“Oh, well, in theolddays.” Aubrey waved a dismissive hand, nearly smacking his friend with his spoon in the process. Mr. Hawkins dodged with the apparent ease of long practice. “Now that we are living in supposedly more enlightened times, though, there ought to be a ban on spreadingthatparticular disease.”
“But—”
“Tell me, Miss Tregarth.” Mr. Aubrey fixed his glare upon her. “Has Sir Jessamyn ever belched flame in your presence? Spoken a single word of English or displayed an eccentric fondness for riddles? Can he, in any sense of the word, be described asmagical?” He pronounced the last word with unmistakable distaste.
“Ah…” Elinor turned to Sir Jessamyn. In his eagerness for more chicken, he was hanging halfway off her shoulder, his small, glittering face nearly touching the plate. She pushed him back into place, wincing as his long claws scrabbled against her skin through her cotton gown. “Really, Sir Jessamyn, have some manners!”
“Exactly!” Mr. Aubrey thumped the wooden table with his fist, sending even more ink spattering in all directions. “He is a beast, like any other. Perhaps, many centuries ago, larger specimensmayhave existed in Europe and even England itself. If so, they were no doubt hunted to extinction by louts afraid of their size and strength, who liked to exaggerate the creatures’ danger and abilities as hunters always do. But there was certainly nothing magical about any of them, no matter what anyfairy talesmay say!”
He scooped up a heaping spoonful of curry and rice and shoved it into his mouth, glowering. “Fairy tales,” he finished around a mouthful of lentils. “Ha!”
“Quite so,” Mr. Hawkins said soothingly. “I’m sure Miss Tregarth won’t make that mistake again.” He gave her an apologetic look. “Why don’t you tell us how you came by your own dragon, Miss Tregarth?”
“Ah…” She took a bite of her own, filling her mouth to give herself a moment to think. Sir Jessamyn bumped his chin against her head, letting out a squawk of betrayal. “You can’t haveallof your supper before I even start mine,” she told him as soon as she’d swallowed. “Don’t be greedy.”
Mr. Hawkins laughed. “You certainly seem comfortable with one another. Do you know, of all the ladies I’ve seen this season wearing dragons on their shoulders, you’re the first I ever saw actually talking to one as if he understood you.”
Elinor flushed. “Well, Sir Jessamyn is very intelligent.” Mr. Hawkins glanced down at his waistcoat; her flush deepened. He’d changed clothing since the Incident, of course. His new waistcoat, a flowered yellow satin, was clean and dry. Still... “As soon as he’s learned to control himself a bit better—”
“Oh, I don’t disagree,” said Mr. Hawkins. “Young puppies are much the same. He’s fortunate in having a mistress who understands him. I’ve always thought it one of the oddest quirks of Society nowadays that a third of the creatures in every ballroom are treated as if they were inanimate.” He lifted his glass of wine to her. “I didn’t mean to insult you, Miss Tregarth, on my honour. I admire your integrity.”
Integrity, Elinor reminded herself, hardly carried the same credit as beauty or wit. Still, she couldn’t help the brief burst of warmth that flooded her. She lifted her own glass to hide her embarrassment. “I haven’t had him long,” she said. “I found him in an…untenable situation. We were both in rather awkward situations, actually. So we left. Together.”
“Mm.” Mr. Hawkins regarded her steadily. “It must have been an awkward situation indeed, to send you out onto the open road without a maid or any other chaperone, and with all of your money in one small reticule.”
“Well…” She looked at Sir Jessamyn to avoid looking into the eyes of her cousin’s future fiancé. Sir Jessamyn rubbed his scaly cheek against hers, chirping softly, and she fed him another sliver of chicken.
“I do understand awkward situations,” said Mr. Hawkins gently. “I’m in the midst of one myself, at the moment.”
Regaining control of her expression, Elinor looked back at him. “Is that why you’ve decided to court Penelope?”
“Exactly.” He shrugged, half-smiling. “To be perfectly frank, Miss Tregarth, I’m in rather desperate need of Miss Penelope Hathergill—as are my three younger brothers, my five-year-old niece, and all of the tenant farmers on my father’s estate. Mylatefather’s estate, that is. It’s mine now, at least for the moment…but it won’t be for long if my future fiancée doesn’t take a liking to me. In truth, she is my final hope.”
In other words, he was in desperate need of Penelope’s famous dowry, not her love, in order to settle his father’s debts. Elinor sighed. It was hardly a romantic realization to have about a man who looked like a hero…but she couldn’t help understanding his perspective. After the last twelve months, she had come to understand a great many unromantic facts of life, like it or not.
“Have I shocked you?” Mr. Hawkins said. “I’m sorry for that. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Elinor shook her head. “No. My own parents…” She traced her spoon along her plate while Sir Jessamyn watched, his head snaking out on his long neck to mirror every move she made. “My younger sisters and I were surprised, on their passing, to discover that they had no savings left at all—not even the small dowries they’d always planned for us. It seems that my father had been persuaded to invest all of his capital in a South American investment scheme—”
“The great Brazilian bubble!” Mr. Hawkins let out a crack of laughter that contained no humour. “Our parents were birds of a feather, it seems. Or rather, considering the nature of the scheme, I should say they were dragons of a…hmm. Of a claw? Or perhaps an ear ridge?”
“Yourfather was drawn into the Brazilian scheme, too?” Elinor’s head jerked up; she met his sympathetic gaze. “I could hardly believe it when I found out the truth. To think that anyone could ever imagine making such an unlikely fortune—”
“Dragons were considered to be mythical not five years ago,” Mr. Hawkins said. “I suppose both of our fathers thought there might still be some magic left in them after all. Perhaps yours even imagined that it was his chance to give you all the larger dowries you deserved.” His voice was gentle, but his eyes hardened as he slowly shook his head. “I’d give a great deal to find the blackguard who organized that scheme and then fled with the profits from so many innocents’ livelihoods.”
“Oh, so would I,” Elinor said fervently. “When I think…” She bit her lip to hold back the torrent of passion that wanted to come pouring out.
“We are in a similar predicament.” Mr. Hawkins sighed. “So tell me, Miss Tregarth. What is your scheme for salvation? I’d offer you a wealthy husband, but the only candidate I know of is Aubrey, here. He’s far more interested in dragons than in wedlock, I’m afraid.”
“Hmm,” said Mr. Aubrey vaguely, without looking up. “It’s the wingtips, you see. If you want to talk about domestication...”
Elinor met Mr. Hawkins’s gaze. Her lips twitched. “Mr. Aubreyisvery charming,” she said sincerely, “but I don’t believe I would make him happy.”
The rules of propriety all confirmed that this was an unforgivably vulgar conversation. Indeed, Elinor ought to feel consumed by embarrassment at the very thought of discussing her potential mercenary marriage-hunt with an attractive single gentleman who was no member of her family.
Oddly, though, Elinor realized as she met Mr. Hawkins’s warm and rueful gaze that she felt far more comfortable at this very moment than she had for over six months now…ever since she had said good-bye to her sisters.
Benedict Hawkins mightlooklike a romantic hero, but in fact…
