Page 34 of The Earl That Got Away (Sirens in Silk #2)

The architect was still sniffing after her. Or maybe, for all he knew, they’d formalized their union. Hawk had been out of touch with all his friends for the past year. Would Strick have written to tell him Naila was married? The thought of her being anyone’s wife twisted his insides.

He hated the feelings that seeing her again stirred up in his gut.

Joy. Loss. Resentment.

A longing for what could have been.

As she passed the bow window, she flashed a white smile, laughing at something the architect said.

It slammed into Hawk like a punch in the gut.

Even though Naila would never be his, Hawk would never tire of looking at her.

But it was over in a flash; Naila passed the window and was soon out of sight.

Gone yet again.

As he sat there, his chest swelling with the rush of her, Hawk resisted the urge to twist in his seat to watch Naila walk away.

He realized that there was something different about her now.

It took him a moment to identify what. It was the way she carried herself, with the vigor and confidence of a woman in full control of her destiny.

And—damn it all to hell—it made her all the more attractive.

“Will you do it?” Phoebe asked. “All the girls want you to host salons.”

Naila scoffed. “I’m hardly an expert on the aristocracy.”

“You know a lot more than we do.”

Phoebe joined Naila, Raya and Hind at a Brook Street tearoom, one of the few places respectable young ladies could meet without a chaperone and still maintain their reputation.

“But you hosted salons in New York,” Phoebe persisted, “and they were a great success.”

“Your family hosted them,” she reminded her friend. “Not me.”

Hind nibbled on a biscuit. “You are rather skilled at bringing people from different backgrounds together.”

“Did you go to the salons?” Raya asked her young cousin.

Hind nodded. “I went to one of them. It was very well attended.”

“My father can be intimidating,” Phoebe added. “But Naila wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.”

After Phoebe’s ambitious father acquired Naila’s pamphlet, he’d reached out for guidance navigating the English aristocracy and paid Naila handsomely for her time.

“I should just write a letter and propose a deal,” Mr. Frost had told Naila back then. “My daughter gets the title and the viscount gets the cash he desperately needs to stay afloat.”

Naila had advised Mr. Frost that an English lord might appreciate a more subtle approach. In the end, Mr. Frost had written to Lord Broughton, inviting him to call on them should he ever find himself in New York.

Naila was present at the small dinner party the Frosts hosted a few months later in honor of Lord Broughton and his heir. To the delight of all involved, Phoebe and Charles hit it off immediately and, before long, their fathers were hammering out a marriage agreement.

From there, Naila had advised Phoebe on some of the finer points of English customs, which she’d learned from Guy’s sister, Frances, during her short time in England. Some of Phoebe’s marriage-minded friends, eager to learn how to land a lord, sometimes joined their sessions.

“I would never know how to behave if you hadn’t advised me,” Phoebe said. “Charles would have thought me terribly brazen if I had acted as American girls normally do.”

“Nonsense.” Naila reached for a biscuit.

“You are a success in your own right.” But she did see the advantages of hosting salons to bring eligible lords and young heiresses together.

She’d certainly eased the way for Charles and Phoebe by smoothing any cultural snags that popped up along the way.

And now Sherborne Hall was being saved. Satisfaction rippled through her.

“If I am a success,” Phoebe insisted, “it is thanks to you.”

“Your charms attracted Charles.”

“And my dollars,” Phoebe said with a laugh. “But having you there to advise me made a tremendous difference. Won’t you think about hosting a few salons while you are here?”

Naila bit into her biscuit. “I will seriously consider it.”

Raya, who’d listened quietly up until now, set her teacup down. “I think it’s an excellent idea.”

“You do?” Naila asked.

“Bravo.” Phoebe clapped her hands together. “If the duchess thinks it’s a capital idea, then it must be. There is no female personage higher than a duchess.”

“Yes, there is,” Naila reminded her. “Do you remember discussing rank?”

“Of course I do,” Phoebe said. “What I meant is that, there is no one higher aside from the royal family. And Her Grace sanctions the idea.”

“Not only do I sanction it,” Raya said, “but I think you should hold your first salon at Carey House.”

Phoebe’s eyes widened. “A salon at a duke’s London residence? Everyone will want to come!”

Raya directed her gaze at Naila. “Would you like me to host a salon for you?” she asked. “Do you enjoy matchmaking?”

“I’m hardly a matchmaker.” Naila hadn’t thought of herself that way. “Or if I am, the match I am making is between a great house and an even greater fortune needed to save it.”

“How unfortunate that people are a necessary part of your scheme,” Raya said dryly.

“If all couples were half as delightful as Phoebe and Charles then yes, I suppose I do enjoy playing matchmaker. I take satisfaction in knowing that Sherborne House will be saved while, at the same time, Phoebe is marrying a man who cares for her.”

“Would you like to make more matches?” Raya asked.

“Yes, I suppose I would,” Naila said. “But it is rather ironic.”

“What is?” Phoebe asked.

“That I should be helping couples come together when I have never managed to make a match for myself.”

“You’ve had plenty of interest,” Raya reminded her. “It is not every day that a girl disdains a proposal from a high-ranking lord.”

Phoebe’s eyes bulged. “A lord proposed to you?”

“What?” Hind asked at the same time. “When?”

“A very handsome, eligible and wealthy lord,” Raya added.

“Which lord?” Hind asked.

“And you said no?” Phoebe leaned forward in her seat. “Exactly how high-ranking was this lord?”

“Very,” Raya assured them. Naila kicked her under the table but Raya swiftly moved her legs out of the way.

Hind’s gaze bounced between the two sisters. “When did this happen?” she asked. “And why have I never heard this story?”

“Because it is nobody’s business.” Naila glared at her sister. “Raya spoke out of turn. And besides, he never really proposed.” At least not when he was a lord.

Phoebe looked scandalized. “Can you speak like that to a duchess?” she half-whispered.

Naila scowled. “You can if she is your sister and if she is being provoking.”

“He would have proposed had you been receptive,” Raya insisted.

Naila’s eyes shot daggers at her sister. “Can we please speak of something else?”

“Don’t be angry,” Raya said. “If anything your bankability just went up. Not only have you written a pamphlet about catching a lord, you’ve actually had one who wanted to propose to you.”

“That is a private matter,” Naila snapped.

“It’s unfortunate though,” Raya continued, “that you tossed him away.”

“Was he a terrible person?” Hind asked.

“No, he wasn’t,” Naila said. “In the end, we just didn’t suit.”

“I am sorry that it wasn’t a love match,” Phoebe said.

“Well, actually—” Raya began.

Naila cut her off. “You’ve said enough.”

Phoebe looked even more scandalized, but Raya just laughed and sipped her tea while Hind continued to give Naila a wondering look.