Chapter 2
Helena wandered up the drive toward the castle in Lord Hawke’s wake, her pockets filled with prickly bunches of glossy green mistletoe, her head still ringing from the wicked curses that had just spilled from his lordship’s lips into her unsuspecting ears.
Such a prodigious quantity of them, and in such quick succession, too!
He was a bit, er…well, she’d been expecting someone a trifle more…that is, the rumors she’d heard of him hadn’t been to his credit, certainly, but she hadn’t imagined he’d be quite so…
Oh, for pity’s sake. There was no sense dancing about it.
He was a perfect beast. Growly, ill-tempered, rude, and unforgivably arrogant for a man without a hat, a cravat, or a decent pair of boots.
Didn’t employ a governess, indeed! It was as plain as day he hadn’t the vaguest idea who she was. Even after she’d told him her name, he’d merely stared blankly at her, as if he’d never heard of such a thing as a governess before.
On the bright side, he didn’t seem to have heard of a Templeton sister, either, which was fortunate, indeed, given all the gossip about them and their allegedly magical matchmaking schemes.
But really, did Lord Hawke imagine his six-year-old sons cared for themselves? Or had he forgotten them entirely? One didn’t like to think any father could be capable of such a thing, but she’d been the governess here for six months, and this was the first time she’d ever laid eyes on Lord Hawke.
He was not, alas, a shining example of paternal devotion.
She threw open one of the massive, iron-studded double doors that led into the castle with a bit more force than necessary, and hurried through the entryway and downstairs into the kitchens. “Good morning, Abby.”
Abigail Hurley, the castle’s kitchen maid was seated at the table, reading over cook’s notes from a scrap of paper, a tiny silver kitten perched on her shoulder. She looked up with a smile as Helena entered. “Morning, miss.”
Helena passed through the kitchen into the stillroom beyond, unloaded the contents of her pockets into a basket waiting on the end of the long work table, then returned to the kitchen, pausing in front of the fire to rub the chill from her hands.
“So, Abby. What can you tell me about the Earl of Hawke?”
Abby didn’t look up from her note. “What, you mean our mysterious employer? That Earl of Hawke?”
“Not so mysterious anymore.” Helena set the kettle on the stove to boil. “He’s returned to Hawke’s Run. I saw him myself just now, coming up the drive.”
Abby’s head jerked up, her eyes bulging. “The Earl of Hawke! What, you mean to say the Earl of Hawke is here?”
“Is there another earl I’m not aware of?” Goodness, she hoped not. A single earl was more than enough for one morning, and the Earl of Hawke enough for an entire lifetime.
“Nay, miss, it’s just…his lordship, here?” Abby leapt up, wincing as the kitten hung on, digging its claws into her shoulder. “I beg your pardon, Hestia, but Lord Hawke’s return is the most exciting thing that’s happened in Hawke’s Run since…well, ever.”
“Give Hestia here.” Helena held out her hands for the kitten.
Abby disentangled Hestia, pressed an absent kiss on the kitten’s fluffy head, then handed her over. “That must be why Mrs. Norris just flew out of here like her hair was on fire.”
“Likely as not. I daresay Lord Hawke summoned her.” He didn’t seem like the patient sort, either.
“And you say you saw him? Really, miss, it’s terribly unfair that all the most delightful things should always happen to you.”
“It wasn’t delightful in the least, Abby. I was stuck in that enormous alder tree at the time, and—”
“Oh, dear. Your hair again?”
“Yes, it snagged on the branches. Lord Hawke was obliged to climb up and untangle me, and I assure you, he wasn’t at all pleased about it. Then he accused me of stealing his mistletoe, of all absurd things.”
Abby let out a dreamy sigh, as if she hadn’t heard a word Helena had just said. “My goodness, Lord Hawke. He’s terribly fashionable, you know. Quite the gentleman about town, or so my sister in London says. He’s meant to be terribly handsome. How did he look?”
He was a handsome man, certainly, but not a happy one, with that grim cast to his mouth.
He did have handsome green eyes, if one overlooked how bloodshot they were.
“I don’t like to disillusion you, Abby, but he looked dreadful.
Like a fox who’d been mauled by a pack of hunting dogs.
” It wasn’t a kind thing to say, but he’d threatened to leave her stuck up the tree, for pity’s sake.
“He smelled even worse,” she added, for good measure.
“Smelled?” Abby leapt to her feet, wringing her hands over this distressing detail. “But…but he’s an earl!”
Oh, dear. He was, indeed, and her was their employer, too. She cast about for something positive to say, but the only thing he excelled at was cursing. No, wait, there was one other thing. “He’s an excellent climber. Really, the most accomplished climber, Abby.”
But Abby didn’t give a fig about climbing. She glanced toward the door, and lowered her voice. “What, ah…what did he smell of?”
“Cheroots, sour brandy, and courtesans. I daresay he came straight from London, from an infamous debauchery. He was missing his hat, his cravat, and one of his boots, too.” It was wicked of her to gossip, but she took a perverse delight in the absurd, and a foul-smelling lord was as absurd a thing as they were likely to find in Hawke’s Run.
“My goodness. A half-naked, rancid earl!” Abby dropped back onto her chair, overcome. “You have the most extraordinary luck, Miss Templeton.”
“Well, he’s here now. Perhaps you’ll have the great good fortune to get a whiff of him yourself soon. Until then…” She hesitated, eying her young friend.
Abby was three years younger than she was, and she’d never set foot outside of Hawke’s Run, but if anyone could discover the truth behind Lord Hawke’s sudden appearance here, it was Abby.
For all that she’d never been to London, Abby knew more about what was passing in town than many of the people who lived there.
She had a voracious appetite for scandal, particularly scandal featuring fashionable members of the ton, and she was kept well supplied with gossip by her sister Penelope, who had a position as a housemaid in one of the grand London houses.
Helena didn’t quite approve of Abby’s obsession with tittle-tattle, but in this case, Abby’s knowledge of London’s most notorious aristocrats could prove useful.
“Lord Hawke looked as if he left London in a hurry, Abby. There must be more to his appearance here this morning than a sudden desire to come home, don’t you think? ”
“Oh, there’s doings afoot, miss, and nothing good, neither.
There’s a scandal behind it, to be sure.
Not Lord Hawke’s first, either, but he’s such a favorite with the ton they tend to forgive him his sins.
” Abby tapped her lip, thinking. “Still, whatever he’s done this time must be awful, indeed, if he’s left London. ”
Helena bit her lip. She didn’t like to encourage scandalmongering, but his presence here was certain to agitate the boys.
It was rare for a single day to pass without Ryan and Etienne asking after him, and she’d rather know beforehand if he intended to vanish as suddenly as he’d appeared.
Surely, that made it an exception? “Will you write to your sister in London, and find out what’s behind it? ”
“I won’t have to.” Abby reached around her to grab the teapot, a sly grin on her lips. “If it’s as shocking as I suspect, she’ll have already written to me. Mark my words, miss. Whatever mischief his lordship’s been up to, we’ll know what it is before the week is out.”
“Thank you, Abby. Now, let’s see to the boy’s chocolate, shall we? They’ll wake soon, and I’d rather they weren’t obliged to scamper about searching for me.”
She’d learned the hard way the mischief two energetic boys could get into if left to their own devices in an old, empty castle like this one.
The last time she’d been late coming to their bedchamber in the morning, she’d been obliged to spend hours searching for them, only to find them teetering atop a dusty ladder in the attic, plucking spiders from the rafters and depositing them in old canning jars so they might “train them up for a spider circus.”
“I may as well.” Abby let out a theatrical sigh and reached into a cupboard for the block of chocolate. “I suppose preparing the chocolate is the most interesting thing that’s ever going to happen to me—”
“Oh, here you are, Miss Templeton.” A breathless Mrs. Norris hurried into the kitchen, her wispy gray hair flying about her head. “I’m certain Abby must have told you Lord Hawke has arrived unexpectedly at Hawke’s Run this morning. Dear me, I’m rather aflutter, I’m afraid!”
“Yes, she told me, Mrs. Norris, and I saw his lordship coming up the drive.” This time, Helena held her tongue about the stench of brandy and courtesans. The less said about that the better.
“I’ve left Lord Hawke in his study,” Mrs. Norris said. “He has not yet summoned Ryan and Etienne, and perhaps it would be best, Miss Templeton, if you kept them away from that part of the house until he’s prepared to see them. His lordship is rather…fatigued from his journey.”
Helena smothered a snort. Fatigued, indeed. Lord Hawke’s trouble was that last night’s debauchery had caught up to him this morning, and he was as disagreeable as gentlemen generally were under such circumstances.
Mrs. Norris needn’t have worried, however, as she’d happily keep the boys as far as possible away from their father, and for as long as she could possibly manage it.
It shouldn’t prove too difficult. If the past six months were any indication, Lord Hawke had little enough interest in his sons as it was.