Her charming smile flashed again. “I thought you would never ask. I believe the baby daughter was actually my uncle’s child and not the baron’s.”
“What makes you think so?”
“First, the timing of her birth. She was born barely nine months after the lady’s marriage. But there are other indications—certain of the daughter’s mannerisms and features. The set of her eyes bears an uncanny resemblance to my uncle’s, for instance. Her hair color also is similar, although his has turned silver by now.”
“You have met the daughter?”
“Yes. When I realized she was living in London, I searched her out. She is near my same age but has already accomplished a great deal in her life. She is a botanical scholar and a gifted artist, with an expertise on roses. When I read a scientific paper by her, I was surprised to find her writings have a literary bent like Uncle’s. Of course, I could not tell her the real reason for my interest in her work.”
Hawk was impressed by Lady Skye’s attention to detail, but still skeptical of her conclusion. “If the lady was carrying Cornelius’s child, why wouldn’t she have told him?”
“Because she was married to a wealthy, powerful nobleman and feared his retribution. According to the
midwife, she would not go to Cornelius for help, for she couldn’t bear for him to be hurt. She despaired of leaving her newborn daughter behind also, but the possible consequences would have been worse. Making her infidelity public would have caused an enormous scandal, and the baron’s violence against her would likely have intensified. And he might have taken his revenge on the child or, at the least, disowned her. Yet if she took the baby, she feared he would never stop looking for her. If she simply died, her daughter would have the possibility of a good life.”
“It sounds tediously melodramatic,” Hawk drawled.
“Indeed,” Lady Skye agreed. “But a scandal could still result if I go charging off, announcing my theory to the world. The baron remarried a year later, and if his first wife was still alive at the time, he would have committed bigamy. He is now gone, but his son inherited the barony, and there could be a question of his legitimacy. So you see if I am to investigate further, why I must tread carefully?”
Hawk did see the impediments Lady Skye faced, but she didn’t seem to expect a reply from him as she continued.
“Furthermore, until I know if the lady is alive, I don’t want to tell my uncle and raise his hopes. If she is not, there may be no reason to dredge up the painful past. Yet I cannot simply drop the matter or ignore my conscience. Uncle doesn’t know he might have a daughter. If it is true, he should know about her. And she should likewise know about him. As I said, he has been like a father to me, and he deserves every happiness.”
“Why haven’t you asked your brother or cousins for help?” Hawk asked.
“Because they are fully occupied at present. Quinn is something of a genius who occasionally dabbles in science, and he has disappeared from London, I presume to work on his latest invention, although he sometimes acts contrarily just to thwart me. My cousins Ashton and Jack both recently married. I don’t wish to intrude on their privacy with their new brides, particularly when a search might take them out of the country. Only Aunt Isabella and my cousin Katharine know about Uncle Cornelius’s woeful past, and they are both eager to remedy his heartbreak if possible.”
“So you’ve been plotting all these months to reunite the long-separated lovers?”
She flashed him a brilliant smile. “Yes—but I have gone as far as I can on my own, which is why I need you, my lord. Someone with your particular skills will have a much better chance than I of locating a fugitive wife after all these years. The midwife could only recall the first name of the lady’s relation in Ireland, not the surname or the county she fled to. I understand that you know Ireland fairly well, since you often purchase horses there.”
“Ireland is a large country,” he parried.
“But since you are a master spy, surely you can find her. And the trail is not entirely cold. Along with the letters I found a miniature portrait of the lady, commissioned by my uncle. Her daughter is her spitting image, except for the eyes and hair, so you would have a likeness to go on. I have the miniature here in my reticule, if you care to see it.”
Hawk deliberately ignored her offer. “Even if I were inclined to help you, I haven’t the time just now.”
Lady Skye nodded sagely. “My aunt told me why you returned to England. You are preparing to make a marriage of convenience.”
“Is there nothing Bella kept to herself?” Hawk murmured, his tone halfway between exasperation and annoyance.
“I told you, you should not blame her,” she replied amiably. “I had to worm the information about your secret organization out of her.” Her smile was rueful, almost apologetic, and completely charming. “When I am determined, I usually get my way.”
Hawk made a scoffing sound, which Lady Skye ignored in turn. “Aunt Isabella is very fond of you, Lord Hawkhurst, and believes you will help me, in part because she says you enjoy a good mystery as much as a challenge.”
Hawk glanced down at the letter on his desk. Bella had indeed predicted that he would relish the challenge and said he would be doing her an immense favor if he were to help her niece.
Amazingly enough, he was actually tempted to agree, and not simply for the enjoyment of testing his skills. He wanted an excuse to delay his courtship. He had no desire to ever marry again, especially to a shy young lady barely out of the schoolroom. Yet he ardently wanted to ensure the league’s future, as well as to fulfill an obligation to Sir Gawain Olwen, the aging leader of the Guardians who hoped to retire shortly.
There was no one Hawk esteemed more. The baronet had not only revived the clandestine league to its original purpose and steered it with a steady hand in the decades-long fight against French domination, he’d become mentor, guide, and fatherly role model to numerous members over the years, particularly Hawk.
Sir Gawain had been his salvation when he was mired in grief, giving him a reason to live by bringing him into the order and training him to be one of its most effective agents. He would have gone half-mad otherwise.
It irked Hawk that Isabella had disclosed so much about his private affairs to Lady Skye. The Guardians’ secrets were not his to share. He’d sworn an oath of allegiance many years ago. Nor could he reveal the real reason he’d chosen to court this particular young lady—because he needed a bride of Guardian lineage in order to take over leadership, as required by the charter. Headquartered on the Isle of Cyrene off the southern coast of Spain, the Guardians of the Sword was centuries old.
Sir Gawain’s great-niece was a blood descendant of one of the original founders, but while she fit the necessary lineage requirements, she was only nineteen and a quiet, gentle girl who seemed afraid of her own shadow and tended to swoon at the slightest provocation. Wedding her was purely a cold-blooded proposition. But to carry on the work of the Guardians, he was willing to sacrifice for the good of the organization. Hawk would be named Sir Gawain’s successor and would lead in his wife’s name and those of his future children, if any.
Therefore, he’d decided to wed the girl, despite his personal disinclinations. Moreover, he had already set events in motion, Hawk reminded himself as he reached for his glass and took a swallow of brandy. He had a path to follow for the immediate future, and it didn’t involve haring off to Ireland, chasing after someone else’s fugitive lover who may or may not still be alive.