aItas none of your business, Slade, but she heard that her dear friend the Marchioness of Arden was in childbed and wished to be with her. As you said, she is somewhat impetuous.a Slade opened, then shut, his mouth. aAnd the happy event?a he inquired with a disbelieving sneer.

aA son. The heir to Belcraven, born just before dawn.a He heard the Misses Weatherby twittering, as women always did at these events, and of course at the slight vicarious connection to the birth of such an august child.

The birth was just the kind of incontrovertible fact that could glue together almost any lie.

Slade was certainly believing it.

aAnd the money?a he asked stiffly.

Hawk permitted himself a disdainful sneer. aWill be yours, sir, before the due date. I must thank you for being so obliging to my family.a With that, he turned his horse toward the manor, which apparently would survive, along with the heart of Hawk in the Vale. At the moment, he felt no satisfaction. He did not dismiss the value of preserving the village, but he did not dismiss the cost, either.

As he dismounted in the courtyard the scent of roses met hima"sickeningly. He left the horse to the groom and strode swiftly inside.

aGeorge? Whereas your bride?a His father stood in the doorway to the back parlor, leaning on a stick.

aIsnat it more a case of whereas the money?a aDefinitely, definitely. You have it? If so, we can start planning the celebration.a aGo to the devil,a Hawk snapped, then quickly reined in his temper before it drove him into something else to be ashamed of. aI have the money to pay off Slade, but there is no extra, my lord.a aThere is always more money, my boy! I thought a fete similar to that one Vandeimen threw for his wedding. But more regal. Full dress. A processiona"a Hawk turned to go up the stairs. aYou will, of course, do exactly as you wish, sir. I have no interest in it.a aDamn your eyes! And where is your bride, eh? Lost her already?a Hawk paused on the landing. aPrecisely, sir.a He entered his room tempted to sink into the darkness, but he had done this for a cause, and the cause went on. He opened his campaign desk. The familiar paper and pens swept him back to his other life. He thought there might even be a trace of smoke and powder trapped in the wood.

Why had the skills that had carried him through challenging and even torturous tasks in the army failed him here?

He picked up the flattened pistol ball that had been his constant reminder that blind luck played a huge part in fate. Perhaps this time his luck had run out.

But, no, that wasnat it. In the army head usually worked toward a single imperative. Head had no personal stake, and a good part of his skill had been in blocking out all distractions of fact or sentiment.

In fact, this campaign was a resounding success.

Hawkinville was safe.

He deserved a medal.

He wrote a Spartan letter to Arden thanking him for his assistance and requesting that he arrange for the money to be available at his Brighton bank before the end of the month. Then, with distaste, he wrote a note to Slade requesting the name of the institution where his money should be deposited.

He went downstairs and sent a servant off with it.

And that, pretty well, was that.

All that was left was the rest of his life.

He walked out of the house at the back, and down to the river, but the ducks must have been enjoying some other part of the water, and heavy clouds were drifting between the earth and the sun. It seemed symbolic, but he knew the sun would shine another day and the ducks would return.

Only Clarissa would be perpetually absent.

Was there any chance that she would relent once the shock wore off? He couldnat bear to hope. If he did, he thought he would be frozen in time, waiting.

He heard a footstep and turned.

Vanas fist caught him hard on the jaw and flung him backward into the river.

He sat up spluttering, hand to his throbbing jaw, tasting blood from the inside of his cheek. Van waited, icy.

aIf you hit me again,a Hawk said, aIall have to fight back.a aYou think you can win?a aWould anyone win?a Van glared at him, but the ice was cracking a little. aWhatas this claptrap about Clarissa going to Lady Ardenas lying-in?a Hawk decided he could probably stand up without having to kill Van and did so. aAs a story it can hold if not challenged too strongly.a That was a hint, and he saw Van take it.

aWhat did happen?a His boots were full of water. aI tried to elope. I evaded pursuit, but made the mistake of staying the night in Ardenas home village.a A crack of laughter escaped Van. aWellington would have your guts!a aThe thought has occurred to me. I forgot, I assume, that I was at war.a The ducks chose that moment to scoot quacking along the river, perhaps drawn by the splash. One duckling scuttled over to peck at his boots.

Hawk looked down contemplatively. aIt seems to be my day for being attacked by animals.a aAre you referring to me?a Hawk smiled slightly. aIs a demon an animal?a With a shake of his head, Van stuck out his hand. Hawk took it and climbed out of the river to drip on the bank.

aWhat happened?a Van demanded. aThe whole truth.a aIam not going to add pneumonia to my other follies. Come inside and Iall tell you as I change.a Hawk discarded his boots by the back door and left wet prints as he padded along the flagstoned corridor and up the stairs. aMind your head,a he said as he went into his room.

Van ducked just in time, then flung himself into the big leather chair with old familiarity. The three of them had rarely chosen the manor over Steynings or the Court, but they had spent some time here, mostly in this room.

aYou gave me your word that you wouldnat ruin Clarissa.a Hawk stripped, piling his sodden clothes in his washbasin to spare the wooden floors. aI said, if I remember, that I would not ruin her that day.a He kept a careful eye on Vanas fists. aI did not mean to be specious, but as it happens, I kept to the letter of my promise.a aAnd yesterday?a aAnd yesterday, I did not.a He toweled himself dry. aWe were, however, on our way to our wedding. Except that we were stopped.a aBy Arden. You donat seem to have been bruised before now.a aMy golden tongue.a aAgainst Arden, when he found you bedding a woman he has to regard as being within his protection?a aWe werenat bedding at that moment,a Hawk pointed out, pulling clean clothes out of drawers. aAnd,a he added, aCon was there. And Clarissa.a aDidnat want to create a fuss in front of her?a aCouldnat get through her would be more exact. This was before she realized the truth, of course.a He pulled on his breeches, fastened them, and sat down. aShe had no idea the will was a forgery, Van. No idea at all.a Van looked at him for a moment, unusually thoughtful. aWhat now?a aNow I pay off Slade with Ardenas money. It must be pleasant to be able to afford such lordly gestures, and it seems the Rogues wish to arrange to cover it.a He explained the arrangements.

aBut what of your father? He accosted me in the hall, chortling about outranking me. And going on about a grand fete to beat my wedding celebration.a Hawk sighed. aI deserve a penance, and I certainly have one.a After a moment, Van said, aAt least youare free of that Mrs. Rowland. She packed her household into Old Mattas cart yesterday and headed away.a The part of him that was still the Hawk stirred at that. aDo we know why?a aNot that I know. The general feeling is, good riddance.a aI agree, but I meant to visit her poor husband in case something could be done for him.a aI tried a few weeks back. I forced it as far as a glimpse into his room. I think heas done for. Haggard and frail. I gather there was a dreadful blow to the head.a aPoor man.a But at the moment Hawk couldnat feel strongly about it. He couldnat feel very much of anything except loss and pain.

aDo you love her?a Van asked.

Instinctive defense almost had him denying it. aYes, but itas completely impossible. Apart from my behavior, can you imagine her here with my father insisting on being Lord Deveriled at every turn, and complaining endlessly of not enjoying his true splendor at Gaspard Hall?a aBut her moneya ?a aThe clear impression is that she would rather eat glass than take a penny of stolen money, and knowing Clarissa, Iam sure sheall stick to her guns.a Hawk couldnat speak of her without becoming maudlin. He surged to his feet and put on his shirt. He couldnat be bothered to go further than that. aConvey my apologies to Maria. What of Miss Trist?a aMaria and Lord Trevor returned her to Brighton, I understand. Doubtless not looking forward to explaining the situation to Miss Hurstman.a Van rose too. aNicholas Delaney is here, by the way. Staying at the Court with his wife and child. I suspect heall want a word with you, too.a aSo Con said. Iam sure I have enough unmarked skin to go around. Are you off for Brighton, since Mariaas there?a aYes. Will you be coming in?a aWhat for?a Van grimaced, gripped his arm for a moment, then left.

Hawk went to his window to contemplate ducklings.

Clarissa, dressed in one of Bethas simpler gowns, was attempting to consume a bowl of soup in a spare bedroom while waiting for Con to return with a carriage. Shead suggested that they use the gig, but head insisted that she have something better for the journey to Brighton.

The soup was a tasty mix of chicken broth and vegetables, and doubtless nourishing, but she was having trouble finishing it. Tears prickled around her eyes almost constantly, and Hawkas letter was a sharp-edged presence in her pocket.

After a rap, the door opened and Beth came in.

Clarissa leaped to her feet. aBeth, you shouldnat be up!a aDonat you start pestering me,a Beth said, sitting at the table. aSit down. Eat.a aYou look very well,a Clarissa said, and Beth did. She was in a loose dressing gown with her hair in one long plait, but she looked much the same as always.

aI am well. It went easily, and I have done considerable research. There is no reason for women to lie around for days or even weeks after a healthy birth. Such a practice quite likely encourages debility. That and lack of fresh air and exercise during pregnancy. I walked at least a mile every day.a Clarissa chuckled, and some of the sodden sadness lifted. aAnd the baby?a Bethas face lit up. aPerfect, of course. You must come and see him when youare finished.a Clarissa had no reluctance about abandoning the soup. aIam finished. I canat wait.a Beth beamed and led the way down the corridor to the nursery. aThis is next door to our bedchamber,a she said softly, as a maid rose from a chair by the cradle to curtsy.

She led the way over to the grand gilded cradle swathed in blue satin. Inside, a tiny swaddled baby slept. To Clarissa he looked rather grumpy, but she whispered that he was beautiful.

Beth picked him up, and the tiny mouth opened and shut a few times, but then the baby stilled again. She carried him into the bedroom and shut the door. aItas ridiculous, but I feel as if I am stealing him,a she said to Clarissa. aHe has a staff of three, and that was only after a battle royal. Lucien canat imagine why he shouldnat have his own liveried footman! I have had to be very firm to have time to myself with him.a Clarissa smiled. aHeas only eight hours old and youare already at war.a aIave been establishing the rules for months, but they still must be implemented.a She grinned, however, as she sat down in a rocking chair, her baby in her arms.

Once settled, she gave Clarissa a clear look. aNow, tell me everything.a aWonat we wake the baby?a aNot unless you plan to shriek. Anyway,a she said, looking down at her child, aI wonat mind if he wakes. He has the most beautiful huge blue eyes. Iam feeding him, you know. Itas a bit sore at the moment, but itas wonderful.a She touched the babyas cheek, and he made little sucking movements but didnat wake.

Clarissa was sure Beth didnat really want to hear about the distressing debacle. But then Beth looked up, all schoolteacher. aOut with it, Clarissa. What have you been up to?a By the end of the story the baby had awakened, squawked a little, and been put to the breast, with some winces. Beth had told her to keep telling her tale.

Now she asked, aWhat is your intention now?a aNot to take any of that money. Iam resolved on that. I still canat believe the Rogues would steal.a She thought that Beth was wincing at the suckling, but then she said, aIt was my idea, actually. Forging the will.a aYours!a Clarissa exclaimed, close enough to a shriek for the baby to jerk off the breast and cry. By the time Beth had him soothed and on the other breast, Clarissa was calm again. Astonished, but calm.

aWhy?a aWhy not? Everyone said Deveril had no heir. You needed money. I was afraid even Lucien wouldnat be able to stop your parents from selling you in some way or another.a aBut itas a crime.a Beth pulled a laughing face. aI must be of a criminal inclination, then. I even took part in the planting of the will at Deverilas house. Blanche and I acted the part of whores.a Clarissa gaped, and Beth chuckled. aLucien was dumbfounded too. I wore a black wig, lashings of crude face paint, and a bodice that just barely covered the essentials.a aDumbfoundeda summed it up, especially since Beth seemed to be recalling a delightful memory.

aDo you think I should keep the money, then?a Beth sobered. aIt is more complicated now, isnat it? There is a new Lord Deveril, and without our interference he would have inherited it all.a She considered Clarissa. aI am not clear how you regard Major Hawkinville at this time.a aProbably because Iam not clear either. My heart says one thing. My mind shouts warnings. We were warned often enough at school about the seductive wiles of rascals and the susceptible female heart.a aTrue,a said Beth, but with a rather mysterious smile. aBut itas as much a mistake to expect perfection from a man as it is to tumble into the power of a rake. After all, can we offer perfection? Do we want to have to try?a aHeaven forbid. He wrote me a letter.a aWhat did it say?a aI havenat read it yet.a aThereas no need to make a hasty decision, my dear, but reading the letter might be a good start.a The door opened then and Lord Arden walked in. He halted, and looked almost embarrassed, perhaps because he was in an open-necked shirt and pantaloons and nothing else. Not even stockings and shoes.

But then he looked at his wife and the baby, and Clarissa saw that nothing else mattered.

As he went over to Beth, she slipped out of the room, certain of one thing. She wanted that one day. To be a new mother with the miracle of a child and a husband who looked at her and the child as Lord Arden had looked.

And she wanted it to be Hawk.

She went back to her cold soup to read his letter, then cooled the soup some more with tears. Neat, crisp folds and neat, crisp phrases, but then those poignant perhapses.

Or were they simply the pragmatic analysis of the Hawkas mind?

If only she had some mystical gift that would detect the truth in another personas heart.

Chapter Twenty-seven.

The trip by carriage took a lot less time than the wandering journey that had carried Clarissa and Hawk to the fateful village. Con, wonderful man, did not attempt conversation, but eventually she weakened and asked him about Hawk.

His look was thoughtful, but he talked. She saw their childhood from another angle. The bond was still there, and the fun, but they were shaded by Conas exasperation with his wilder friends. Lord Vandeimen, it was clear, had always been given to extremes, inclined to act first, think second. Hawk, on the other hand, had thought too much, but relished challenges. He had also lacked a happy home.

She learned more about his parents. Though Con was moderate in his expressions, it was clear that he despised Squire Hawkinville and merely pitied his wife.

aShe was hard done to,a he said, abut it was her own folly. Everyone in the village agrees that she was a plain woman past any blush of youth. Would the sudden appearance of a handsome gallant protesting adoration not stir a warning?a He clearly had no idea how his words hit home to her.

aHe must have been very convincing,a she said.

aSuch men usually are. When the truth dawned, she would have been wiser to make the best of it.a aWhy? To make it easier for him?a He looked at her. aThat was her attitude, Iam sure. But she only made matters bitter for herself, her child, and everyone around her. There was no changing it.a aAnd she couldnat even leave,a Clarissa said. aIt was her home.a And perhaps she, too, had loved Hawkinville.

Con said, aItas made Hawk somewhat cold. Not truly cold, but guarded in his emotions. And heas never had a high opinion of marriage.a Clarissa was aware of the letter in her pocket. Guarded, perhaps, but not well. And not cold. And he wanted marriage.

Could it all be false?

She didnat think so.

Con called for the carriage to stop, and she saw they were at a crossroads. aWe can turn off here for Hawk in the Vale,a he said.

aNo.a She wasnat ready yet. She was determined to be thoughtful about this.

aI was thinking more that we could go to my home, to Somerford Court. We donat even have to go through the village to get to it from here. Nicholas Delaney is there, and Iam sure head like to speak to you. We can send a note to Miss Hurstman and go on to Brighton tomorrow.a Clarissa was certainly in no rush to return to Brighton. aWhy not? I wouldnat mind a word with him, either.a The Court was almost as charming as Hawkinville Manor, though centuries younger, but Clarissa was past caring about such things. Conas wife, mother, and sister were welcominga"Conas wife insisted on being Susana" but it couldnat touch her distraction. Nothing in the world seemed real except her and Hawk and her dilemma.

And stopping where he was mere minutes away had not been a good idea.

Nicholas Delaney took one look at her and suggested that they talk, but ordered a wine posset for her. As she went with him into a small sitting room, she said, aIam not hungry.a aYou need to eat. You canat fight well on an empty stomach.a aIam likely to fight you. This is all your fault.a aIf you wish, but I think the blame can be well spread around. Thereas nothing so weak as aI meant well,a but in this everyone meant well, Clarissa.a aNot Hawk. Hawk wanted my money. Iam not touching it.a That should shake his complacency.

aAs you wish, of course,a he said. aIam sure Miss Hurstman can find you a position pandering to a not-too-tyrannical old lady.a She picked up a china figurine and hurled it at him.

He caught it. aIt would be foolish to be wantonly poor, Clarissa, and no one has a greater right to that money than you.a aWhat about Hawkas father?a She made herself say it. aThe new Lord Deveril.a aOnly by the most precise letter of the law.a He put the figurine on a small table. aSit down, and Iall tell you where that money came from.a She sat, her revivifying anger sagging like a pricked bladder. aFrom Lord Deverilas unpleasant businesses, I assume.a aHe might have increased it a bit that way, but even vice is not quite so profitable in a short time.a Clarissa listened in amazement to a story of treason, embezzlement, and pure theft.

aThen the money belongs to the people this woman got it from. Except,a she added thoughtfully, athey would hardly want to claim it, would they?a aThey could be found. Therese happily gave up a list of their names once she had no more use for them. In the end the government settled for letting them know that they were known. Many of them fled the country, and I donat think those that remain would want to be reminded of their folly.a aThe Crown, then.a aThe Regent would love it. It would buy him some trinket or other. But by what excuse can the money be given to the Crown?a She was arguing for the sake of arguing, because she was angry with them all. aWhen Iam twenty-one, I can do with it as I wish.a aOf course. I arranged it that way. In retrospect, that was an indulgence. It apparently gave Hawkinville reason to doubt the will.a He smiled. aIt does seem unfair that women at twenty-one are considered infantile, when men at the same age are given control of their affairs.a aThat sounds like Mary Wollstonecraft.a aShe made some good points.a There was a knock on the door, and a maid came in with the steaming posset. When shead left, Clarissa decided not to be infantile. She sat at a small table and dipped in her spoon.

Cream, eggs, sugar, and wine. After a few mouthfuls she did begin to feel less miserable. aThis will have me drunk.a He sat across the table from her. aProbably why itas excellent for the suffering invalid. There are times when a little inebriation helps.a She looked at him. aWhat do you want me to do?a He shook his head. aI have put you in charge of your own destiny.a She took more of the posset, and the wine untangled some of her sorest knots.

aIam afraid of making a fool of myself.a aWe all are, most of the time.a She glanced up. aFor life? How does anyone make choices?a aOf marriage partners? If people worried too much about making the perfect choice, the human race would die out.a aNot necessarily,a she pointed out, and he laughed.

aTrue, but it would be a chaotic system. Marriage brings order to the most disorderly of human affairs.a aBut there are many bitter, corroding marriages. Hawkas parents, for example. And mine.a aTrue fondness, goodwill, and common sense can get us over most hurdles.a She spooned up the last of the sweet liquid, and the wine probably gave her courage to ask a personal question. aIs that what your marriage is like?a He laughed. aOh, no. My marriage is one of complete insanity. But I recommend it to you, too. Itas called love.a Love.

aPerhaps I should see Hawk,a she said, a warm spiral beginning to envelop her in betraying delight.

But Delaney shook his head. aI think weall wait an hour or so to see if thatas only the wine talking.a He rose. aMeanwhile, come and meet my insanity. Eleanor, and my daughter, Arabel.a As they went to the door he said, aWould you be able to call me Nicholas?a aIn what circumstances?a she teased.

aDamned tenses. I would like it if you would call me Nicholas. I think you are by way of being an honorary Rogue.a Con, and Nicholas. New friends. And her acceptance of it was something to do with Hawk, and with Lord Arden.

aNicholas,a she said, but she added with a giggle, aIam not sure I can call Lord Arden Lucien, though.a aDefinitely the wine,a he said, guiding her out of the room. aThe number of people to call Arden Lucien is small. If not for the Rogues it might be down to onea" his mother.a aAnd Beth, surely.a aPerhaps.a She understood. Without the Rogues, Lord Arden might not be the sort of husband Beth would call by his first name. He might be the sort who expressed every sour emotion with his fists.

aPerhaps I should call Hawk George,a she said. aLess predatory. But then he wouldnat call me Falcon.a Nicholas shook his head. aWe must definitely wait an hour.a Eleanor Delaney was a handsome woman with a rooted tranquility that Clarissa admired. Of course, it must be easy to be tranquil with a husband such as Nicholas. Clarissa was sure he had given her no trouble, told her no lies.

Arabel was a charming toddler in a short pink dress showing lace-trimmed pantalettes. Her chestnut curls were cut short, and she was playing with a cat that Clarissa recognized.

aJetta!a The cat reacted to the name, or perhaps to her. Whichever, Clarissa certainly received a cold stare. Lord above, was a cat capable of fixing blame for the loss of its hero?

aIt was thought to be in danger from the manor dogs, so I brought it up here.a Nicholas swooped up his daughter and carried her, laughing, over to be introduced. Clarissa saw identical sherry-gold eyes.

Arabel smiled with unhesitating acceptance. a aLo!a aNot the beginning of an ode,a said Nicholas, abut her greeting.a The child turned to him, beaming, to say, a aLo! aLo! aLo!a But then she said, aPapa. Love Papa.a Clarissa almost felt she should look away as Nicholas kissed his daughteras nose and said, aI love you too, cherub.a Insanity.

Love.

Heaven.

But then Arabel turned to her and stretched out. Astonished, Clarissa took the child and duly admired the wooden doll clutched in one fist. Nicholas went to talk to Eleanor, and the child didnat turn to look.

What blithe confidence in love that was, that never doubted, or feared the loss of it. Would she ever feel that way?

Then Arabel squirmed to get down and led the way back to the cat and some other toys. Clarissa sat on the carpet and played, discovering one certainty.

She wanted a child.

She wanted to be married to Hawk and have Hawkas children, but if that didnat happen, she wanted to be a mother. A married mother.

She tried to imagine being married to someone else.

It didnat seem possible, but time must have an effect on that. What was the difference between a wild passion and an eternal love?

Easier by far to play with the child than to tussle with adult problems.

But then Mrs. Delaney insisted that it was bedtime. When she came to pick up her daughter, she said, aI understand that you are a Rogue now. I hope you will call me Eleanor.a Clarissa scrambled to her feet, not quite so comfortable with this informality, but she agreed.

aAnd if you want a woman to talk to,a Eleanor Delaney said, aI am a good listener. No hand at good advice, you understand, but we can often work these things out for ourselves once we start, canat we?a She carried the child away, and Clarissa glanced at the clock.

aStill half an hour to go,a Nicholas said.

She pulled a face, but said, aThen I think Iall walk in the garden and talk to myself.a She expected a comment, but he only said, aBy all meansa"if you promise not to sneak down to the village.a She glared, but the thought hadnat occurred to her. It was a very little time to wait, and she knew it was wise to see if her forgiveness seeped away with the effects of the posset.