Page 3 of The Earl That Got Away (Sirens in Silk #2)

Chapter Three

Now

England

N aila was so changed that Hawk barely recognized her.

The sparkle was absent from her midnight eyes, the blush long gone from her cheeks. This version of Naila Darwish, with her terse mouth and sallow complexion, possessed none of the radiance of the bold, orange gown–wearing beauty who had captivated him in Philadelphia.

This Naila cloaked herself in a drab dark gown that the girl he’d known would never be caught dead in.

Despite the unflattering dress, he still got a sense of the lavish body he’d worshipped.

Naila possessed curves that went on forever, with abundant breasts and swaying hips that made a man weak in the knees.

And hard in other places.

Yet, she wasn’t the same. This Naila was drained of all vivacity. She was almost lifeless, so quiet and bland that she easily blended into the background. His Naila could never be a wallflower. Without even trying, she outshone every person in the room.

A part of Hawk, the less charitable, more aggrieved part—the place in his soul that still resented her decision—felt a pang of satisfaction. By the looks of it, Naila had done Hawk a favor, her abandonment sparing him a lifetime chained to a colorless mouse.

“I do wish Naila had danced with you,” Raya said.

“Hmm?” Hawk glanced down at his dance partner, so lost in thought he almost forgot he’d escorted Naila’s sister to the dance floor. “Ah, yes.”

“She is an excellent dancer.”

“Is that so?” he murmured politely, smoothly guiding Raya along the crowded dance floor.

Hawk possessed firsthand knowledge of Naila’s dancing skills.

They’d waltzed once at a party hosted by his uncle in America.

He could still feel the soft curve of her back where he’d held her. His fingers tingled at the memory.

“Oh, yes, but she rarely dances now.”

“Why is that?” Hawk hated himself for wanting to know. Was it because Naila was miserable without him? Did she miss Hawk as much as he missed her? Used to miss her. Any feelings he once had for Naila Darwish were in the past.

They had to be.

There was a time when he’d have done anything for her. Before he inherited the earldom, he had nothing to offer but himself and his determination to make something of his future. But that hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been enough.

“I don’t really know why Naila doesn’t like to dance anymore,” Raya admitted. “I am surprised that you and my sister are previously acquainted. How did you meet?”

“Through mutual family friends in Philadelphia. I was contemplating taking over my uncle’s manufacturing concern. He has no children.”

“A business?” Surprise lit her eyes. He noticed they weren’t as dark as Naila’s. And nowhere near as mesmerizing. “But you’re an earl.”

“Quite by accident.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “How does one accidentally fall into an earldom?”

“I inherited from my father’s cousin.” Hawk was not well acquainted with his friend’s future wife, having met the woman only a handful of times. But he appreciated her directness. “He and his three sons all perished together in a boating accident.”

“How perfectly awful!”

“A terrible tragedy that meant the title fell to me.”

“That must have been quite a shock.”

“It was. But it was my duty to step up and lead the family.” There’d been a lot to learn, but Hawk welcomed the distraction. He might not have survived Naila’s desertion otherwise. She’d stolen not only his heart, but also his honor and all of his hopes and expectations for the future.

“Is it not also your duty to take a wife?” Amusement glinted in her gaze. “There seem to be plenty of women here who would be delighted to help you fulfill that obligation.”

He briefly wondered if Naila had mentioned him to her sister, but immediately dismissed the notion. Raya hadn’t even known Hawk and Naila were acquainted until this evening. That’s how little he meant to Naila. He was likely just a glancing memory.

Raya surveyed the crowded dance floor. “Every young unmarried lady is staring at us right now.”

“What of your sister?” He strived to keep a note of general disinterest in his voice. “Now that you are betrothed, I imagine she will think of marriage.”

“Naila? Who knows? She’s had offers, but she rejected all of them.”

“Is that so?” Maybe she made a habit of rebuffing suitors. Who else had she sent away?

“Naila is far more interested in old buildings than new suitors,” Raya said. “Once she sees to our nephew, she’ll probably sneak off to explore the castle. My sister is enthralled by architecture.”

“Still?” Memories of long strolls with Naila, exploring the structures in various Philadelphia neighborhoods, jolted through him.

“You know that about Naila?” She contemplated him. “Just how well acquainted were the two of you?”

“Not very.” He cursed to himself. The last thing he needed was gossip that tied him to Naila. Pivoting, he offered up a tempting distraction. “I am, as it happens, in search of a wife.”

Interest glinted her gaze. “What sort of woman would you like for a countess?”

“Why do you ask?” An image of Naila, as she’d once been, vibrant and laughing, fearless and daring, popped into his head. “Do you have someone in mind?”

“I won’t know until you tell me what qualities you require in a wife.”

“Very well,” he said. “Above all, she must be of firm character.”

“A man who appreciates a woman who knows her own mind?” she said approvingly. “That is rare.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“On that we agree.” They took another twirl. “I suppose she has to be an aristocrat.”

“It might be easier to adjust to her role as countess if she is. But that’s not an absolute requirement. What I absolutely abhor is a woman who shrinks away from difficult decisions.”

She smiled. “I shall be on the lookout for an appropriately strong-minded woman.”

“I’d be much obliged.” If she offered up her sister, maybe he would do the rejecting this time.

“If word gets out that you are looking for a bride, it will be a favored topic of conversation in the fortnight leading up to the wedding.”

“Surely not.” He made a show of frowning even as relief flowed through him. His acquaintanceship with her sister now seemed like the last thing on Raya’s mind.

Naila studied herself in the full-length mirror. “Are the upper sleeves too puffy?”

“No, that’s considered the style.” Nadine bit into an apple. “Since when do you care about fashion?”

Since seeing Inglese again. Even though his obvious disdain for her during their brief encounter was as thick as the fog that engulfed the castle most mornings.

“Naila always looks polished.” Raya lounged across the bed in the guest chamber assigned to Naila. “The orange color of that gown flatters your complexion.”

Naila ran a hand over her cheek. “Do you think so?” Her skin was duller than it used to be, her eyes even seemed smaller. What did Inglese see when he looked at her now?

Nadine slumped comfortably in a faded stuffed chair by the unlit hearth. “Since when do you wear bright colors?”

Naila turned, examining her reflection over her shoulder to see how she looked from the back. “Since Mama and I went to the dressmaker before this trip and she insisted I add some color.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, Mama’s right,” Raya said. “Vivid colors brighten your face.”

“That’s true,” Nadine said between mouthfuls of apple. “All you wear is brown, gray, white and black. Entirely boring .”

“I like muted tones,” Naila protested. She reached for a set of gold hairpins her mother had purchased for her and clipped one into her hair. Too showy. She pulled it out.

“You used to wear bright colors all the time,” Raya pointed out. “I remember when orange was your favorite color.”

“It was tangerine . Anyhow, people’s tastes change.” Rainbow colors made Naila feel like an impostor now. They were a reminder of a braver way of living. Of a time when she’d been happy and full of hope for the future. She hadn’t married Inglese, but she’d mourned the loss of him as a widow might.

“Those gold hairpins are pretty,” Nadine said. “Mama should have bought me a pair too. I am a married woman. I need to look respectable.”

Naila faced her sisters. “Should I wear this dress to supper or the blue gown that I tried on before?”

“I like the blue,” Nadine said.

“Orange,” Raya said at the same time. “Mama would insist on the orange. The brighter the better.”

“Well, she’s not here,” Naila responded. Their mother rarely left Brooklyn. She’d been plagued by debilitating seasickness during her immigrant voyage from Palestine to New York Harbor nearly three decades ago.

Naila had placated Mama by having the colorful gowns made for her, but she never intended to wear them in England. Yet, after seeing Basil again, a part of her yearned to be more like the version of herself that had once besotted him.

“Raya, did the duke say anything about how gracefully I dance?” Nadine never went long before bringing the conversation back to herself. “He told me he enjoyed our waltz immensely.”

“No.” Raya’s amused glance met Naila’s in the mirror. “But I am sure he was impressed.”

“This old castle is so drafty.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Nadine shivered and gazed at the barren hearth. “Why aren’t the fires running?”

“Put a shawl on,” Raya advised. “We can’t light every fire all day long. We must economize.”

Nadine grimaced. “What good is it to inherit a castle if you’re cold all the time?”

“I’m not cold,” Naila said in solidarity with Raya.

Nadine changed the subject. “Raya, how was dancing with the earl?”

Naila pivoted to face Raya. “You danced with Ba . . . um . . . the earl?”

Nadine tossed her apple core aside. “Hawksworth is handsome in a meanish sort of way. That persistent scowl makes him look like he’s about to tear someone’s head off.”

“Hawk was very polite when I danced with him, but he seemed preoccupied.” Raya rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. “He says he’s looking for a wife.”