Tall, Dark... Collection

Surely he would not have to spend the entire evening fending off the other man’s attentions from one or the other?

‘If you are sure, Your Grace?’ Jane answered him huskily.

‘I am very sure, Jane,’ Hawk confirmed tersely, and he turned his gaze reluctantly away from Arabella and Whitney.

Jane’s hand trembled slightly as it rested on the Duke’s arm, and her face felt flushed as the other guests turned to watch the formidably arrogant Duke of Stourbridge escorting her, a young woman with whom none of them were as yet acquainted, through to the formal dining room.

Neither could she help but notice the narrowed blue gaze of the Earl of Whitney as he too turned to watch the two of them. It was an intense blue gaze that was fixed firmly on Jane. And, unless she was mistaken, not in the least rakishly.

She was aware of his shrewd gaze several times during dinner, but deliberately ignored it. The Earl even smiled at her in a frankly conspiratorial manner on one occasion, as if encouraging her to share with him the joke of such pompous formality. Jane did not so much as acknowledge the smile as she turned her attention to Lord Croft, where he sat to the left of her at the table.

The Duke presided over the head of the table, of course, with Arabella, as his hostess, seated at the other end. Arabella had placed Jane between Lord Croft and his son Jeremy. Both men were charming and affable as they easily put her at her ease. The younger man was especially attentive after learning that Jane had spent her early years in Somerset, proceeding to talk knowledgeably about the area from memories of his own visits there as a child.

But still Jane could not help but be aware of the intensity of the Earl of Whitney’s interest as he sat across the table from her, listening intently to her conversation rather than taking any part in it…

Hawk found his attention wandering constantly from the dry wit of Lady Pamela’s conversation. Instead he watched Jane with a brooding intensity. The fact that several other men were looking at her as intently, the Earl of Whitney and Jeremy Croft but two of them, caused his brows to draw together darkly.

‘Miss Jane Smith has become quite the darling of the evening, has she not?’ Lady Pamela commented dryly.

‘What?’ Hawk turned to bark tersely.

His friend and neighbour arched teasing brows at his obvious irritation. ‘I was commenting on the fact that Miss Smith seems to hold my husband entranced, my son beguiled, my brother amused and the Duke of Stourbridge mesmerised,’ Lady Pamela drawled.

Hawk frowned at her. ‘You are imagining things, Pamela.’

‘I do not think so.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Can it be possible that the elusive Duke of Stourbridge has at last settled on his choice of bride…?’

Bride?

Could Pamela possibly be referring to Jane…?

‘Do not be ridiculous, Pamela.’ He snapped his impatience at the absurdity of her suggestion that he could seriously be contemplating making Jane his Duchess. ‘Jane Smith is my ward, not my future bride.’

‘Really?’ Pamela drawled derisively. ‘In that case, Hawk, and unless you wish others to make the same assumption I did, I would advise you not to spend quite so much of your time staring at her in that hungrily devouring way.’

‘Now you are being deliberately provoking, Pamela,’ Hawk bit out harshly, before emptying his wine glass and motioning for it to be refilled.

‘And you are drinking far more wine than usual this evening, too, Hawk.’As a friend of his mother, and his closest neighbour these last thirty years, Lady Pamela felt no hesitation in speaking her mind to him whenever she chose.

Hawk bared his teeth in a humourless smile. ‘When I wish for your advice, Pamela, be assured I will ask for it!’

She gave a softly indulgent laugh. ‘Be assured, Hawk, you will receive it whether it is asked for or not!’

Hawk gave a rueful shake of his head, knowing that there was no point in arguing with Pamela—that since the death of his own mother Pamela had chosen to take on that role for herself.

Could there possibly be some basis for her observation concerning the way in which he had been watching Jane? Had his gaze been ‘mesmerised’ and ‘hungrily devouring’…?

Surely not?

Admittedly, he had not liked Whitney’s attentions to her earlier, and nor did he particularly care for the way that Pamela’s own son was paying Jane such marked attention, but surely that was no reason for Pamela to imply that his own interest was any more personal than any guardian for his charge?

No, of course it was not, he assured himself determinedly. He was merely concerned for Jane, that was all. Because she was young and innocent, and could have no idea of the danger a man with Whitney’s reputation represented to that innocence.

It was an ignorance Hawk had every intention of correcting as he made his way immediatately to Jane’s side once dinner was over, when she and all the other guests were making their way to the small ballroom where dancing was due to commence.

Unfortunately for Jane, an hour of watching as both Jeremy Croft and the Earl of Whitney seemed to become more and more captivated by her every word had not diminished the force of Hawk’s temper in the slightest.

‘I think it might be as well, Jane, if for the remainder of the evening you were to refrain from flirting with every man in the room under the age of sixty!’ Hawk bit out harshly as he glared down at her.

Jane gave a gasp, her face paling at the unexpectedness of the Duke’s attack. In fact she had been quietly congratulating herself on having successfully negotiated the intricacies of social behaviour, and now the Duke was accusing her of doing the opposite.

She returned his glare unblinkingly. ‘I have not yet had the opportunity to flirt with you, Your Grace!’

‘Neither will you, if you know what is good for you!’ Those gold eyes glittered warningly.

Jane looked up at him challengingly. ‘Could you possibly be threatening me, Your Grace?’

His jaw was clamped tightly together. ‘I am trying to assist you, Jane—’

‘By insulting me?’

‘By advising you.’

‘I was mistaken, then, Your Grace. For your advice sounded distinctly like an insult to me!’ Jane breathed indignantly.

Hawk’s nostrils flared angrily. ‘You—’

‘Sorry to interrupt your little tête-à-tête with your ward, Stourbridge, but perhaps I might have your permission to invite Miss Smith to dance?’ the Earl of Whitney interrupted smoothly.

Hawk turned a quelling glance on the older man, having every intention of telling Whitney that he most certainly did not have his permission to dance with Jane. Or indeed to do anything else with her!

‘I do not need the Duke’s permission to dance, My Lord.’

Jane was the one to answer before Hawk had a chance to do so, not sparing Hawk so much as a second glance as she took the other man’s arm and allowed herself to be taken onto the dance floor.

Leaving Hawk no choice but to stand impotently by and watch as the rakish Earl of Whitney took a hold of Jane’s hand and led her confidently into the dance.

An unpleasant image that was reflected back at Hawk many times over from the mirrors that adorned the walls of the small ballroom at Mulberry Mall.

‘I am so pleased to see that Jane is enjoying herself.’ Arabella spoke softly beside Hawk.

Hawk turned to scowl at his young sister—who, as hostess, should have been on the dance floor herself. ‘Whitney is hardly a suitable companion for her to be enjoying herself with!’

Arabella looked up at him steadily for several seconds, before allowing a knowing smile to curve her lips. ‘So, Lady Pamela was right in her assertion that you are far too interested in your young ward,’ she murmured with satisfaction.

‘I—’

‘I must admit I was a little taken aback when Lady Pamela described Jane as such,’ Arabella continued lightly. ‘I had not realised. Exactly when did Jane become your ward, Hawk?’ She arched blonde brows.