He was even gladder to delay beginning his courtship of Sir Gawain’s niece. The onerous chore of wooing a shy young miss held no appeal whatsoever.
Surprisingly Lady Skye made no requests to accompany him on his journey to Ireland. Instead, she claimed to have plenty to occupy her while he was away. She was already supervising his temporary servants and had enlisted the stable hands, including her own grooms, in cleaning and refurbishing the house. And she wrote her cousin Lady Katharine Wilde to ask for help hiring staff from a London employment agency, starting with a permanent housekeeper and butler, although she vowed to leave the final decisions to Hawk.
His plans progressed much as he wished. Even his relationship with his meddlesome houseguest settled into an amiable truce where she no longer pressed him about his past. Skye didn’t seem particularly sorry that he would be leaving, either.
The night before his scheduled departure, he was awakened in the wee hours by a creaking sound outside his bedchamber door. Wondering if perhaps Skye had suffered a recurring nightmare, Hawk went to his door and opened it wide enough to see her tiptoeing down the hall, carrying a partially covered lamp.
“I am returning to my rooms,” she murmured in explanation when she spied him. “I couldn’t sleep so I went downstairs for a glass of warm milk.”
In the dim light, he could just make out her attire. “Then why are you wearing your traveling cloak?”
His suspicious tone didn’t seem to faze her. “I have no proper dressing
gown with me.”
Hawk remembered deciding not to loan her any of his late wife’s garments. He could have offered her one of his own dressing gowns, but picturing Skye in his clothing would only have led to unwanted fantasies about removing it.
When she said a pleasant good night, he made no response. With a frown on his face, Hawk watched her slip inside her room, then returned to his own bed. He rose early, but she must have slept in. He was conscious of a faint, nagging disappointment that Skye was not at breakfast in order to wish him farewell.
When he arrived in the stable yard where his coach and team awaited him, his footman opened the carriage door and stood back. Hawk was halfway inside when he realized the vehicle was already occupied. Lady Skye sat in the far corner, dressed in her traveling gown and cloak. Evidently she had snuck into his coach while he was breakfasting, or perhaps even earlier.
He settled slowly on the seat and shook his head in admiring disbelief. “This was the reason for your midnight endeavor, wasn’t it? You weren’t after warm milk to help you sleep.”
“Oh, but I was,” Skye avowed. “I needed a good excuse in case you caught me roaming the corridors. I put my valise in the boot last night and hid myself here this morning, since I didn’t want you to see me and provoke an argument in front of the servants.”
“Why ever would we argue?” he drawled sardonically.
“Because you will no doubt object to my intentions. I am coming with you to Ireland,” she announced serenely.
“No, you are not.”
“If you wish to stop me, you will have to throw me bodily out of your carriage.”
“Don’t think I won’t.”
“If you do, I will only follow you in my own carriage. And I see no point in doubling the expense of searching for my uncle’s true love.”
“You cannot travel all that distance with me. My inquiries could take a fortnight or more.”
Lady Skye had an answer for that also. “I am not concerned about scandal, remember? To conceal my identity, I will wear a veil in public and pose as your widowed cousin, at least while we are in England. See”—she held up a black bonnet with a swath of black netting—“Mrs. Yeats loaned this to me. It should be adequate to prevent me from being recognized by anyone who happens to know me.”
Hawk felt an urge to grind his teeth. “Your brother will be angry.”
“My brother has no say in this matter,” Skye assured him. “I can manage my own life. Moreover, Quinn will be mollified if we succeed. He loves our uncle and wants his happiness almost as much as I do.”
Her expression grew earnest as she leaned closer to Hawk. “Please, my lord.… Fate played a horrible trick on my uncle, but now I have a chance to set it right. I would never forgive myself if I let it pass by without trying to help.”
“You have already done more than enough.”
“No, I have barely begun.”
Hawk eyed her with a baleful look, half-exasperated and wholly vexed. He believed Lady Skye when she threatened to follow him. He couldn’t let her go haring off to Ireland alone. If nothing else, he would have to protect her from herself.
With a disgruntled sigh, he rapped on the coach roof, giving his coachman the order to start his team. This was not surrender, Hawk told himself. He merely wanted to accomplish his task quickly so he could be rid of Skye and temptation.
“Do you always get your way?” he grumbled when the carriage was moving.
She flashed him a brilliant smile and laughed softly. “Almost always,” she replied without even a pretense of humility.