Secrets of Seduction (Legendary Lovers 3)

“He was shown into the drawing room, m’lord.”

“You did well to tell me, Mrs. Yeats. I shall be along shortly.”

When the door shut softly after the housekeeper, Hawk glanced at Skye, whose look had changed from frustration to worry. “Why ever would Farnwell call here?” she asked.

“I intend to find out.”

“Whatever he means to say to Daphne, I want to be present.”

“As you wish.”

Skye’s brows grew together. “What do you mean to say to him?”

“That depends on what he wants,” Hawk replied as he escorted Skye from the room, feeling a similar frustration but also relief.

By no means were they finished with their argument over his marriage plans, but for the moment they had to postpone their discussion while they dealt with Daphne’s brother, Edgar.

To Skye’s mind, the timing of Baron Farnwell’s interruption could not have been worse. She made a valiant effort, however, to swallow her despair and frustration. Most certainly she wasn’t done trying to persuade Hawk of his folly in deciding to wed Miss Olwen, but she pushed her feelings aside since she wanted to be present in case Daphne needed defending.

Skye and Hawk reached the drawing room in time to overhear a grating male voice uttering an accusatory expletive. Upon entering, they found Daphne standing her ground against a young gentleman of medium height and rather portly build who was dressed like a tulip of fashion. His coat was rose-colored satin, his waistcoat made of gold brocade, and his shirt points so high they reached above his ears. Yet his pugnacious demeanor belied his effeminate attire.

“Lord Farnwell, I presume,” Hawk said in a chilly tone.

Breaking off in vexation, the resplendent visitor snapped as he turned, “Yes, what is it to you?”

“I am Hawkhurst. You dare to swear at a lady in my home?”

Farnwell swallowed, looking somewhat intimidated by Hawk’s tall, imposing form. “Beg your pardon, Hawkhurst,” he said grudgingly.

“Pray state your business,” Hawk ordered.

“I have a personal matter to discuss with my sister.”

Although lavishly garbed, Baron Farnwell boasted nondescript features with dull brown hair and eyes. He was certainly no match for the aristocratic aura of power emanating from Hawk. Indeed, despite his peacock feathers, Farnwell seemed like a wren opposing a fierce bird of prey.

When Hawk repeated his command, the baron grimaced. “I wish to speak to Daphne alone.”

Daphne replied calmly, “But I don’t wish to be alone with you, Edgar. Lord Hawkhurst may hear whatever you have to say, as may Lady Skye. I have no secrets to hide from them.”

Disconcerted and annoyed, Farnwell moderated his belligerent manner only somewhat when he spoke. “I have no intention of airing our intimate affairs, Daphne.”

“Then you may take yourself off.”

He gritted his teeth at his sister. “You know more than you are letting on, I am sure of it.”

“Why would you think so?”

“Because you have always been thick as thieves with Nibbs. As I was saying before we were interrupted”—he shot a derisive glance at Hawk and Skye—“all the fancy carriages at her cottage aroused my suspicions. I wondered why so many noble ladies were visiting Nibbs when she is naught more than an old peasant.”

Daphne pursed her lips in distaste at his description. “Mrs. Nibbs is a very skilled midwife who brought you into the world, Edgar. There is no need to disparage her.”

Skye had been concerned for Daphne, but she was holding her own quite well with her domineering younger brother and resisting his bullying tactics. But his frustration was obviously growing.

“Nibbs claimed your mother did not drown all those years ago.”

Daphne hesitated, as if deciding how to reply. “Did she?”

“Yes, but she refused to say more, no matter how strongly I urged.”