The Duke by Foley Gaelen

Author:Foley, Gaelen [Foley, Gaelen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-02-05T16:17:47+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

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A short while later Hawk waited impatiently while Knowles, his valet, put the final touches on his cravat. All the while he argued with his conscience over why he should not pay off the rest of Alfred Hamilton’s debt and see the old fool out of jail. The more he came to care about Belinda, the more he wanted to help her in every possible way.

On the one hand, fulfilling her father’s debts would have endeared him to her indefinitely, he knew, but the prospect carried serious risks. She had signed their agreement pledging her help, but how could he be sure she would not quit his company and abandon his scheme to snare Dolph the moment she no longer needed the money to free her father? Was it wise to make a gesture that would so openly admit how deeply attached to her he was growing? Moreover, he feared that if he paid off her father’s debts, it would set a risky precedent that anytime she got into a scrape, never fear, Hawkscliffe and his millions would bail her out.

Lastly, and perhaps most seriously, if old Hamilton learned of his daughter’s true profession, he might come to his senses and play the outraged papa, dragging her away from Hawk. With that realization he violently brushed off the idea of getting Alfred out of jail. No one was going to take that girl away from him.

“Very good, Your Grace,” his valet said after a last firm adjustment to the white silk knot, then added slyly, “That should catch her eye.”

Hawk raised an eyebrow at him.

Knowles politely masked his amusement and bowed. “A splendid evening to you, sir.”

“Why, thank you, Knowles. I do look rather smart, don’t I?” he added with a grin, then strode out of his chambers and jogged downstairs to wait for Belinda.

Descending the gliding curve of the staircase, Hawk heard a very strange sound, one he knew well but had not heard in decades: children’s laughter. Indeed—with a particular note of mischief in it. What the devil?

The second the marble entrance hall came into view, he paused and squinted, sure his eyes were playing tricks on him. There, beneath the chandelier, two small boys were exploring the ancient suit of parade armor that had been given to an ancestor of his by Henry VIII. They were plucking at the jewels and running their grubby fingers along the dulled blade of the gleaming broadsword.

“Ooo, wow . . .”

“Look, this could kill someone!”

“Ahem,” said Hawk.

Both children shrieked and whipped around, slamming together as Hawk lifted his chin, clasped his hands loosely behind his back, and proceeded the rest of the way down, eyeing them in displeasure. Probably relations of one of his servants, he thought.

“Pray, gentlemen, that is not to be touched. It is very old. What are you doing out of the servants’ quarters?”

They didn’t answer, staring up at him in awe. Their eyes were huge as he came to stand before them.

Folding his arms over his chest, he towered over them, glanced at the armor, and frowned.

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