His gaze did not leave my face as he took it and slipped it gracefully into the envelope—none of that awkward business of the paper getting caught on the rough, open edge. “Thank you,” he said. “Of course,” I answered. A thousand questions came to mind. Who is she? Is it an attachment of long standing? Is it an attachment? Why is Everything Hawkes part of a riddle? I bit my tongue. However tempting the questions. This was Hawkes, after all. Not one of those run-of-the-mill dukes or photographers that one encounters these days. “You look pleased, Miss Lion.” “Mildly triumphant.” My breath was
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Every scene with them I just EAT IT UP
