Page 36 of The Earl That Got Away (Sirens in Silk #2)
“The wedding of the Honorable Charles Bromley to his American heiress is the talk of London.” She smoothed a hand down her bodice. “And Miss Darwish deserves all the credit.”
“That book of hers is making quite a splash.” As he spoke, he spotted Naila going from one table to another, stopping to chat or smile with each attendee.
Frances followed his gaze. “Our quiet friend has come out of her shell.”
“She certainly has.” He noted that Naila was not dressed like a plum. She wore a soft peach gown that stood out among the sea of unappealing fruit. “Was there a dress code for this engagement?”
“How do you mean?”
“Why does it look like a plum tree exploded in here?”
She looked at him in surprise. “Do you truly not know?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I did.”
“The puce,” she said with an amused expression, “is for your benefit, I believe.”
“My benefit?” What the devil was she talking about? “I detest the color. It looks like someone took a particularly sickly shade of pink and soaked it in mud.”
“You should ask Miss Darwish,” she said with a mysterious smile as she drifted away.
“Why?” he called after her. “What does she have to do with this?” But Frances had already melted into the crowd.
Shaking his head, Hawk scanned the room, seeing many familiar faces, including Strick, Guy and Charles. He was introduced to several young ladies and could not help but notice they were all wearing puce gowns.
Hawk buckled down, determined to engage with each one, to behave like a man in serious pursuit of a wife.
He did not expect to care for his future countess in the all-consuming way he had loved Naila.
He could never survive such an intense love, but compatibility was important.
He hoped to have some interests in common with his wife.
To that end, he chatted and inquired and spoke about the weather with a number of young ladies. However, it wasn’t long before he realized that finding a woman with whom he was compatible was going to be far more challenging than he had anticipated.
There was Miss Smith, a real estate heiress from Chicago. “I love puce. It is absolutely my favorite color,” she told him shortly after they were introduced.
Lady Madeline was the daughter of a viscount. Her feathered puce hat matched her dress. “What other colors appeal to you, my lord?”
The banal banter continued as he went from group to group until he found himself in company with Naila, her sister, their young cousin Hind and Charles’s betrothed, Miss Frost.
“Miss Hind,” he said to her. “I trust you have fully recovered from your unfortunate fall at Briar Hall.”
“Oh yes, I am completely fine.” Naila’s young cousin had blossomed in her year away, her bone structure was more defined and she carried herself with more self-assurance.
Miss Frost watched their exchange with great interest. “Miss Darwish,” she said to Hind. “May I ask why you are not wearing puce?”
“Me?” Hind flattened a hand against her chest. “Oh, I am not interested in finding a husband in England. I want to live in America.”
That was direct. The young lady had obviously overcome the girlish crush she’d once had on Hawk. Then he frowned. Was puce reserved exclusively for maidens intent on landing a husband?
“Not interested in finding a husband in England?” Miss Frost reacted as if she couldn’t imagine such a notion. “Why ever not? I think it’s lovely here.”
Hawk thought that was a good thing considering she was about to marry a future English viscount.
“I am expected to marry a gentleman from our community,” Hind answered.
“In New York?” Miss Frost asked.
“Yes,” Hind said. “My auntie Majida says a shared background is always helpful in marriage.”
“And that is expected of you?” Miss Frost inquired.
Naila’s eyes met Hawk’s. “Yes,” she answered for Hind. “That is what is expected.”
Hawk found it interesting, the way she’d looked at him.
As if in shared understanding. They seemed to be transitioning into a new sort of relationship, a friendship born of an appreciation for what they’d been through, for what they’d once meant to each other.
He was glad they could comfortably be in each other’s company.
But sadness twinged in his throat for all they’d lost. He shook his head, determined to change the subject before he became too maudlin.
“Miss Darwish,” he said to Naila, “is there a dress code for those attending your salons?”
“How do you mean?” she asked. “Anyone who is respectably attired is most welcome.”
“I was wondering why so many of the eligible young ladies are in puce.”
Someone snorted. He thought it was Miss Frost but when he looked at her she was perfectly composed.
A smile curved Hind’s mouth. “It is because of you, my lord.” She turned to Naila. “He doesn’t know?”
“Well,” Naila said, “if you’ll excuse me, I must see to my guests... my other guests.”
“It’s in her pamphlet,” Hind said and Hawk could see that she was highly amused.
“What is?” he asked as Naila scurried away.
“You are in her pamphlet,” Miss Frost clarified.
“Me? Why? I am not in need of an heiress to save my estate.”
Miss Frost exchanged a look with Hind before responding. “ An American Heiress’s Guide to Landing a Lord lists every eligible aristocrat, whether or not he is in need of funds.”
Hawk blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“And,” Hind added, “the pamphlet lists your yearly income and your likes and dislikes.”
“My likes and dislikes?” he repeated. “Such as?”
“Perhaps you’d care to read it for yourself,” Miss Frost suggested. “There are a few copies on the table over there.”
Hawk immediately crossed over to pick up a pamphlet. He flipped through the pages, reading the various entries.
Marquess of Norbury
4th marquess
Entailed estate is Fortworth, but it yields
a small income, owing to agricultural distress
Likes: gaming and fencing
Hawk kept thumbing through the pages until he found what he was looking for.
Earl of Hawksworth
6th earl
Entailed estate is Briar Hall
The earl is exceedingly wealthy, having
inherited all family assets once the previous
earl and his three sons perished in a
boating accident
Likes: Rowing, liver and the color puce
“Did you pay for that guide?” Naila came up to him. “I’m not giving my pamphlets away.” The banked smile, the naughty spark in her eye, were so like the young girl he fell in love with that he could only smile.
“I ought to sue you for slander,” he said mildly.
“Why? I did say you are exceedingly wealthy and that you enjoy rowing.”
“Puce and liver? Two things I absolutely abhor?”
“When word got around that you were likely to attend today’s salon, there was obviously a run on puce fabrics at the dressmakers’.”
“You find it humorous.”
“Don’t you? I burst out laughing when everyone started to arrive and I saw so many gowns in your favorite color.”
“You, Miss Darwish, are a menace to society.”
“You should be flattered.”
“I should?”
“Look at how many eligible young ladies want to win you over. I understand that you are in search of a wife.”
“And you thought I’d find one dressed in a color I cannot stand?”
“Well, when I wrote your entry, I was rather displeased with you. It was harmless but I found it endlessly amusing.”
“And now,” he asked, “are you still displeased with me?” What were the new rules around their friendship? Was flirting acceptable? “Or did you encourage the young ladies to wear puce in order to turn me away from them?”
She flushed, looking uncomfortable. Apparently, this new understanding did not include mild flirtation. It was just as well. Nothing about his involvement with Naila could ever be mild. No matter how hard either of them might try.