Page 33 of The Earl That Got Away (Sirens in Silk #2)
Chapter Twenty-Six
One year later
London
N aila was strolling along Piccadilly when she bumped into Guy Vaughan coming out of the Fortnum & Mason department store.
“Miss Darwish! The lady makes a triumphant return. Welcome back to London.” He tipped his hat, looking dapper in a dark calf-length frock coat over a colorful patterned waistcoat. “What has it been? A year since you last graced us with your presence?”
“Mr. Vaughan, how nice to see you.” It was Naila’s first time encountering someone she’d met during her last trip to England, which felt like a lifetime ago. “Yes, it’s been a little over a year since I was last here.”
“You are in my neighborhood,” he told her. “I keep apartments at the Albany just there across the street.” He pointed in the direction of a handsome brick Georgian structure set back from the main road. “ You are the true surprise. Your pamphlet is the talk of London.”
“Have I created a scandal?” she asked with an amused smile. “Will high society forever shun me?”
“Far from it! The sister of a duchess who has authored the much-talked-about publication of the year is sure to be the most sought-after guest in Mayfair’s finest drawing rooms.”
“Surely not.” Naila still found it hard to believe that so many people knew who she was. After relegating herself to the background for so long, becoming the center of attention took a great deal of getting used to.
Naila had never imagined that her endeavor to save a few architectural masterpieces would make such a splash.
But several leading American newspapers had published stories about An American Heiress’s Guide to Landing a Lord .
After that, copies sold swiftly at a scandalously high price.
Her American publisher insisted that the heiresses interested in the information Naila had gathered would willingly pay an exorbitant price for it. And he was right.
“Your pamphlet is widely credited with making a match that will save Sherborne House in Berkshire,” Mr. Vaughan remarked.
“Actually, that’s why I’ve come to London.” Lord Broughton’s crumbling Berkshire mansion was slated to receive a huge cash infusion once Miss Phoebe Frost, a wealthy New York oil heiress, wed Broughton’s heir in a few weeks’ time.
“You are acquainted with the young lady’s family?”
“I met them after they purchased my pamphlet. They sought my advice on how to navigate the English aristocracy.” Since then, she and the bride-to-be had become friends. “People assume I must know the way of things since my sister is a duchess.”
“Your manners have always been impeccable,” he said gallantly. “I imagine there will be many more weddings thanks to your efforts. Is it the festivities that bring you to London?”
“That and, of course, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see my sister.”
“It is good to have you back among us.” He tipped his hat. “Unfortunately, I must leave you because I am late to an appointment. I do hope to see you again soon.”
After they exchanged goodbyes, Naila continued down Piccadilly, a bustling street full of shops and activity.
She halted when she reached her destination, the shiny dark green frontage of Hatchards bookshop.
She stared through the paned windows and caught sight of her pamphlet.
There it was on display— An American Heiress’s Guide to Landing a Lord —in bold gold lettering with navy blue flourishes. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.
While she admired her handiwork, Naila marveled at how different this second trip to England was from her first. She was here now as a respected woman in her own right.
An unwelcome thought intruded on her mind.
Had Hawk seen the publication? Would she run into him on this trip?
Trepidation about seeing Hawk again, and potentially churning up the past, had almost kept Naila from accepting the invitation to Phoebe’s wedding.
Then she’d realized Hawk was the very reason that she had to attend the festivities.
The wound he’d left on her heart was still tender and might always be so, but she couldn’t allow the specter of him to dictate how she lived her life. That’s why she’d ultimately decided to come. It was a way of proving to herself that she was taking control of her life.
Besides, Raya said Hawk rarely came to London, which was just as well. Naila had written a thing or two in her pamphlet—while in the heat of anger—that he might not appreciate.
With any luck, Hawk would never see it.
“ Ahlan wa sahlan. ” A familiar man’s voice greeted her from behind. “Welcome back.”
“ Salam. ” Naila turned to greet Kareem. “You are perfectly on time.”
She was pleased to see Kareem again after all these months. They’d agreed to meet at Hatchards after Kareem’s letter informed her that the venerable bookseller stocked her pamphlet.
“How good it is to see you.” He took both of her hands in his. “You are the talk of London.”
They both turned to admire the stack of pamphlets in the window. “Sometimes I cannot believe that we actually did it,” she said.
“ You did it,” he clarified. “It was kind of you to mention me in your publication. It wasn’t necessary.”
“Of course it was. I had to acknowledge your contribution,” she insisted. “I would never have been able to complete the project without your vast understanding of England’s great old houses.”
“It was a worthy project and my pleasure to offer any assistance I could,” he said. “Have you come back to London alone?”
“As if my mother would allow that,” she said. “Auntie Majida and my cousin Hind accompanied me.”
He looked delighted. “I must make sure to call on them.”
“They’ll be very glad to see you.”
“Shall we go inside the shop and see how your pamphlet is displayed on the tables?”
“Certainly.” She took his proffered arm. “ Yalla , lead the way.”
Hawk raised a glass to toast his friend. “To your health and happiness.”
The Honorable Charles Brownley, the future Viscount Broughton, dipped his chin. “Which is assured now that Sherborne House is saved for future generations.”
The old university friends were sitting at the center bow window in the Savile Club overlooking Piccadilly. It was Hawk’s first time back in London since his final break with Naila. He’d avoided society for the past year.
But no more. Yes, he’d come to London for the wedding of one of his oldest friends, but he also intended to find a wife as he’d vowed to do last year. He was finally ready to move past Naila.
“It’s fortunate that your American heiress comes with a dowry generous enough to save your family estate,” Hawk remarked.
“It is not just her papa’s bank account that interests me,” Charles said. “It is Phoebe herself. I love everything about her.”
Hawk stared at him in surprise. “Are you saying this is a love match?”
Charles grinned. “Deuced convenient, isn’t it?
She’s wealthy and I love her.” Charles had always been something of a romantic.
Unlike most men, particularly Englishmen, Charles wasn’t afraid to show his emotions.
“I never imagined I would be able to fulfill my familial duty while also following my heart.”
“How did you two become acquainted?” Hawk asked.
“Our fathers arranged the meeting. Phoebe’s father, Mr. Frost, found us through that pamphlet that is all the rage.”
“What pamphlet?”
Charles laughed. “You have obviously been away from London for too long if you have never heard of this marriage guide that helps pair wealthy American girls with impoverished lordlings like myself.”
Hawk blinked, his pulse quickening. Surely, it couldn’t be. “What is the name of this guide?”
“ An American Heiress’s Guide to Landing a Lord ,” Charles said. “Not exactly subtle, eh?”
So Naila had gone through with her project. “And you say this guide is a big success?”
“An enormous triumph. It’s selling swiftly in America as well as here.”
Despite the soreness in his chest, pride in Naila for her accomplishment surged through Hawk.
Good for her. Not only had she completed her project but it was actually serving the purpose she intended.
Charles, whose family home had fallen into disrepair, was proof enough of that.
That Naila had had a hand in saving Sherborne House, while also helping Charles connect with a woman he cared for, was an admirable achievement.
There had been many times over the past year when he’d mourned his reluctance to ask Naila to marry him during their encounter in Strick’s garden.
And then he’d convince himself that he’d made the correct decision and it was all for the best. While he’d wallowed in regret and uncertainty, Naila had taken charge of her life.
She’d thrived in his absence, blossomed into an even more admirable woman.
“You say the guide is on sale here in London?” he asked her.
“Yes, I just saw it in the window down the street at Hatchards.”
Hawk frowned. “Why would it be popular here in London? Who here would buy it? I thought it was a guide for wealthy American girls looking to marry lords.”
“It is. It was, anyway,” Charles amended. “The truth is that every lord hopes to be mentioned in the book. These days, it’s practically a sign that you’ve arrived in society.”
Why would anyone take pride in having their impoverished status advertised for all to see?
It was not a question he could put to his friend, given the depleted bank accounts of Charles’s family.
Sipping his drink, he peered out the window.
And his heart stopped. Surely it couldn’t be.
His eyes must be playing a trick on him.
It was like a replay of what he’d seen through the window of Strick’s townhome a year ago.
It was Naila, dressed in vibrant red, striding purposefully along the side pavement. What was she doing here? As she approached the bow window, he noticed her companion was none other than Kareem Amar.