Betrayal?
Life in the British Service had in effect once saved him, giving purpose and family to two young boys left without either. With their parents gone, Daniel and he had been rudderless until the steady sure hand of responsibility and duty had guided them on to a path which was significant and worthy. Such initial fealty now caused Hawk’s conscience to burn, yet beneath, another need blazed brighter.
Aye, betrayal came in many forms.
That thought made Stephen look up. If he didn’t change, he would die. Soon. Like his brother, disappearing into the hazy and shadowed world of espionage.
Today in the company of Aurelia St Harlow he had been honest, a chance taken without thought of recompense or reprisals. He had told her exactly what he thought lay between them and he had seen the answering flicker in her eyes—an unconstrained candour budding like green leaves from a bare and frozen branch in the first days of spring. New life. New hope in the peace of truth.
Outside, a shooting star fell from the heavens and for the first time since Stephen was a child he took a moment to wish upon it.
When he called upon Nat and Cassie two days later Aurelia St Harlow and her sister Leonora Beauchamp were ensconced in the small blue downstairs salon with Cassandra and her oldest sister, Maureen. Lady Delamont, the St Auburns’ London neighbour, was also in attendance, a surprising fact given that Aurelia’s reputation was hardly salubrious.
‘Stephen.’ Cassie crossed the room and drew him in before he could escape. ‘Nathaniel said you might drop by and he instructed me to keep you here until he returned. Something about “a full and bodied brew”, he said, though goodness only knows what that might mean. You know Lady Delamont, of course, and you remember Mrs St Harlow and her sister Leonora Beauchamp from your ball the other evening. Maureen is up for a week to stay with me, too.’
‘Good afternoon, ladies.’
Leonora smiled at him and moved over, giving Stephen no choice but to find a seat in the middle of the sisters. Aurelia did not look at him.
‘I’m glad you have returned early from your journey north, Hawk,’ Cassie said, with the vestige of a question.
Lady Delamont laughed and joined in the conversation. ‘Lady Berkeley will be pleased, Hawk. The youngest Berkeley daughter is hoping to snare a husband before too long, I hear, and your name is amongst the mooted candidates for a dinner she has planned. A nice gal, Elizabeth, with good manners and a pleasing conversation. She will make someone a loyal and malleable wife.’
Somehow the words did not sound like praise and, chancing a quick look at Aurelia, Stephen saw how her hands had tightened on the velvet reticule in her lap.
‘Oh, Hawk’s name is on all the lists, Deborah.’ Cassandra swatted away the gossip easily and began to speak instead of the gowns she had particularly noticed at his ball. In the ensuing chatter Stephen was able to turn and speak privately to Aurelia for the first time. Today her hair had been tightly plaited so that the redness looked darker. A small pin embellished with a ceramic flower sat above her ear.
‘For a woman on society’s blacklist, you seem to be garnering a good number of invitations.’
Deliberation laced a small anger. ‘As soon as my sisters are paired off I am certain I shan’t get another one, my lord.’
‘If you throw off the black shroud you might be surprised, Mrs St Harlow. The swatch of scarlet I saw you holding the other day, for example, would suit you admirably.’
The look on her face was dubious. ‘Red against red, my lord?’
‘Too tempting?’ Stephen enjoyed the glint of confusion in her unusual eyes and, stretching out, he allowed his thigh to touch hers. She moved back as though she had been burned, leaving as much space between them as was possible, her left side plastered tightly against the armrest.
Her reaction was ridiculous. She knew that it was, but it was as though her body almost sizzled when he touched her. Please God that he might not have perceived her response, that he might not have noticed.
‘Your father is looking well, Mrs St Harlow.’ Lady Delamont leant across and spoke loudly. ‘I always thought it a great pity when your mother left him. Sylvienne was very like you to look at, my dear, with her red hair and that quiet air of caution. I hear she lives in Paris now?’
‘She does.’
‘Surrounded by luxury and various beaus, no doubt? She had every eligible suitor in London after her in the Season, an original with a brain to match. Do give her my regards next time you see her.’
‘I shall indeed, my lady.’
Aurelia’s smile felt as artificial as her words. the last time she had visited Mama, Sylvienne had clung to her like a child needing comfort, the high price of her numerous lovers scrawled in heavy payment across her face. Abandoned by society. When she had asked after Papa the undercurrents of regret could be clearly heard in her question.
Perhaps she and her mother were more alike than she thought. Her mama had chosen to leave the right man and she had chosen to stay with the wrong one.
Unlucky in love.
The tiny phrase clung in her mind and Aurelia took in breath. She could not afford to let her guard down and Stephen Hawkhurst wasn’t a man to be played with. He was dangerous and powerful and menacing. Even here, sitting still amongst a group of women she was aware of a thrumming authority, a man who had fought in wars and lived.
Aye, survival had a certain note of guilt that isolated one and made mockery of small concerns. It also brought a sadness that was palpable and haunting, the vestige of dark things that were never spoken of again.
Leonora’s laughter dragged her from her thoughts.
‘I should love to come, Lady Delamont, and I am certain my sister would, too.’ Aurelia’s heart sank. ‘A masked ball, Lia. What could be more exciting?’
‘The more, the merrier, Mrs St Harlow,’ the old lady continued, ‘and I have a roomful of masks collected over the years. If you should like to choose one with your sister I would be very pleased, for my late husband was a man who had a bent towards the absurd.’
‘I have already chosen Nat’s mask, Hawk.’
Aurelia heard the humour in Cassandra Lindsay’s voice even as Hawk shifted in his seat. He did not look like a man who would enjoy a masked ball at all.
‘Your husband used to favour these sorts of occasions, Mrs St Harlow.’ Cassandra’s sister spoke for the first time, her smile so sweet Aurelia knew she could not have meant insult.
‘Indeed, it seems that Charles enjoyed anything that was underpinned with joviality.’ At least Hawkhurst did not make the words sound like a compliment, which gave Aurelia a certain satisfaction.
Joviality. Her world spun for a moment as she was thrust back into her past, clinging to the hope that the man she had married might disappear into the air like a wisp of smoke.
Foolish, foolish choice.
The wedding band on her finger seemed to tighten of its own accord, like a noose, an uncompromising punishment that would always be with her.
She wished she was home, in her bedroom and away from the prying eyes of others, the talk of masked balls and happy times so very far away from all that she had known.
And endured.
‘I hope none of your other sisters have caught your father’s illness?’ Cassandra Lindsay commented and Aurelia shook her head. To say more under the circumstances would be more than deceitful given Hawk’s knowledge of the whole conundrum. Even Leonora looked a little abashed and there was an awkward silence that was filled as Lady Delamont sought advice about a certain plant for her garden which she had been unable to find.
The conversation gave Aurelia a little time to regather