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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 allthe 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?ThatEarl 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 theEarl of Hawkeis 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 yousawhim? Really, miss, it’s terribly unfair that all the most delightful things should always happen toyou.”
“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, therewasone 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 theton, 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.