Hawk looked at the sleepy animal, which was filthy, scrawny, and missing part of an ear. aIall keep it.a aYour fatheras dogs will eat it,a Van predicted.

aI shall have to stand protector.a Hawk climbed into the carriage, cat still bundled in his coat, feeling a maudlin need to protect something.

Clarissa needed advice, and Althea did not seem likely to help with this. Instead, once shead changed from her soiled dress, she sought out her chaperone. Miss Hurstman, as usual, was in the front parlor reading what looked like a very scholarly book.

aMiss Hurstman, may I talk to you? About Major Hawkinville.a The womanas brows rose, but she put her book aside. aWhat has he done?a aNothing!a Clarissa roamed the small room. aWell, heas wooing me. Heas a fortune hunter, Iam sure, even though he says he will inherit his fatheras estate. He admitted that it isnat very large, and heas as good as admitted that he does want to marry me. For my moneya"a She stopped for a breath.

Miss Hurstman studied her. aI assume there is no need for this panic?a Clarissa, suddenly bereft of words, shook her head.

aThen what has caused it?a The womanas calm was infectious. Clarissa sat down. aI didnat plan to marry. I saw no need to. But now, it is beginning to be appealing. You did warn me. I donat know if this all shows a flexible mind, or a weak one.a Miss Hurstmanas lips twitched. aClever girl. The difference between the two can be hard to judge. The main questiona"the only question, reallya"is, Will he make you a good husband for the next twenty, forty, sixty years?a Clarissa could feel her eyes widen at the idea. aI donat know.a aPrecisely. He is a handsome man, and I assume he knows how to please and interest a woman. His father certainly did.a aHis father?a aI knew him when I was young. A dashing military man with an eye to bettering himself.a A fortune hunter. Like father, like son? And yet the father had clearly settled for his modest estate.

Miss Hurstman was looking at her as if she could read every thought. aYou cannot know enough about Major Hawkinville yet to make a rational decision, Clarissa. Time will solve that. Take your time.a aI know, butaa Clarissa looked at the older woman. aYou speak of when you were young. Donat you remember? Just now, reason has nothing to do with it!a Miss Hurstmanas eyes twinkled. aThat, my dear, is why young women have chaperones. Did Lady Vandeimen not play her part?a Clarissa bit her lip, then said, aWe were separated for a little while by a squall of bad weather.a aFor a sufficiently little while, I hope?a aOh, yes. Nothinga nothing truly happened.a Miss Hurstman gave one of her snorts, whether of disapproval or amusement was hard to tell. aI do enjoy an enterprising scoundrel.a Amusement, then. aPanic over?a she asked.

Surprisingly, it was. Perhaps it was simply being away from Hawk, or perhaps it was Miss Hurstmanas dry practicality, but Clarissa didnat feel so caught in swirling madness anymore.

Time. That was the answer to her dilemma over Hawk Hawkinville, and she had no shortage of it other than that created by impatience. She would make herself wait a week or two without commitment. And without being compromised.

She did not fool herself that it would be easy.

She wished she could discuss her other problem with Miss Hurstmana"the matter of Deverilas death, the way she kept speaking of it, the disastrous effects she seemed to have on other peopleas livesa"but her trust did not go so deep as that.

Chapter Eleven.

Hawk entered the Marine Parade house with his friends, but he went straight up to his room with the cat. He hoped to avoid Van, but wasnat surprised when he walked in not long after.

Hawk had taken the cat out of his jacket and was gently checking it for serious injuries.

aWhat are you going to do with it?a Van asked.

They might as well get to the topic at once. aI suspect Miss Greystone will wish me to care for it.a aAnd what Miss Greystone wishes is of importance to you?a aYes.a The damnable thing was that he didnat want to lie to his friend, not even by implication, but he couldnat tell the truth. Above all, he needed time to think.

Surely there had to be some way to save Hawkinville from Slade, and Clarissa from the gallows.

The cat squawked as he touched a sore spot, but it was a polite complaint without claws attached.

aQuite the lady, arenat you?a he murmured.

Van came over. aIs it? Female, I mean.a aYes, and not in bad shape, considering.a He finished his examination and put the cat down on the carpet. After a body-shaking shudder, it picked its way around the room like a tattered lady bountiful inspecting a lowly cottage.

aNo problem with movement at all,a Hawk said. aIn fact, quite a dainty piece. Tolerable quarters for you, your ladyship?a The cat gave him an inscrutable look.

Hawk picked up his jacket and contemplated its sorry state. He hadnat bothered to hire a valet since returning home, but he needed one now.

Van took it and went to the door. aNoons!a he shouted, and in moments his valet appeared, complained about the jacket, and went off to put it right.

The cat had sat to clean itself with dogged persistence.

aTidiness above all. Thatas the spirit,a Hawk said, scooping it up and carrying it to his washstand. There was a slight chance that if he was busy enough Van would put off the talk to another time.

aWhat you are about to get,a he told the cat as he gingerly sat it in the wide china bowl, ais some assistance in the cleaning department. Do not be so rude as to scratch me.a He heard Van laugh and wondered if he was going to get away with it.

The cat had stiffened, but it wasnat frightened.

aBear up like a good soldier,a he said soothingly, and poured a little warm water over the side where blood was thick and sticky. The animal gave a yowl of complaint, but turned its head to lick. aNo, no,a he said blocking its head. aLet me. You can clean up the remains later.a He gently rubbed the blood till it softened, then washed it away under a new dribble of water. He was careful of the gash above it, and to soothe the cat, he kept talking.

aNot all of this blood is yours, is it? You must have done a fair bit of damage. Itas my guess you could take on any rat you wanted. Beneath your dignity, was it, duchess? Risked having your neck broken over it, though, didnat you?a As he started on a patch on one shoulder, Van interrupted his monologue. aWhat exactly are your plans in regard to Miss Greystone?a Hawk hadnat really expected to get away with it.

aIn loco parentis are you?a aAfter a fashion, yes.a Hawk tried a mild deflection. aMarriage is making you damn dull.a Watching, Hawk could see Van control his temper. Damn. When they were boys a comment like that would have led either to a fight or to Van slamming out to work his temper off elsewhere. Either would have cut short the discussion.

They werenat boys anymore.

The cat licked his hand. It was probably a command for more water, so he supplied it, working on another spot.

aMaria thinks she is assisting a courtship,a Van said. aA courtship very much to your advantage. Generous of her, wouldnat you say?a Hawk winced at that one. aI do not necessarily need assistance.a aYou are likely to get it anyway, women being women. The question is, Do you deserve it?a Hawk lifted the cat from the muddy, bloody water and wrapped it in a towel for a quick dry. Though not scratching, it wasnat purring either.

He had to say something. aIam not sure what you mean by that, Van.a Van rubbed a hand over his face. aIam not either. Damn it all, Hawk, Maria likes Miss Greystone. Sheas playing at matchmaking. I donat want her hurt.a Ah, that Hawk could understand.

He put the cat down, and it stalked to a corner and began furiously cleaning itself.

aI donat want anyone hurt, Van. Not even a damn cat. A fine state of affairs for a veteran, isnat it?a aA pretty natural state, Iad say. Whatas going on?a Hawk realized that it was no good. Van wouldnat be deflected, or satisfied with a denial, and a good part of it was probably concern for him. The past was a strange beast. It lay dormant, appearing to be harmless, but it had claws and fangs and leaped up to take another bite at unexpected moments.

A poor analogy. He would embrace the past and the future it promised, if he could.

He would have to tell Van part of it, at least.

He emptied the dirty water into the slop bucket and washed his hands in fresh. aMy father has mortgaged Hawkinville to Josiah Slade.a aThat damned ironmonger? Why?a After a moment, Van asked, aHow much?a Hawk turned to him, drying his hands. aMore than you can afford.a Van smiled. aCome on. Iam not ashamed to use my wifeas money in a good cause.a aHow much of it is left? Maria returned the money that her husband cheated your family out of. Sheas been doing that elsewhere, too, hasnat she? She has her dependents to take care of and Steynings to restore.a aYou think patching the plaster at Steynings is more important than keeping Slade out of Hawkinville? Perdition, head be squire too, wouldnat he? Intolerable! How much?a aTwenty thousand.a Van stared, struck silent.

aEven if you could lend me that much, when could I pay it back? Even squeezing the tenants for every penny, it would take decades.a aBut what option do you have?a Van asked. aYou canat let Sladeaa But then he answered himself. aAh. Miss Greystone.a Lying by implication, Hawk said, aAh, indeed. Miss Greystone.a Van was frowning over it. aDo you love her?a aHow does one know love?a aBelieve me, Hawk, you know. Do you at least care for her?a aYes, of course. But will she marry me without protestations of love?a Will she elope with you, you mean.

Van grimaced. aProbably not.a aWith my fatheras example before me, I am naturally reluctant to woo an heiress under false pretenses.a But wasnat that exactly what he was doing?

The cat came to rub against his leg, miaowing. He scooped it up.

aThe ratter told Clarissa the cat was called Fanny Laycock.a aI see why you had to thrash him.a It was cant for a low whore.

aBut Iad better find another name before she remembers it.a He looked into the catas slitted green eyes. aCare to give me a hint? No, I donat think aYour Highnessa acceptable. I will call you Jetta. You are jet black, and you were jeterad, as the French would say. Getare in Italian, but Iam afraid in Spanish it would merely mean asnout.aa He looked at Van, who was grinning at this byplay. At least head managed to change the subject. aIad better go down to the kitchen and beg some scraps for her. I never thought to ask if you minded a cat in the house.a aNo, of course not. But your fatheras dogs are going to eat her when you take her home.a Hawk looked at the cat again. aSomehow I doubt it.a He didnat escape scot-free. Van left the room with him and said quietly, aI need your word, Hawk, that you wonat go beyond the line with Miss Greystone.a Hawk bit back anger. He had no right to it anyway.

aYou have it, of course,a he said and left, wondering if his friendships, too, were going to die in this bloody mess.

He got milk and bits of chicken for Jetta, then since the cook didnat seem to mind the intruder, he escaped out through the kitchen door. There was no thinking room there, however, so he went round to the street, to the seafront.

He was coatless and hatless, but he didnat care. The rough weather had driven nearly everyone off the seafront anyway, even though it wasnat raining at this moment. The wind still whipped, carrying damp air and even spray off the churning waves. He saw the packet from France bucking its way in and could imagine the state of the poor passengers.

It was good weather for hard thinking, though. Rough and clean.

Did he love Clarissa? He had no experience of love, so how could he know? But Van said head know, so it couldnat be love. Or not that kind of love. His feelings were close to those that he had for Van and Con, and that head had for some other friends in the army.

Friends, then. He and Clarissa were, in a fragile way, friends. He groaned into the wind. That made it worse. Betrayal in love was a theoretical evil. Betrayal of friendshipa And damn it, now Maria and thus Vana"a deep and necessary frienda"were tangled up in the affair.

He reined in his panicked mind. When had his mind last been panicked?

Fact one. Clarissa had at the least been present at Deverilas murder. It was the only rational explanation for her reaction to the knife and her knowing the exact date.

Hypothesis. She might have killed him herself, but it would have been in self-defense, not to get his money.

Was he besotted to think that? No. He hadnat known her long, but he knew her well enough to know she couldnat be a coldhearted, greedy villain. A crime of passion was much more in keeping.

Fact two. If it came out that she had killed a peer of the realm under any provocation, she might hang for it. Or at least be transported. At best, she would have to await trial in prison among the scum of the world.

Therefore, her crime could never be made public.

It settled Hawk to realize that as an absolute certainty.

He would tear down Hawk in the Vale himself before it came to that.

Having reached that bleak point, he found he could think properly again.

What if she had only been witness to the killing? Perhaps someone else had killed Deveril to save her. Did that really fit better, or did he just want it to be so? It was no great improvement. She would still be an accessory to the murder and liable to the same punishment, and he could hardly send a man to trial for defending her.

However, if he could not prosecute anyone for murder, he was unlikely to break the will.

He leaned against a wooden railing, cursing softly into the snarling sea.

Always, always, always was the fact that the will had been forged and planted in Deverilas house. It shattered any illusion of noble deeds. A cunning rogue was behind that, and Hawk couldnat believe that he intended to leave Clarissa in peaceful possession of a fortune.

So, even walking away from Clarissa and leaving her in peace was not an option.

He circled and circled it, and came down to the heart of the matter. He could persuade her to elope.

No question of marrying her in the normal way. As soon as he applied to the Duke of Belcraven his family would be investigated. The most casual search would uncover that his father was a Gaspard, and probably that he was within days of being pronounced Viscount Deveril. Even if Belcraven was willing to permit the marriage, he would tell Clarissa, and that would be that. He wasnat sure she would be able to bear the thought of being Lady Deveril one day, but he knew she wouldnat forgive the deception.

Elope, then. He would have to pretend love, but he was at least very fond of her. He would not be like his father. She would not have cause to complain of neglect. With luck she wouldnat have to be Lady Deveril for a long time, so perhaps it wouldnat be a terrible blow.

But what if it was? What if the blow, in particular the deception behind it, was enough to kill all affection? Would he end up in a marriage as bitter as that of his parentsa, with one lost wedding-night child to show for it?

He could do that to himself for Hawkinville, but not to her. Not to his Falcon, who was in such fledgling flight in search of life.

And anyway, he thought with a wry laugh, head promised Van. He was sure Van would see an elopement as going far beyond the line.

Which brought him, via a sharp sense of loss, back to the killer. Was there, perhaps, another waya ?

Clarissa and Althea were promised to a birthday party being given that evening by Lady Babbington for Florence. Clarissa didnat really want to go, but Florence was an old school friend, and it would do no good to stay home drowning in longing, doubts, and questions. It was to be an event for young ladies only, so at least she wouldnat have to deal with Hawk again.

She found that the Babbingtonsa small drawing room felt almost like the senior girlsa parlor at Miss Malloryas and slid with relief into the uncomplicated past. Soon she was chattering and giggling, and the high spirits continued over dinner since, unlike at school, wine was served with the meal.

Perhaps that was why the after-dinner chatter turned naughty, especially when it was revealed that Florence had made a transcription of The Annals of Aphrodite. As those new to the book huddled to read it, whispering aloud the more exciting phrases, Clarissa wondered how many of them had acquired a little practical experience of the Risen Rod of Rapture.

Then Florence placed letter cards in a bag and invited everyone to pick two to find the initials of their future husband. Clarissa was interested to note how many of the ten young women clearly hoped for a particular set of initials.

Clarissaas heart pounded when her first letter was a G, but then she lost all faith when the second turned out to be a B.

Suggestions were called out.

aGregory Beeston.a aLord Godfrey Breem.a aFlorence,a said one, aisnat your brother called Giles?a aBut heas married,a Florence pointed out.

aIs he still as handsome?a Clarissa asked, and recited her poem. It received great applause, and they all began to put together admiring doggerel.

aGeorge Brummel,a Lady Violet Stavering suggested.

She had been at Miss Malloryas too, but had considered Clarissa beneath her notice. She still liked to cloak herself in an air of bored sophistication and was not taking part in the versification.

aHe could certainly use your fortune, Clarissa,a she added.

Clarissa might sometimes feel at sea in society, but she could swim like a fish in schoolgirl malice. aSo could nearly everyone,a she said, dropping her letters back into the bag. aIncluding your brother, Violet. But I am hardly likely to bestow my riches on an elderly and broken dandy like Brummel. If I enter into trade, I will buy the highest quality.a aSuch as Major George Hawkinville?a purred Lady Violet.

So their meetings had been observed. Clarissa willed herself not to blush. aPerhaps.a But she added, aOr some other young, honorable man.a Florence leaped in with suggestions, and Clarissa regretted the spark of unpleasantness at her friendas party. Soon every eligible man of Brighton was being assessed with startling frankness.

Mr. Haig-Porteras legs were too thin, Lord Simon Rutherfordas fingers too short and fat. Sir Rupert Grange laughed like a donkey, and Viscount Laverley had a chest so narrow it was surprising he could breathe.

aBut a viscount,a said Cecilia Porteous tentatively. aIt is a consideration.a Nearly everyone agreed that a peer of the realm might be excused some flaws.

aEven Lord Deveril,a murmured Lady Violet.

aDonat be a cat, Vi,a snapped Florence. aWe all know poor Clarissa didnat want to marry him.a aAnd we thanked heavens for his timely death,a agreed Lady Violet sweetly.

Clarissa stiffened, wondering if Lady Violet suspected.

But that was ridiculous. She was simply scratching for the fun of it.

She was saved by an interruption from Miriam Mosely. aI donat know how it is that men like Lord Vandeimen and Lord Amleigh, who have both title and physique, are snapped up before they properly appear on the market. I think it vastly unfair!a aBut remember,a said Lady Violet, aLord Vandeimen was thought to be as rolled up as Brummel, and drowning in gaming and drink as well, before he married the Golden Lily.a This was news to Clarissa, and she recognized that Lady Violet had raised it because the Vandeimens were friends of Clarissaas. She would very much like to put snails in Violetas bed. Again.

She hoped the comment would be ignored, but some others demanded details. Lady Violet chose a sugarplum and bit into it. aOh, Vandeimen came home from the war to find his father dead and the estates quite ruined.a aHardly like Brummel, then,a said Clarissa.

Lady Violet was not silenced. aHe consoled himself with drink and the tables, but then had the good fortune to snare the rich Mrs. Celestin. Trade, you know.a aThatas not true!a objected Dottie Ffyfe. aShe married a merchant, but she was born into a good family. Sheas a connection of mine!a Lady Violetas lips tightened, but she shrugged. aA woman moves to her husbandas level upon marriage. First trade. And a foreigner. Then a demon.a She allowed a pause for effect before continuing, aAccording to my brother, in the army he was known as Demon Vandeimen.a Everyone was now leaning forward avidly, and Clarissa felt wretched for having started this. Lord and Lady Vandeimen were both properly behaved and kind, and obviously in love. Someone else who was being tarnished by association with her.

aMy brother says that theyave been close friends forever,a Violet continued, lapping up being the center of attention. aVandeimen and Amleigh. And,a she added with a sly look at Clarissa, aMajor Hawkinville.a Clarissa smiled back in a way that she hoped said she was politely bored to death.

aAll born and raised near here,a Violet continued.

aReggie said that they each have a tattoo on their chest.a Someone gasped. aSaid head seen Lord Amleighas in the army, and been told about the others.a She looked around, licking sugar off her fingers. aA hawk for Major Hawkinville, a dragon for Lord Amleigh.a Then she added, pink tongue circling her lips, aAnd a demon for Lord Vandeimen.a The synchronous inhalation made a kind of oooh around the room.

aWhat a pity,a said Miriam, athat we are unlikely to ever see that.a But Clarissa was thinking how wonderful it would be to see that, because it would mean she was seeing Hawkas naked chest. Impossible, of course, short of marriage.