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untied his cravat before pouring himself a brandy with palsied hands. He made an awkward, confined pace about the room, twice or thrice, the better to tire to the point of exhaustion.
    As he helped Alex from her clothing, he had ached for her corresponding ministrations, her cool fingers against his heated skin, as he had touched her, for her tenderness to be directed toward his comfort, her gaze toward his face, when all the while, she had been unable to bear the sight of him and looked away, instead.
    Why had she said she was disappointed he would not ravish her? Was she teasing? Was she that angry with him?
    Perhaps he was making a horrendous mistake in letting her go…. Once upon a time, she had liked him enough to marry him. Perhaps she had even wanted him, then.
    Perhaps she wanted him still.
    Hawk damn near laughed. Perhaps delirium had once again set in….
    Was she toying with him? Being facetious? She had, after all, liked Chesterfield enough to marry him, as well.
    Hawk cursed. Here he was worried about her, trying to do what was best for her, while she was shaking the foundation of his conviction and undermining his altruistic intentions. Why could he not sense what she wanted?
    Likely not him. Not anymore. No, he must give her that annulment as soon as may be, and free her from his abysmal self, though not so soon that Chesterfield might still be unattached when he did.
    That part of his plan, he must alter.
    When he had returned to England, weak, scarred, and furious at fate, he assured himself that his family was well. And when he was convinced they were, he delayed notifying them of his return. He could not ask them to endure the daily reminder of his failure—his scars, his very presence.
    He had gone to the aid of his sister-in-law, Sabrina, and of Gideon St. Goddard—another rogue of the club—the husband he secured for her when he thought he was dying.
    To get himself declared alive again, Hawk petitioned the House of Lords, and parliament in general, even the Prince Regent and a score of his advisers and friends, Tory and Whig alike. Some, Prinny would have at his side, were it not for the mad King’s sane moments, had more influence than perhaps was good for England.
    Since Hawk’s father’s solicitor was unavailable, he sought another to notify Baxter Wakefield, his cousin and heir, that he lived. Hawk did it all, anything and everything he could, to avoid facing his family with his disagreeable self. By then, he had concluded that for Alexandra’s sake, he must release her from their marriage.
    Then he heard that she was about to remarry.
    That she loved someone else was all the more reason to let her go, though he could not allow her to commit bigamy. And so he had gone to stop her wedding.
    Now, for the sake of his nieces, he must take up his responsibilities as planned and proceed as if his marriage to Alex would continue. This would give Claudia and Beatrix a chance to get used to having him back. He would encourage them to depend more upon him and less upon Alex.
    When the paperwork reinstating him as the Duke of Hawksworth bore fruit, and what was left of his wealth, title and estates reverted to him, he would move his family from Huntington Lodge, Alex’s family home, back to Hawks Ridge, his own estate. By then, his nieces would perhaps be dependent upon him again and less destroyed by Alexandra’s departure from the bosom of their family.
    Also, by then, Chesterfield might have married another.
    More than anything in this world, Hawk wanted to keep Alexandra for himself. Second to that, he would keep her for his family. But with no choice but to give her up, he must at least keep her safe in their marriage, until Judson Broderick, Viscount bloody Chesterfield was absolutely out of the running for her hand.
    No matter her seeming indifference to his scars, Hawk would not sit back and let Alexandra’s apathy, in the face of his appearance, turn to valor, which would most assuredly