Page 13 of The General's Gift
“No interactions. No casual encounters. The gardens and house grounds are now off-limits to troopers and officers. Anyone caught trespassing will face immediate disciplinary action.”
Graves nodded. “And during the deployment phase, sir? I imagine several eligible names will surface. The Marquess of Worcester. His Grace, the young Duke of Leighton…”
Hawk’s grip tightened around the window frame. The very name made something twist in his gut. Leighton—young, clever, politically blessed.
“No. She will marry a civilian.” A man untouched by war.
He turned to face them both. “That is why we have phase three: The Summer Ball. If she performs well in early training, we escalate to formal engagement. Her comportment, restraint, and bearing will be observed under pressure. She will attract suitors of appropriate character.”
Nicki rolled his eyes. “Oh, good. The summer ball. Another thrilling evening of tepid punch, waltzes at parade tempo, and the orchestra dismissed before midnight.”
Graves sniffed. “I’ll remind you that the last ball concluded at precisely eleven forty-five. A prudent end time ensures order.”
Nicki grinned. “It ensured a mass exodus to the taverns.”
Hawk didn’t smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
Graves cleared his throat. “Any anticipated obstacles?”
Hawk’s gaze sharpened. Obstacles? Aside from the lady herself? “There will be none. That’s why structure is paramount. Control the variables. Secure the result.”
Graves opened his notebook. “As per your request, a lady’s maid has been secured. Miss Prudence Templeton. Local. Pious. Looks like she could frighten sin itself into retreat.”
“Excellent,” Hawk said. “And the chaperone?”
“Mrs. Rue Archer arrived at dawn. She assured me that no scandal will cross the Stratton name on her watch.”
“She’ll do.” Hawk folded his arms, expression unreadable. “I expect daily reports: progress, setbacks, compliance.”
Nicki snorted. “You sound like you are talking about the French army and not a girl.”
Hawk’s jaw flexed. Her smile haunted him still, a mutiny of the lips that had no place in a disciplined line.
“Make no mistake, Nicki. The French can be beaten in a season, but a girl will wear you down for a lifetime.”
***
At precisely sixteen hundred, Hawk stood by the front door, feet braced apart, hands clasped behind his back. The black traveling chaise came into view, crest glinting in the sun, horses tossing their heads as they pulled onto the circled drive. She was in there. His pulse sped—any moment now, she would be under his roof.
Barking, sharp and frantic, rang through the courtyard.
Hawk’s head snapped left. His hounds had slipped their leashes, leather straps trailing as they tore across the gravel like a cavalry charge gone rogue. A groom lunged and missed. Another scrambled after the straining leads, only to be dragged into dust.
Just then, the chaise jolted to a halt. Hawk’s chest tightened as if an iron rope were constricting him.
Unaware of the catastrophe, the postilion leapt down and opened the carriage door. White tulle spilled into the sunlight like mist over a battlefield. A dainty foot, then the other. She moved as though nothing could touch her. Every inch a prima ballerina descending a royal staircase. Except this wasn’t St. James.
This was hell.
Hawk’s warning came too late.
Lady Cecilia stepped into the courtyard with that ridiculous poodle in her arms.
The dogs saw the creature. And charged home. It could not have been a better formation if Hawk had led it himself, saber in hand.
The girl’s eyes widened. Her pretty lips opened in a high-pitched squeal, and then she ran. Panic in motion. Hawk watched the flurry of tulle coming near, his legs frozen to the spot. A part of him registered ballerinas had more stamina than many men in his regiment. That was the rational part. The animal part was grabbing her and helping her climb atop him, ready to defend her against the Imperial Guard.
A rush of lilac invaded his lungs, and her sweet breath puffed against his throat. If only all the charges he was involved with could smell so nice.
