Chapter 6
What am I doing with Rory Belmont? Hank grazed the straight razor along his jaw in the communal bathroom at the Roadside Inn where he always stayed when in D.C. Pritchard was still snoring away back in their room. He’d hardly slept a wink.
And yet, here Hank was, getting cleaned up for breakfast with Her Highness as if he had any hope of…
of what? Did he think he was going to charm her into bed?
Did he think he was going to woo her? Ridiculous.
He shouldn’t get anywhere near her, but for some reason, she kept showing up, and he couldn’t bring himself to stay away.
Something about seeing her shaken and vulnerable last night made it all the worse.
Her veneer slipped, and he caught a glimpse of the woman beneath.
The sight made him ache in ways he didn’t think possible.
And so, he kept flying toward her flame, knowing full well he would burn in the end.
Showered, shaved, and as ready as he could be, he donned his uniform jacket despite the heat. It was the most formal garment he had with him, and that hotel he dropped her off at last night looked all kinds of hoity-toity.
He just hoped that fiancé of hers stayed away. There was no telling what Hank would do if the senator made an appearance.
Why would a man ever want to cheat on Rory Belmont? It was clear enough what they were arguing about without hearing the words, given the way Edward had been looking at the singer. Even after a good night’s sleep, Hank was still simmering with outrage on her behalf.
He’d had to straighten out more than one of his sister, Kate’s, beaus when they didn’t treat her with the proper respect.
He couldn’t punch a senator, but last night he’d been sorely tempted.
No wonder she was sneaking into hangars in the middle of the night, seducing unsuspecting pilots if this was how her fiancé treated her.
She deserved someone that worshiped the ground she walked on, someone who would never even think of straying.
Already sweating beneath his jacket, he caught a cab to the Hotel Monaco. In the darkness last night, he hadn’t fully appreciated its grandeur. This morning, as he walked up the red-carpeted steps, glimpsing the ornate columns, he wondered yet again what he’d gotten himself into.
A concierge intercepted him as he walked in. “Excuse me, sir. May I be of assistance?” The man seemed to be quite adept at blocking Hank’s progress while appearing polite and solicitous. Uniform or no, he stuck out like a sore thumb in this swanky joint.
“Yes, I’m meeting Miss Aurora Belmont for breakfast.”
The man’s eyes widened.
“I see. May I have your name?”
“Hank Hawley.”
“If you would wait right here,” the concierge said as he whisked off to parts unknown. Hank stood to the side and looked around at the understated opulence of the hotel lobby—all dark wood and hunter-green walls with matching drapes in neat, scalloped folds.
He got a few sideways glances from the well-dressed hotel patrons and ignored them. He had as much right to be here as anyone.
The concierge returned with Rory trailing after.
“Hank, I’m so glad you came,” she enthused as the concierge looked abashed.
“You mustn’t blame him for being cautious,” she said, gesturing toward the concierge.
“I asked him to warn me if anyone came looking for me in case Edward decided he needed to cure my hysteria sooner rather than later.”
“Good. I didn’t care for how he treated you yesterday.” In fact, he’d gotten quite a bit of satisfaction imagining running the man through with a sword. Sadly, the days of sword duels were long gone, but a man could dream.
“Come. Sit. I’d rather not talk where everyone in the lobby can hear,” she said quietly, directing him to an elegant table at the hotel’s restaurant laid out with a wide assortment of baked goods. He pulled out her chair, then went around to his own.
As soon as they were seated, a waiter came by. “Would you prefer coffee or tea, sir?”
“Coffee, please.”
“Do you take anything with your coffee?”
Hank tried not to laugh, thinking of the sad coffee pots at the hangars with no cream or sugar. “No, thank you. Black is fine for me.”
As soon as the waiter was gone, Rory said, “I knew you’d be a coffee man.”
“Tea tastes like water. Dark and bitter suits me better.” He ate a raspberry scone in three bites.
“Oh? Are you dark and bitter?” she asked with a mocking smile.
“I’m not weak tea.”
Her smile spread. By God, she was gorgeous.
“So,” he said, picking up the coffee that just arrived and taking a sip. “You asked me to come, and here I am. Why am I here?”
“Because I like you, Hank. You don’t bore me.”
He took another sip of coffee and watched her.
Damn good coffee. Not a hint of gasoline.
“I like you too. And you are anything but boring. But I’ll ask you again.
Why am I here? A woman like you has no business spending time with a man like me.
And you still have a fiancé, a senator no less.
Whatever it is you want, I can’t help thinking it will end poorly for me. ”
“Really, Hank,” she said, waving a croissant. “You make it sound like I’m plotting your demise when all I really want is to—”
She was interrupted by a commotion at the door. The senator came barging in, shoving past a very flustered concierge. He stopped abruptly on seeing Hank.
“Jesus, Aurora,” Edward whispered harshly.
“I came here to apologize, but here you are with your lover, having breakfast for the whole world to see. Did you just pick up the first man at the bar to offer you a drink? Is this your idea of revenge? Last night, you sure as hell seemed to disapprove of this sort of thing, but here you are, sitting with this trash like he belongs here. Do you have no sense of decency?”
Hank turned to Rory and raised an eyebrow. This was exactly what he feared. Shaking his head, he exhaled. He walked right into this like an idiot.
“He’s not my lover, Edward. You’re making a scene,” she said under her breath.
“He was at the club last night, and now he’s eating breakfast with you in your hotel. You expect me to believe you didn’t spend the night with him?” The senator leaned on the back of an empty chair, looming over them both.
“Yes, I expect you to believe it. Ask the hotel staff if you don’t believe me. He arrived fifteen minutes ago. He works at my father’s airfield. I spoke with him briefly after you left the club last night, and I asked him to meet me here this morning.”
Heads were starting to turn. The dozen or so other patrons nibbling on their morning croissants couldn’t help but be drawn into the drama. People were alike that way. No one could resist ogling a train wreck.
Turning on Hank, the senator said in an undertone, “Leave. I don’t ever want to see your face again.”
Rory’s hand shot out to restrain Hank. It was unnecessary. He had no intention of leaving her alone with him.
“I’m not the uninvited guest,” Hank countered calmly, meeting the senator’s gaze. “If anyone should be leaving, it’s you, sir.”
The senator’s eyes narrowed. “If we weren’t in public, I’d punch your smug face.”
“And I’d make you regret it.” He smiled. The senator was fit for his age, but he was no match for Hank in a fight, and they both knew it. “I’ll thank you to leave Miss Belmont alone and leave us to our breakfast, Senator.” He popped a bite-sized pastry in his mouth.
If he didn’t know what trouble he was getting himself into, Hank would be enjoying himself. Maybe he was, despite the trouble.
The middle-aged woman at the next table stopped pretending to drink her tea and propped her chin on her hand, leaning in.
Turning back to Rory, the senator said, “For God’s sake, we’re supposed to be getting married in a month.”
“Obviously, that’s not going to happen.”
The senator’s eyes went wide. “No. You can’t do that. The wedding has to go forward. If you won’t let me talk some sense into you, I’ll go see your father. He’ll know what to do to get you to behave. He won’t think much of the company you’re keeping,” he said, glancing at Hank.
“Don’t treat me like a child,” Rory answered. “If this is you apologizing, you need to review the definition of the word.”
“I’m sorry, Aurora. I handled last night poorly.”
“Have you broken things off with her?”
Hank watched the senator closely. His face turned bright red, and his mouth opened and closed several times before he said. “You’re completely missing the point. I’m saying I’m sorry.”
“Leave, Edward,” she said. “Go speak to my father if you wish. We’re done here.” She slid the sparkling diamond engagement ring off and put it down on the table in front of the senator.
The woman at the next table’s eyes went wide, and she pressed her hand to her mouth.
The senator stood and loomed over Rory. “Now see here, I—”
Hank stood and wedged himself between Rory and the senator. “She asked you to leave.”
Standing tall, Hank had several inches on Edward and was considerably more muscular.
The senator huffed. “I don’t know who you are, you scurf, but I intend to find out. And I will make you sorry you ever came within a mile of Miss Belmont.” Grabbing the ring, he turned and left.
Hank sat down again and looked at Rory. She shuddered, and something inside him clenched at the sight. He hated seeing her hurt like this, even if it was none of his business.
She sat silently, looking in the direction the senator departed, then turned her attention back on Hank.
“I’m so sorry. I admit I wanted you here for moral support in case he showed up, and maybe I wanted to make him a little jealous.
But I never thought he would jump to such absurd conclusions.
Now I’m worried he really will make trouble for you. ”
“Princess, you let me worry about me. What’s the worst he could do?”
“He’s smart and powerful. I’m sure he’ll come up with something.”
Hank shrugged. “I have nothing to lose, as he’ll find out if he comes after me.”
“That can’t be true.” Rory’s brows furrowed adorably.
Averting his gaze to his plate, he said, “I have a job that’s trying to kill me and a patch of dirt back home in Michigan nobody in their right mind would want. He wants to take away either of those, he’d be doing me a favor.”
“But you love flying,” she said, putting her hand on his. He forced himself to think of icy locales. The Arctic. The Himalayas. Siberia. Lord, this woman. He let out his breath slowly, glad that a tablecloth hid his reaction to her touch.
“He can’t stop me from flying. Worst he could do is send me back to the front, and I’d rather be there fighting than here delivering birthday cards anyway.”
She squeezed his hand. He was going to need some time to compose himself before standing up from this table.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. And I’m sorry about him.”
“What will your father do?” An image of Major Belmont with a shotgun flashed through his mind yet again. Damn that dream.
“He’ll lecture me, possibly threaten to disown me if I don’t go through with the wedding.”
“Would he really disown you?”
She shrugged. “Possibly. He’s threatened it before.
When I got caught kissing a gardener at the Astor’s, he nearly disowned me on the spot.
Had Mrs. Astor not promised to hush the whole thing up, he probably would have.
There’s a part of me that wouldn’t mind if he did.
I could get a job as a teacher or a shop girl and live on my own for the first time in my life. It could be quite liberating.”
Hank laughed. Imagine Rory Belmont working as a shop girl.
Even he could offer her a better life than that.
If he was the marrying sort, that was. But no woman in her right mind would want to hitch herself to a man that took the risks he did.
And besides, high-society ladies didn’t marry nobodies like him.
“Really, it would!” She could probably see the skepticism written on his face.
“The day you become a shop girl is the day I become the king of England.” He popped another tiny pastry in his mouth.
“Very funny. Now let’s get back to the other reason why I asked you here,” she said, a devious look on her face. “You still owe me a flight.”
He chuckled. “How do you figure?”
“You didn’t give me one last week at the airfield.” She leaned forward, her eyes full of enthusiasm. It was all he could do not to claim her lips right then and there.
“No, I did not. Nor did I offer to.”
“Details,” she said brushing his statement away with an elegant hand. “Take me today. It would cheer me up.”
“Not on your life, princess. Do you know how dangerous airplanes are? It’s not for nothing they’ve nicknamed the airmail operation ‘Uncle Sam’s Suicide Club.’”
She leaned back, folding her arms. “Don’t be a bore, Hank.
I’m only asking for a short flight. Just up and then down again, a taste of freedom above the clouds and then we come back to earth safe and sound.
I’ve ridden in an airplane once before and nothing terrible happened, and I’ve seen what a skilled and capable pilot you are.
I’m certain you’ll bring me back in one piece. Please?” She touched his arm again.
It was a bad idea, a terrible idea, but with her hand on his arm, his resistance was crumbling.
That senator was really a piece of work, and Hank wanted to do something to cheer her up.
Nobody deserved to be treated like that.
The urge to whisk her away from all her troubles and do whatever it took to drive away the sadness behind her smile was almost irresistible.
And he knew better than anyone what a tonic it was to leave the world behind and soar up in the clouds.
“All right. One quick flight. Just up and down, like you said. I’m only agreeing because you had a very bad morning, and I feel sorry for you.”
She clapped her hands together and grinned.
“Meet me at the airstrip at Polo Field in an hour, and I’ll take you up,” he said, brushing himself off and putting down his napkin. Fortunately, the prospect of being responsible for her safety in his aircraft deflated any other thoughts that had been stirring.
Kissing her hand, he took his leave and headed straight to the airstrip to get a plane ready.
He’d have to repair one of the broken ones.
Delaying the mail for her entertainment was not an option.
Fortunately, he knew how to take apart a Jenny and put her back together in his sleep.
He’d have one up and running in no time.
She never did answer his question, he realized as he paid the cab driver. He still had no idea what she might want from him. He only knew what he wanted from her, and that was as impossible as flying to the moon.