Page 8 of The Earl That Got Away (Sirens in Silk #2)
“Yes,” Naila said. “I would appreciate a ride back.”
Before she knew it, Hawk’s hands were on her waist, strong, firm and decisive, lifting her into the carriage.
Her breath caught at the feel of his strength and the sensation of his hands on her body.
The scent of him, shaving soap and traces of outdoor exertion, floated over her.
Miss Vaughan scooted closer to her brother to make room.
Hawk tapped on the carriage frame. “We shall see you back at the castle.”
Guy’s eyes sparkled. “Do enjoy the rest of your walk.”
As they pulled away, Naila could still feel the sensation of Hawk’s warm, powerful grasp. Had his hands lingered on her waist a fraction longer than necessary? She shook the thought away. She’d obviously imagined it.
“How are you enjoying England, Miss Darwish?” Guy inquired as the carriage rumbled away from Hawk and Hind.
“It is a beautiful country. And the castle is remarkable, a prime example of medieval architecture.”
“Are you interested in architecture?” Frances asked.
“Very much so. I’ve apprenticed with my cousin, who is an architect.”
“Apprenticed?” Frances regarded her with interest. “Do you design buildings?”
“No. I am more a student of the principles and different styles of architecture. I often research the design elements for my cousin before he begins a commission.”
“My goodness,” Frances said with what seemed like admiration, “you and your sister are most enterprising.”
“What kind of buildings do you most admire?” Guy asked.
“Just about everything here,” she said with a laugh. “In America, everything is so new. In England, your country houses are such a treat for me, especially the older styles that we Americans don’t see much of.”
“My home is quite old.” Guy adjusted the reins, guiding the horses over bumpy terrain. “But if you wish to visit truly ancient properties, then you’ll want to visit Briar Hall.”
“What is Briar Hall?”
“It’s an Elizabethan-style country manor house in Lincolnshire.”
“Oh, I would love to see it.” Being able to visit a structure that was built more than two centuries ago offered an authenticity that she’d never be able to match at home.
“Then we must convince Hawk to invite us all.”
Her mind stumbled. “Hawk?”
Guy nodded. “Yes, Briar Hall is one of his country houses.”
“I would not want to bother him.” It was too painful to contemplate visiting one of Hawk’s properties, a place where they might have lived together, where their children’s shouts and laughter should echo through the halls.
“He has several more properties,” Frances told her. “The earldom of Hawksworth is quite vast.”
Guy chuckled. “That’s why so many debutantes have their eye on him.”
Frances adjusted her parasol so that it shaded both women. “Raya says Hawk has announced his intention to wed.”
“Might he have his eye on Miss Darwish?” her brother asked.
Naila’s face heated. “I’m sure that’s not—”
“Miss Hind Darwish,” he clarified.
Naila’s stomach turned, the bumpy ride heightening the nauseous sensation.
“Do you think so?” Frances pondered this. “Miss Hind does appear to possess a sunny nature and she is certainly very pretty.”
“I imagine that a man who marries a cheerful woman can expect to see many happy days,” Guy remarked. “What do you think, Miss Darwish?”
“Any man who weds my beautiful young cousin would be very fortunate.” The thought of Hawk and Hind together was a knife twisting in her gut. But she would never say anything hateful about her cousin. “There is no one with a kinder heart.”
“That sounds like an endorsement,” Guy noted. “I assume you would approve such a match? And your family as well?”
“I cannot speak for my uncle Refaat, Hind’s father.” She spoke truthfully despite the sorrow in her heart. “But I do believe that Hind would make an ideal wife.”
“It is settled then,” Guy said cheerfully. “We should do everything in our power to ensure Hawk’s happiness.”
“Do you not think you are moving rather quickly?” Frances asked her brother. “We do not know whether the earl tends to court Miss Hind.”
“You might be right,” he acknowledged. “I am just so eager to see Hawk happy after all he has been through.”
Naila couldn’t resist asking. “What he has been through?”
“Hawk hasn’t revealed himself to me,” he answered, “but I suspect there was a woman in Philadelphia who broke his heart.”
“You don’t know that,” his sister interjected.
“What I am certain about is that Hawk returned from America a much more somber and cynical man. He’s almost a different person now. It is hard to describe.”
The lump in Naila’s throat ached at this confirmation of just how badly she’d hurt Basil. The cold stranger of today was nothing like the man she’d known. Even now, if she closed her eyes, she could still see Basil’s warm smile and feel the adoration in his earnest gaze.
“Hawk was but a boy when he went to America.” Frances adjusted her skirts. “Maybe he just grew up and, as a man, is a more serious person than the boy you used to know.”
“Possibly,” Guy said. “But somehow I don’t think so.”
Frances turned to Naila. “Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Darwish, that growing up alters people?”
It had certainly changed her. But it hadn’t altered her desires, just her expectations.
“I do agree on both points,” Naila said diplomatically. “I think we are shaped by both maturity and by life’s setbacks and disappointments.”
“A very sensible answer,” Guy pronounced.
His words stung. The old Naila, the impulsive, joy-seeking person she used to be, would balk at being called sensible. Even if that was exactly what she was now. Practical. Reasonable. Logical.
Unremarkable.
Naila lacked the life experiences that make a person truly interesting. She was ordinary, unexceptional, an example of what happened when youthful promise did not live up to future expectation. No wonder Hawk barely noticed her now.
Naila scarcely recognized herself.