Hawk relaxed, for Constance, once started upon London gossip, could not be stopped until fatigue overtook her.
Frances merely blinked and let her mind wander. She knew none of the people Lady Constance was speaking about. She caught a wink from her father-in-law, and frowned a bit.
Bea had given up her drawing implications by dinnertime. Well, she had tried.
Frances was dressing for dinner when there came a knock on the adjoining door.
Hawk entered. “You are lovely, my dear,” he said to his wife. “You may go now, Agnes.”
“What have you there?” Frances asked, looking at him in her mirror. He opened a long velvet case and drew out a very green and sparkling emerald necklace.
“To match your eyes, my dear,” he said.
“My eyes are gray!”
“Hummm,” he said. “Hold still.”
She felt his warm fingers against her neck, and felt those ridiculous very warm feelings begin to simmer deep within her, feelings that she had begun to discount during the past days. Odd aberrations, she’d thought.
“What do you think?” he said, backing up a bit.
She stared at the necklace nestled between her breasts. “It is beautiful. Why are you letting me wear it?”
“It is yours. It belonged to my mother and to her mother before her. If you should like the stones reset ...” He shrugged.
“No, it is lovely. Thank you, Hawk.” She rose from her dressing stool and frowned at him. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you giving it to me?”
His eyes were sparkling as brightly as the emeralds. “Green for jealousy,” he said. “I hoped that my very generous gift would nip any ire you were nurturing in your lovely bosom.”
“You mean calm my savage breast because Lady Constance is one of your ... flirts?”
“Exactly. Of course Beatrice dragged her here and has made her most uncomfortable. Be kind to her, Frances, and we shall see her on her way—to her Uncle George—very soon, I don’t doubt.”
“Surely Beatrice can’t think that you would divorce me!”
“Nothing so severe, I imagine. I believe she hoped I would see the light and follow Connie back to London like a panting pup.”
“I wish Beatrice would leave,” she said, and he smiled at her hopeful tone. “And I am not jealous, Hawk!”
“Not even a tiny bit?”
“You, my lord, can have your flirts and I shall have mine!”
“Poor Marcus,” Hawk sigh
ed. “The fellow is beset. You expect him to hold Miss Melcher with one arm and you with the other?”
She flushed, knowing she was so wide of the mark as to be in another county.
“Come, my dear, and give me a kiss before we go downstairs.”
He pulled her gently to him, lifted her chin with his fingers, and lightly kissed her. “Ah, so very long. I suppose I must wait until tomorrow?”
He sounded so wistful that Frances was obliged to smile. “You have been keeping track?”