the tops of her arms and shook her. ‘Hawk…!’ she gasped when she managed to regain her breath. ‘Hawk, you are hurting me!’

‘As you are hurting me,’ he ground out between gritted teeth. ‘Damn it, Jane, I do not believe you to be a thief or a liar!’

‘But—’

‘I did not believe it this morning and I do not believe it now!’

‘But—’

‘My advice is to take him at his word, Jane,’ the Earl of Whitney told her laconically.

‘Oh, do be quiet!’

‘Stay out of this, Whitney!’

Jane’s eyes widened on the fierceness of Hawk’s ex
pression as they both answered the Earl at the same time, her gaze searching now as she looked into the dangerous glitter of those predatory gold eyes. ‘I do not understand…’ she finally murmured, with a puzzled shake of her head.

His mouth thinned in the arrogant austerity of his face. ‘Perhaps it will help your understanding if I tell you it is my wish to make you my Duchess at the earliest opportunity?’

Jane felt the colour drain from her cheeks even as she stared up at him disbelievingly.

H
awk, the Duke of Stourbridge, wished to marry her?

And yet everything in his manner since their shared intimacy the evening before had pointed to him wishing the opposite—that he had never so much as set eyes upon her!

If that was so then what possible reason could the arrogant Duke of Stourbridge now have for making such an announcement—

The arrogant, but so impeccably honourable Duke of Stourbridge!

Could it be that despite her orphaned state, her lack of a place in Society, Hawk felt honour-bound—compelled, following their intimacy of the evening before, to make her an offer of marriage?

Jane’s hope—that brief bubble of happiness that had risen so swiftly on hearing his announcement, on so fleetingly believing that Hawk might return the love she felt for him—burst painfully within her chest.

Her mouth twisted with regret. ‘I cannot believe
that you truly wish to take an accused thief as your wife.’

‘You are not accused by me, Jane!’ His face was stony.

‘No?’ She viewed him sadly. ‘That was not my impression earlier today.’

‘You misunderstood the content of my conversation earlier, Jane, and did not give me a chance to explain.’

‘I will not allow you to propose the idea of a marriage between us, Your Grace.’ She firmly extricated herself from the hands that no longer gripped her arms as tightly as they had. ‘I could not—would not—marry you if you were the last man upon this earth!’

‘Oh, cutting, Jane,’ the Earl of Whitney murmured frowningly. ‘Very cutting.’

Hawk ignored the other man. ‘Why not, Jane?’ A nerve pulsed in the tightness of his clenched jaw.

She eyed him stonily. ‘Is it not enough that I have refused to even contemplate the very idea, Your Grace?’

It had never occurred to Hawk—he had not expected, never considered—that Jane might turn down his offer of marriage!

He had waited one and thirty years to make such an offer. Had evaded the avaricious clutches of young women and their marriage-minded mothers too numerous to recall. And now, when he finally felt compelled to make an offer, Jane had refused without hesitation.

Hawk had realised when he’d found Jane had fled Mulberry Hall without so much as a word of goodbye that he must find her and bring her back. Had known without a doubt, when he had found her again, that the thought of Jane leaving his life never to be seen again was unacceptable to him.

All for nought.

Because Jane did not feel the same reluctance at being parted from him.

He stepped back. ‘I apologise if I have offended you by so much as mentioning the possibility of marriage between us,’ he said stiffly. ‘I assure you it was not my intention to cause you distress.’

Jane held her chin regally high. ‘Your apology is accepted. Now, if there is nothing else you wish to say to me, I would like to be on my way.’

‘Ah, but there is something else
I
would like to say to you, Jane.’ It was the Earl of Whitney who addressed her this time.

Jane turned to look at him, her gaze mocking. ‘Surely you are not about to make me an offer of marriage too, My Lord?’

‘Hardly!’ He looked horrified at the idea. ‘I would, however, like to hear more about these guardians of yours…’

Jane stiffened warily. ‘Why?’

He gave a shrug. ‘I believe I may once have been acquainted with Lady Sulby. If her name was previously Gwendoline Simmons, that is,’ he added.

Jane’s wariness increased. ‘I believe that was her name prior to her marriage to Sir Barnaby, yes,’ she confirmed reluctantly.

She didn’t want to talk of Lady Sulby or Sir Barnaby. She badly needed to leave this place—to get as far away from Hawk as she possibly could—before she broke down in front of him and begged him to love her as she loved him!

She gave a shake of her head. ‘I do not believe such
a conversation would serve any purpose, My Lord.’ She turned away to pick up her cloak and bonnet. ‘Now, if you will excuse me—’

‘Jane, I have to know if—Was your mother’s name Janette?’

Jane froze. Halted in mid-flight. Barely able to breathe. Her eyes deep green pools of pain as she turned slowly, oh-so-slowly, to face the Earl of Whitney. ‘How is it that you know my mother’s name, sir…?’

‘Dear God…’ the Earl groaned weakly, his face—that rakishly handsome face, that had been breaking female hearts for over thirty years—having gone deathly pale. ‘You are Janette’s daughter!’ He reached out a hand to tightly grasp the back of a chair, his knuckles showing white. ‘I thought—I was drawn to you yesterday evening because you had the look of her. The same red hair and sparkling green eyes.’ He shook his head self-derisively. ‘But you see, Jane, I have looked for her face in so many others over the years,’ he acknowledged heavily. ‘So many women. But none of them ever Janette…’

Hawk took a protective step towards Jane as she seemed to sway slightly, her eyes limpid green pools in a face now gone white with shock.

His expression darkened warningly as he looked at the other man. ‘Can you not see that you are distressing her, Whitney?’ he rasped frowningly.

The Earl had eyes only for Jane. ‘Am I distressing you, Jane?
Am
I?’ He reached out to grasp her hands tightly within his.

Jane looked up at him searchingly. ‘How—when did you know my mother?’

‘When, Jane?’ the Earl repeated harshly. ‘Would you like the exact date and hour of when I last set eyes upon her? Or will you settle for just the month and year…?’

Jane moistened lips gone stiff with shock. ‘Please, My Lord, just tell me what you know of my mother!’

‘Hawk, I really think that Jane should sit down,’ Arabella cut in concernedly. ‘She is ill…’

‘No, I am not ill, Arabella,’ Jane turned to reassure her huskily. ‘I am merely—Please, My Lord.’ She turned back to the Earl. ‘Tell me all that you know of my mother.’

Hawk felt his heart clench in his chest at the wistfulness he detected in Jane’s voice as she pleaded for knowledge—any knowledge—of the mother who had died giving birth to her.

He did not even begin to understand why the conversation had become so intense. He only knew that, like Arabella, he feared for Jane’s health if this interminable situation continued. ‘Pour the tea, Arabella,’ he advised abruptly. ‘Hot and strong for Jane, with plenty of sugar.’

Jane shook her head. ‘I have refused sugar ever since my father explained the cruelty associated with its origins.’

‘Today you will take sugar, Jane,’ Hawk assured her firmly. ‘Today you are in need of it.’ He sent Whitney a censorious glance.

The Earl blinked, as if awakening from a dream. ‘Yes, you must take tea, Jane,’ he encouraged huskily, as he led her over to one of the armchairs and sat her down upon it. ‘Perhaps I will join you,’ he added gently, and he sat in the chair opposite, his gaze intent upon her face, her hands still held tightly within his own. ‘You really are so very like her, you know,’ he murmured softly.

Hawk continued to look at Jane concernedly as she released her hands from Whitney’s in order to drink the tea Arabella had carried over to her. Some of the colour returned to her cheeks as she sipped the hot, sugary brew. And all the time Jane’s gaze remained riveted upon the Earl’s face. As if she dared not let him out of her sight. As if she feared that if she did so he might simply disappear.

That hungry need in Jane’s face as she looked at the other man caused Hawk’s heart to clench inside his chest like a fist.

Could it be—had Jane fallen in love with the Earl of Whitney? Could that be the reason she would not even countenance the idea of a marriage proposal from Hawk?

Jane placed her empty cup carefully upon the tea tray. ‘Please tell me all that you know of my mother, My Lord,’ she encouraged the Earl huskily.

‘Where to start?’ The Earl grimaced, his own tea ignored as it sat upon the table beside him. His gaze remained on Jane in unhidden fascination. ‘I cannot believe—it is incredible, after all this time, to meet Janette’s daughter. I—Forgive me, Jane. I digress.’ He gave a dazed shake of his head. ‘Tell me what you already know of her…’

Jane gave a rueful smile. ‘From my father, I know that she was good and kind and beautiful.’

‘She was, Jane.’ The Earl nodded. ‘Oh, yes, she was all of those things!’

Jane grimaced. ‘From Lady Sulby I know that my mother was none of those things. That she was wild and sinful. That her wanton behaviour brought disgrace upon her family and friends—’

‘The witch!’ The Earl stood up impatiently, a dark frown upon his brow. ‘You did not believe her, Jane?’ He scowled his impatience.

Jane shrugged. ‘I tried not to, sir—’

‘But you
must
not, Jane!’ The Earl protested vehemently, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. ‘Gwendoline Simmons—Lady Sulby—’ he grimaced with distaste ‘—is a spiteful, vindictive woman. She was jealous of Janette’s beauty always. Of the warmth that so easily drew people to her. Of the fact that from the day I met Janette I loved her more than life itself…’ he added, in voice gone husky with pain.

Jane stared up at him. Justin Long, Earl of Whitney, had once been in love with Janette…?

Hawk stared at the Earl too. Whitney was twenty years older than himself—had already been established as a rake beyond compare when Hawk had entered Society fourteen years ago. The other man’s behaviour had never quite gone beyond the pale, but had certainly flirted along the edges of it. His Countess was reputed to have died of a broken heart rather than of the influenza that was claimed to have taken her life and that of her young son.

If Jane’s mother had died at her birth, twenty-two years ago, then surely Whitney had to have been already a married man when he claimed to have loved Janette…?

Hawk looked searchingly at Jane, wondering what she was making of the Earl’s conversation. She didn’t look as surprised as he might have expected. In fact she looked almost calm at Whitney’s claim to having been in love with her mother…

‘Perhaps, Hawk,’ Arabella put in quietly, ‘it might be
better if you and I were to absent ourselves from what appears to be a very personal conversation?’

Hawk scowled across at his sister for her suggestion. Jane might have turned down his marriage proposal out of hand, but that did not lessen the protectiveness he felt towards her.

‘There is no need for that, Arabella,’ Jane assured her warmly. ‘In fact, I believe it might be informative for you both if you were to remain,’ she added, with a brief glance in Hawk’s direction.

A glance that contained—what? Hawk could not be sure. Apprehension, certainly. But what else…?

Whitney seemed to gather his thoughts together with an effort. ‘First, Jane, I have to tell you of Gwendoline Simmons—of her obsession. With me.’ He grimaced as Jane looked puzzled. ‘I was twenty-four when she came to London for her first Season. I was rather full of myself, I am afraid. Engaging in discreet affairs with married ladies while flirting outrageously with all the new debutantes of the Season.’ He gave a disgusted shake of his head. ‘I was full of conceit, Jane.’

‘You were single and eligible and only twenty-four years old, My Lord,’ she excused him softly.

‘That is no excuse, Jane,’ he assured her hardly. ‘Gwendoline Simmons took my interest to heart, you see, and fancied herself in the role of my future Countess.’ He sighed. ‘Of course my intentions towards her were not serious. I was merely playing with her. Honing my seduction skills. But Gwendoline’s pursuit of me became—intense. Whenever I turned around, it seemed she was there—at my elbow, simpering and flirting and generally making a nuisance of herself. In
the end I had to be cruel to be kind.’ He frowned darkly. ‘She did not take my rejection well.’

‘I can imagine.’ With the personal knowledge Jane had of Lady Sulby’s greedy and manipulative nature, she could imagine the scenario the Earl described only too well!

The Earl’s mouth tightened. ‘I am sure that you can, Jane.’ He grimaced. ‘Unfortunately my father deplored my rakish behaviour, and demanded that I find myself a wife and settle down. That I became a more worthy heir to the Earldom.’

‘And did you?’ Jane prompted huskily.

‘I did.’ He nodded. ‘I cast my eye uninterestedly over the rest of the debutants that Season and chose the one I believed would cause me the least inconvenience. Not a pretty tale, is it, Jane?’ he prompted self-disgustedly.

‘Not one you can be proud of—no, My Lord.’

He gave a brief, humourless laugh. ‘Now I know you are truly Janette’s daughter! She said exactly the same thing when I told her my reasons for having taken Beatrice as my wife,’ he explained, at Jane’s questioning look.

Jane nodded, already able to see where this tale was leading. Except she still wasn’t completely sure of the Earl’s role in Janette’s life. In her own life, perhaps…

The Earl sighed. ‘Gwendoline returned to Norfolk, and it was almost five years later when she made her appearance back in London Society as Lady Sulby, chaperon to her young sister-in-law.’ He looked grim. ‘I had been married for five years by this time, and had an infant son. I am not proud of what happened next, Jane.’ He shook his head. ‘But I—I took one look at Janette and knew myself well and truly lost! She was everything that was beautiful, Jane. With glorious red
hair and emerald-green eyes. Her vivacity, her joy in life, was contagious. I was drawn to her in a way I had never experienced before. And, miraculously, she felt the same attraction. Oh, we tried for weeks to deny how we felt about each other, to fight our attraction, but it was impossible. Every time we met the attraction, the love, became more intense. We were like two halves of a whole suddenly come together, and to deny that connection was—We could not, Jane.’ He groaned. ‘The two of us became lovers—’