Some Like It Sinful (Hellion's Den)




“Do you not see?” Clara turned back to her new friend, her expression fierce. “I am the very worst possible maiden to become Countess of Chadwick. I cannot even move among village society without having everyone laughing behind my back or, worse, seeking to avoid me altogether. Hawksley could not conceive of a better means of punishing his family than by having me as his wife.” She gave a slow shake of her head. “The insult could not be more obvious.”

Despite her evident logic, Anna frowned in bewilderment. “My dear, you cannot truly believe Hawksley’s only desire to wed you is with the intent to embarrass his family.”

Clara did not understand why Anna would appear so shocked. It was all perfectly plain as far as she was concerned. Hawksley had never made any secret of his bitterness toward his father. Or the fact that he wished nothing more than to forget his family even existed.

But the death of Fredrick had brought an end to his desires. He was now no longer the younger son who was allowed to go his own way. Instead he was the heir, and as such bound tightly to duty.

He could not escape his destiny.

But he could have his final revenge upon his father.

“What other reason could there be?” she demanded.

Anna gave a lift of her brows. “It could be that he truly cares for you.”

Clara flinched. If this woman knew how much she longed for Hawksley’s heart, she would not tease about such a thing.

“A gentleman who cared for me would not have lied.”

Without warning Anna gave a tinkling laugh. “Clearly you know very little of gentlemen.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gentlemen rarely behave as rational creatures, and only a woman who desires to end up in Bedlam would ever attempt to understand their feeble attempts at logic,” she retorted dryly. “And a gentleman in love is the very worst of all. The more ridiculously they behave, the more certain you can be that they are floundering in the throes of their own emotions.”

“Love?” Clara gave a sad shake of her head. “Ridiculous.”

“Why?”

Clara spread her hands in frustration. Anna seemed such an intelligent woman. Why did she pretend that it was even thinkable that a handsome, wealthy, and titled gentleman would find her genuinely desirable?

“Gentlemen do not fall in love with women such as me,” she gritted.

Anna slowly rose to her feet, her arms crossing over her waist.

“Oh no, what would any man want with a beautiful, intelligent lady who has managed to bring justice to the villain who killed his brother? Most unsuitable.”

Clara gave a shake of her head. “You could not possibly understand.”

“Actually, I understand perfectly. There was a time when I thought I should never find someone to appreciate me for who I am. My first season in London was nothing short of torture, and I assure you that I was most firmly condemned to the shadows as a wallflower.”

Clara frowned in bewilderment. This pretty, vivacious woman a wallflower? It seemed unthinkable.

“You?”

“Yes, me,” she assured the disbelieving Clara. “So you see, I know what it is to be considered an outsider. Still, as much as it made me wretched to be considered an outcast, it still would have been far easier to remain safely hidden in the shadows than to take the risk that someone could truly love me.” A whimsical smile touched her lips. “I have never regretted a moment putting my faith in Horatio. There are times when you must simply follow your heart.”

Clara could not prevent the small pang of envy as she gave a wry smile.

“Hardly the most sensible advice.”

Anna moved to place her hands on her shoulders. “You desire sensible? Very well. Do not make any decision while you are weary and still smarting from your feelings of betrayal. You have plenty of time to decide what you wish to do with your future.”

Clara hesitated. She could not deny that Anna’s words held merit. How often had she been astounded by those people who would rashly make decisions when in the throes of some strong emotion?

Logic demanded that she wait until she could clear her thoughts before leaping to a decision that might very well be irrevocable.

“You are right, of course,” she reluctantly agreed.

A mischievous twinkle entered Anna’s eyes. “My suggestion is not entirely without ulterior motives. I intend to fully enjoy the rare treat of having another lady in the house.”

“You are very kind.”

“Nonsense.” Leaning forward, Anna gave her a swift hug. “Get some rest, my dear. The world might seem a very different place in the morning.”





Chapter Twenty

As it turned out, the world did seem a far different place for the next several mornings. Never having had a sister or even a close female friend, Clara had no notion just how enjoyable it could be to devote her mornings to sipping her hot chocolate and discussing anything from the genius of Plato to fussing over which ribbons she was to tie in her hair.

Not that Hawksley was ever far from her thoughts, she had to ruefully acknowledge.

Too often she found herself turning to share something amusing with the man whom she had become accustomed to being at her side. Or awakening during the night to reach for warm arms that were not there.

And too often she found herself brooding upon whether or not she had been overly hasty in presuming his intentions had been dishonorable.

Certainly he had hidden the truth of his past, but did she have any genuine proof that he was only hoping to use her as an affront to his father?

Anything beyond her own fear that no gentleman of sense could ever love her?

At last convinced that she was prepared to confront Hawksley and discover the truth for herself, Clara deliberately arranged herself in the back parlor after luncheon.

She knew that Hawksley would call. He had called every day, although she had always refused to meet with him.

Today, however, she made no move to hide herself in her chambers when she heard him announced. Instead she kept herself firmly seated upon the delicate rose sofa, even when a large, heartbreakingly familiar form filled the doorway.

“Clara?”

Slowly lifting her gaze, Clara was shocked by the unmistakable pallor of the handsome countenance and the shadows beneath his beautiful eyes.

Her heart clenched in swift concern. He did not look at all well.

“Hawksley.”

He paused awkwardly before clearing his throat. “May I join you?”

“I . . .” She gave a nod of her head. “If you wish.”

Still with that same odd hesitation, he crossed over the threshold and moved to stand before the fireplace.

“You appear to have recovered from your ordeal,” he at last broke the silence.

An unwitting smile touched her lips. “Yes, Anna has been very kind.”

“She is a very good sort.” His own smile was wry. “Far too good for the likes of Biddles.”

“They are very devoted to one another.”

“Indeed they are.” An aching loneliness that struck Clara like a blow darkened his eyes. “I envy Biddles for that.”

Abruptly rising to her feet, Clara barely kept herself from launching across the floor to hold him in her arms. Blast, but he seemed so . . . vulnerable. Almost as if he had been suffering as much as she had by being apart.

Instead she wrapped her arms about her waist and fought for a measure of sanity.

“Have Lord Doulton and Mr. Chesterfield been properly dealt with?”

His features abruptly hardened. “Both have decided they are quite anxious to seek the adventures offered by the distant colonies.”

Alexandra Ivy's books