A Sinner No More Page 9

  The one who sat across from her for the duration of the trip, staring silently out the window at the passing landscape as if she didn’t exist. Had Lord Hawksmoor so easily forgotten the intimacies they had shared? The closeness that led to their kiss? Had he no inkling of the desire the touch of his lips had aroused within her or how desperately she wished to experience his mouth upon hers once more?

  He’d contributed little to the conversation, leaving it to Lord and Lady Glenmor to carry the bulk of it, something the couple did quite easily, speaking on any number of topics from politics to social issues to plans they had for ongoing renovations of Maple Glen, the earl’s countryseat. Lady Glenmor spoke knowledgeably on each subject and her husband listened with rapt attention, never once treating her as if her opinion was of little consequence. An uncommon occurrence in the houses Madalene had worked in over the years. It gave her hope that maybe someday, if she did marry, she might expect the same from her own husband.

  Her gaze drifted to Lord Hawksmoor then just as quickly skidded away. She had no business letting her thoughts carry her down such a path. A man of his stature would never consider a woman like her. The kiss they’d shared when he escorted her home several nights ago was nothing more than an anomaly brought on by the anguish he’d experienced in remembering what his brother had done.

  It had nothing to do with her, despite how it had affected her.

  She let out a slow breath and turned to stare out her own window as the carriage navigated the streets of Grosvenor Park. She had never worked in this part of the city before. Her work as a servant had occurred mostly in the country houses. It wasn’t until she was dismissed from Raven Manor that she and her father were forced to go to London in search of work.

  “I will deliver the ladies to Lord Ridgemont’s first,” Lord Glenmor said, directing his statement to Lord Hawksmoor. “Then I shall convey you to The Devil’s Lair. I would prefer the ladies not be exposed to that.”

  Lady Glenmor gave her husband a grateful smile. “Thank you, Ben. No offense to your establishment, Lord Hawksmoor, but I have no wish to return there any time soon.”

  “You were there previously?” he asked, her comment grabbing his attention.

  “I was. The night you and Benedict were injured.”

  His brow furrowed as if he was putting the pieces of a puzzle together. “Did you know Lord Pengrin?”

  Her expression darkened. “I did.”

  Lord Hawksmoor nodded but must have sensed, as Madalene did, that it was not a subject she wished to discuss further and he let the matter drop, returning his gaze back to the window without glancing Madalene’s way.

  His avoidance of her made her heart ache. Was he embarrassed about the other night? Did he resent having kissed her? There were so many things she wanted to ask him, so much he likely had locked inside of his head about his brother and whatever game he insisted involved her, but she was afraid to broach it. Afraid he would shy away from the dark memories and lose them forever.

  Her breath caught. His journals! How had she not thought of them before now?

  Madalene straightened sharply in her seat. Lord Hawksmoor had kept journals. How many times had she entered a room to clean or deliver tea or do whatever task had been assigned her, and there he would be, sitting in a quiet corner or at a table, writing in one of his leather-bound journals. It was rare for her to see him without one close at hand, yet he guarded them religiously, never letting anyone else so much as touch them.

  Once, as their friendship grew, she had been so bold as to ask him what he wrote in them.

  “Observations, my curious little pet. Thoughts I have.”

  She liked that he called her that—my pet. It made her feel special. Important somehow, even though she knew deep inside she was nothing more than a little mouse in a very big house. She skittered about quietly, beneath the notice of others. At least she had, until he held out a piece of cheese and enticed her out of the shadows.

  “Observations about what?” She took a step closer to him, forgetting herself. Her position, or lack thereof.

  “Whatever I see. You never know when such information may come in handy some day.”

  “What have you seen today?” How easy it was to talk with him. His warm smile and lovely green eyes exuded such warmth they drew her in against her better judgment. She did not think a more handsome man existed in all of England.

  “I have seen that you need a new pair of shoes.”

  “Oh.”

  She glanced down at her feet, embarrassed. The side of one shoe had begun to give way from its sole. She had been afraid to bring the matter to the housekeeper, Mrs. Brewster. She was not a kindly sort and took a portion of Madalene’s pay to cover any such expenses. Money she preferred to send to Father to ease his hardships.

  “I shall see that you have a new pair straightaway.”

  She shook her head. “No, that is fine. I shall repair it—”

  “I will not have you going about with your feet coming out of your shoes,” he said, his voice about as lordly as it got. “You will have a new pair. And do not concern yourself with Mrs. Brewster. I will take care of her.”

  And he turned back to his writing, dipped his quill and made a notation on the page, smiling as he did so in such a way her heart expanded until it ached. Next to Father, he was the best man she had ever encountered. She hoped her employment at Raven Manor continued for years to come, for if she were to leave, she would miss him very much. Too much.

  “Miss Cosgrove?” She pulled herself back to the present to find Lord Hawksmoor and Lord and Lady Glenmor staring at her. “Is something the matter?”

  Lord Hawksmoor’s voice sounded the same now as it had that day in the library when he’d noticed the state of her shoes. And in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to help him, to return a long overdue kindness.

  “You kept journals,” she told him.

  “Yes,” he nodded. “Mr. Bowen mentioned as such. They are at my office.”

  “No.” The journals she had heard Mr. Bowen mention were observations, yes, but of a business nature. He had used them to further his own interests, to use against those whose influence he could manipulate. “Personal journals. Ones written before…” Before his brother’s death. Before he had turned into the man referred to as The Hawk.

  His eyebrows knitted together and he leaned forward. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen them.”

  “Do you know where they are now?”

  She shook her head. “I assume you took them with you when you left Raven Manor. You were quite protective of them, so I do not imagine you would have left them behind.”

  He straightened in his seat. “Then they must be at The Devil’s Lair.”

  Lord Glenmor shook his head. “Marcus found many journals when he went through your office after the ordeal with Lord Pengrin, but none of them were of a personal nature.”

  “If I was protective over them, as Miss Cosgrove indicates, likely I would have kept them well hidden,” he said, the words coming slowly, like a discovery he’d only just made. Something hidden in the shadow that had suddenly drifted to the surface. He turned his attention back to Madalene. “Do you know where I kept them when I lived at Raven Manor?”

  Her cheeks flamed. If she admitted the truth, it would illuminate the interest she had taken in him, the silly infatuation of a young girl with a tender heart. But she was not that young girl any longer, nor was he the man she had once known, yet her feelings for him had not faded, as an infatuation should have.

  “The hearth in your bedchamber had a loose stone along the side of it.”

  Lord and Lady Glenmor’s eyebrows lifted in tandem and the heat in her cheeks burned even hotter. Curse her pale skin!

  “And how, exactly, did you know this?” Lord Hawksmoor asked.

  She cleared her throat. “I was a maid of all work and was often tasked with cleaning out the hearths. One night, I noted the loose stone. When
I tried to put it back in place, something prevented me from pushing it in. I pulled it out to investigate and discovered a narrow cubby. Resting inside of it were several journals.”

  He leaned forward. “And did you read them?”

  “I did not.”

  He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Such admirable restraint.”

  He didn’t sound as if he believed her and she’d be lying if she claimed not to have been tempted. She had been. But something had stopped her. What if in these journals he spoke of a young lady he had taken a shine to? A young lady far more befitting a man in his position than she could ever be? It had stayed her hand. She did not want to give up the fantasies she had concocted in her mind. She wanted to hold them safe and keep them from being tarnished by harsh reality. She’d had enough disappointments in her life.

  “They were not my thoughts to invade, my lord,” she said, finally.

  He remained silent for several minutes and a pregnant tension filled the interior of the carriage. “I suppose I shall have to look for loose stones then, hadn’t I?”

  She was spared from answering him as the carriage slowed to a stop in front of a splendid townhouse. Madalene glanced out the window, past Lord Hawksmoor’s sharp profile.

  “We are here,” Lady Glenmor announced.

  Madalene heard the smile in her voice but did not turn toward her to verify such. She was too mesmerized by Lord Hawksmoor’s serious expression, filled with intent and purpose.

  What did he hope to find in those journals? And would their contents help or hinder his quest to recapture his past?

  * * *

  Lady Henrietta Harrow hugged Lady Glenmor tightly, her happiness in seeing her friend obvious, though a hint of sadness still lurked in the young lady’s eyes. Lady Glenmor had mentioned that she had grown close to Lady Henrietta during her brief time as the lady’s companion, but had been forced to break her heart in an attempt to stop her from making a decision that would ruin her life. While their greeting today was warm and the affection between them evident, it was also obvious that they had not yet recaptured the closeness they once shared.

  “So this is the young lady that requires a chaperone, is it?” The formidable Lady Dalridge dragged her assessing gaze up and down Madalene, her ornate walking stick tapping lightly against the hardwood of the receiving room. “Well, we can hardly traipse her about London in such underwhelming apparel. That must change. Did you bring other frocks with you, my dear?”

  “Yes, but—” Madalene stumbled over her words. What did the woman mean by traipse her about London? There must be some mistake. “I am only here to interview potential housekeepers. My current apparel is more than adequate.”

  “Adequate? What proper young lady wishes a wardrobe that is merely adequate?” Madalene glanced at Lady Glenmor for assistance but Lady Dalridge waved a hand in the air, calling her attention back to her. “Heavens, do not look to Lady Glenmor in that regard. The machinations it required to get her into anything with a frill or flounce during her time with us was Herculean. Please tell me you will not be so difficult as she.”

  Madalene refrained from reminding Lady Dalridge it had been she who had been summoned by Lady Glenmor’s cousin, Patience, to help alter one of those dresses she now referred to. Still, she would require no such dresses for her brief trip.

  “Forgive me, my lady, but I think you misunderstand the purpose of my visit—” Madalene looked once more to Lady Glenmor, but she only smiled, any hard feelings she’d had toward Lady Dalridge for dismissing her obviously smoothed over. Would Madalene ever feel such forgiveness toward Lord and Lady Ravenwood? Doubtful. Her good nature did not extend that far.

  Lady Dalridge banged her walking stick to regain Madalene’s attention. “Was your grandfather not a baronet, my dear?”

  “Y-yes, he was, but—” She had not known the man. He had passed away shortly before she was born and his stature in society had died with him.

  “There is no but about it, I’m afraid. In fact, I met your grandfather on several occasions before my marriage to Lord Dalridge. He was a lovely man and while his daughter may have married beneath her station, I see no reason that should affect you now that you are here with me. I think during your stay we shall make a bit of a project out of you.”

  A project? Madalene’s heart plummeted. She did not care to be someone’s project. “Lady Dalridge, I appreciate that you—”

  “No, you don’t,” the viscountess said with a wave of her jeweled hand. “You think me an interfering old lady who is sticking her nose into business where it doesn’t belong. But I can barely get Lady Henrietta to step foot out of the house since the whole regretful incidence with Lord Pengrin and I am quite at a loss as to what to do with my time. Now, if I am to play hostess and chaperone to you, my dear, the least you can do in return is allow me to take you somewhere more interesting than dreary employment agencies.”

  Lady Glenmor laughed. “Don’t bother trying to fight her, Miss Cosgrove. She is determined to have her way. And it would not hurt you to have a little fun while you’re here. Lady Rebecca insisted you take some time to enjoy yourself.”

  “And if it stops her from badgering me, all the better,” Lady Henrietta added and though she said the words with the hint of a smile, there was something desperate in her gaze that spoke to Madalene and made her want to help. Lady Henrietta pulled nervously at the thick layer of golden hair that fell over her shoulder, partially concealing the burn scars on her neck. Her self-consciousness was obvious. No wonder the young woman cared little for being out in society.

  “Very well then. But I do not plan on staying for long.” Besides, it was the middle of winter. Surely there could not be that many entertainments going on in the city with most of its inhabitants gone to their country houses until the new Season began in April.

  “Long enough to provide me with some amusement, I hope,” Lady Dalridge said. “Now come, Lydia will show you to your room and get you settled. Then we shall see what we can do about this sadly lacking wardrobe. My lovely niece has any number of gowns going to waste, now that she refuses to leave the house.”

  Lady Dalridge cast a glance over her shoulder at Lady Henrietta, but her gaze softened when it rested on the young woman, a mix of worry and despair written in the lines of her face.

  When they reached the top of the steps, Lady Dalridge looped her arm through Madalene’s and lowered her voice. “Perhaps having another young lady about the house will entice her to rejoin society instead of hiding away. She had done so well while Lady Glenmor was here. I berate myself everyday for being so blind and foolish as to send her away.”

  The elderly lady sighed and shook her head and Madalene realized the offer of chaperone extended by Lady Dalridge had not come without a price, though as far as prices went, this one was easy enough to pay. During her previous visit to alter Lady Glenmor’s gown, Madalene had been most impressed by Lady Henrietta’s character and sweet nature. If her presence here helped the young woman in any way, she was happy to do it.

  “I will be more than happy to offer her my friendship, my lady, but I do not know if that will entice her into doing anything she does not wish to do.”

  “I do appreciate that, Miss Cosgrove. You are a definite jewel. Lady Glenmor and Lady Rebecca were not wrong in that regard.”

  The thought of facing society did not make her feel like a jewel. It made her feel like a fraud. What did she know about conducting herself in society? Her only exposure to that world had been on the fringes as the daughter of a land steward or a maid in their houses. Her mother had taught her proper etiquette, but the lessons had been so long ago, they had gathered dust in her memories.

  What would society do if they discovered a servant walked amongst them, pretending to be one of them? Would they run her off for the imposter she was? Her best hope was to find her replacement as soon as possible and return to her safe little world on the Northill estate. Then again, even that would come to an end once she fou
nd the new housekeeper.

  A cold fear of the unknown settled in her belly and bled into her veins. Her world slowly tilted upside down and she had nothing of substance to grab hold of to keep from losing her footing.

  Chapter Nine

  Hawk had exhausted every possibility in searching for the journals Madalene insisted he once possessed. Every nook and cranny had been poked, prodded, yanked and eventually kicked in the hopes something would fall lose.

  Nothing of import did, other than a stack of letters tied together. Though he feared he may have broken his toe, a fact that did little to improve his darkening mood. Equally as disconcerting, were the stains on the carpet that had soaked into the hardwood beneath. Not just inside the office where he now stood, angry and embittered, but outside its door as well, marking the spot where two men had died because of him.

  His staff at The Devil’s Lair had welcomed him back with a polite deference. And while none of them appeared overjoyed at his return, nor did they appear disappointed either. They simply seemed…indifferent.

  “You did not mingle with your staff,” Lord Glenmor had informed him when he’d mumbled like a spoiled child at their lack of enthusiasm. “They are simply treating you in the manner you had always wished to be treated. The fact that most stayed after two of your men were murdered trying to protect you speaks volumes, one would think.”

  Murdered. The word reverberated through him. Two men had traded their lives for his. The knowledge left him extremely uncomfortable. How did one repay that kind of debt? Especially when the recipients were buried six feet under.

  “I shall ensure their families are cared for.” It was the only avenue of reimbursement left. And the least he could do.