No gentleman should ever forget that he is one.
A PROPER GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO WOOING THE PERFECT LADY
SIR VINCENT TYBALT VALENTINE
Hawk was damned glad Miss Quick had refused his gentlemanly offer and he wouldn’t be sleeping in the stable. The slow drizzle of rain had turned to a sleety shower of ice that was setting up for a miserable night of freezing cold. It was unseasonably wintry for being less than a month from the first day of spring.
A little before eight in the evening Hawk strode down the long corridor that led to the dining room. After he’d done all he could for the mare, the housekeeper had shown him to a room where he took off his coat, shirt, collar, and neckcloth and let them dry by the fire before donning them again. He hadn’t expected to stay the night at Mammoth House so he’d left his satchel at the inn where he’d left his carriage.
Hawk was looking forward to a hearty meal, a stout wine, and an evening of interesting discussions with Miss Quick before he sought a warm bed.
He rounded the doorway and came to an abrupt halt when he saw Miss Quick standing in front of the fireplace. Flickering yellow and amber flames glowed behind her, giving her an almost ethereal appearance. His first thought was that she looked angelic.
His second was that he wanted to seduce her.
His third was that he’d best get his primal urges under control.
And fast.
She was the niece of an earl and not available for him to dally with no matter what desires his baser instincts were pressing upon him to engage in at the moment. He could enjoy her beauty, wit, and charm, but he couldn’t touch her.
She wore a buttery-colored gown that looked as soft and velvety as her beautiful skin. Long, sheer sleeves were trimmed at the cuffs with white fur. The neckline swept low, revealing the enticing, gentle swell of her breasts. A brilliantly cut ruby hung from a delicate strand of pearls that circled her neck, and a matching strand had been fitted at the crown of her silky upswept hair.
Had she been his mistress he would have forgotten all about the growl of hunger in his stomach and fed the raging appetite in his loins. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and take her straight to his bedchamber.
“Miss Quick,” he said with a nod.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” she answered with an abbreviated curtsy. “I hope the suite of rooms Mrs. Huddleston showed you are acceptable.”
“Yes. Warm and comfortable.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she answered and then walked over to stand by a chair.
Only then did Hawk notice the table. It was long. Very long and covered in a gleaming white cloth. An impressive six-pronged silver candlestand had been placed in the middle. Two single candlesticks flanked each side of the stand, adding their burning flames to the golden glow cast by the crackling fire and lighted wall sconces. There were ten chairs lining each side of the table. An attractive setting of china, silver, and crystal had been placed at each end.
If they were going to see each other, they would have to look around all the candles. And if they were to converse during dinner, apparently Miss Quick expected them to shout.
Hawk strode over to her and, pulling out the chair, said, “Allow me to assist you.”
“Thank you,” she answered, sounding quite pleased with herself as she took her seat.
The enticing scent of fresh-washed hair stirred the air beside him as she moved. It teased his senses. Watching her as she made herself comfortable, he had a great desire to reach down and kiss the back of her neck and let his lips skim along the crest of her bare shoulders. He wanted to snuggle his nose against the warm skin behind her ear and breathe in slowly. And though he knew it was futile thinking, he wanted to feel her tremble with passion in his arms.
Ah, he thought, she is simply too tempting for words.
He bent down close to the top of her head, but alas, not to indulge in his desired fantasy to kiss her but only to whisper, “You are lovely tonight, Miss Quick.”
She remained staring straight ahead but murmured another, softer “Thank you.”
Hawk pushed his thoughts away from his desires for Miss Quick once again and headed to the opposite end of the table, counting the chairs between them as he passed. Eleven. He’d missed one when he’d glanced at them a few moments ago. There might as well be a gulf of fire between the two of them.
At the table where he was to sit, he grabbed the back of his chair to pull it out but stopped. He looked at Miss Quick sitting so lovely, so serene, and so far away. It was impossible to ignore the barriers she’d erected between them.
To be or not to be a gentleman was the question she’d silently put before him. And it really wasn’t hard to answer. She obviously didn’t know he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. What else could so many candles and silver be?
Hawk didn’t mind accommodating a clever young lady, but, he could only go so far in doing so. After all, he was a man. The opportunity to dine alone with a beautiful, innocent lady of quality might never come his way again.
And that was all it took for the man inside him to win out over the gentleman. Why change his wicked ways tonight?
He let go of the chair, reached down and scooped up the silver on both sides of the plate in one hand. With the other he gathered the napkin and wineglass and marched to the chair that was on Miss Quick’s right. She sat in stunned silence as he laid everything on the table in front of him, not as neatly as it had been, but it would do. He then went back and picked up the decanter of wine and the plate and carried them back to where he was preparing a place for himself.
After putting the items on the table, he noticed she had water in her goblet. “Do you drink wine, Miss Quick?”
“Sometimes. Usually only when Paxton is here.”
“Ah. I’ve heard it’s never a good idea to drink alone. Will you join me in a glass of wine tonight?”
“If you would like.”
He picked up her water, carried it over to the fireplace, and poured it in the edge of the fire. It sizzled and hissed. He then placed the glass back in front of her and poured a serving of wine into it and then into his own glass before taking his seat.
“That’s better,” he said with a satisfied smile, loving the surprised expression on her face. “You did say you don’t stand on ceremony when your brother isn’t home, didn’t you?”
Though he felt sure she hoped to hide it, he saw a measure of admiration in her eyes for his brashness. And that pleased him, too.
“Yes. And by all means, Your Grace, sit wherever you like.”
Her voice was calm, her countenance relaxed. She was letting him know he might have won the skirmish, but she wasn’t conceding the battle. Good. He was looking forward to more clashes between them before the evening was over.
He nodded once. “May I offer a toast?”
“Of course.” She picked up her wine.
“To your brother and my sister and a long happy life for each of them.” He waited until she had the glass to her lips and then added, “Together.”
Miss Quick coughed as she swallowed. Her brows furrowed. “That wasn’t fair of you,” she said and put down her glass.
“We are in a war on opposite sides. It was strategic.”
“It was underhanded.”
“Perhaps it was sly.”
“No matter the term you or I attach to it, I wouldn’t toast to my brother and your sister together when they’ve never even met.”
By the tone of her voice he knew she wasn’t angry with him or even upset. She was simply taking him to task for doing something she didn’t like, and that made her divinely appealing.
“You don’t like to give an inch, do you, Miss Quick?”
She rearranged the napkin in her lap and then looked at him with her blue eyes and said, “I could easily say the same about you. Apparently you don’t, either.”
“Ah, but with me it is expected, is it not? I’ve always found that young ladies are usually more cooperative than men—yet you are tenacious to a fault.”
Her gaze stayed on his. He saw that earlier, attractive strength return to her countenance. “Perhaps you didn’t notice when we spoke this afternoon, Your Grace, but…” She paused, and her hint of a smile was confident. “I’m not known for being agreeable just to placate someone—not even an earl or a duke.”
“Oh, I noticed, and you know I did, but thank you for attempting to give me the benefit of doubt. It was more than I deserved.”
“And not for the first time,” she murmured under her breath and then said more plainly, “Tell me, did you find everything you needed to care for your horse?”
“Yes. Including a blanket, which will be needed tonight. The stable is large and well stocked for only four horses.”
“I know, it’s a shame that much of it goes unused. There was a time many horses were stabled here. Years ago, when the house was built by the first Earl of Switchingham. I’m told Mammoth House was a rather grand hunting lodge. The earl, along with family and friends, used to spend the winters here. They held grand house parties that are still talked about in the village.”
Hawk settled against the back of his chair and sipped the wine again. He’d never made it back to the drawing room for the brandy she’d poured, and the wine was soothing. This is what he wanted from the night. A warm room, a glass of wine, and a strong, delightful, and intelligent lady to share it all with him.
“Does your uncle stay here and hunt?”
“No. I’m told there used to be a dense forest not too far north of here, but a great fire destroyed it close to twenty years ago. As unbelievable as it seems, there had been little rain for several weeks before the fire. Apparently the devastation was quite thorough, and regrowth has been slow.”
The housekeeper entered the dining room and placed a plate of steaming food in front of him. The aroma of sweet honey mixed with smoked ham drifted up and made Hawk’s mouth water. A mound of scrambled eggs and a serving of boiled potatoes were also on the plate. Miss Quick was served the same but with noticeably smaller portions.
“There are sporadic stands of scrub trees and brush,” Miss Quick continued as Mrs. Huddleston left the dining room, “but unfortunately the forest hasn’t returned to its former flourish yet. I’m assuming that’s the reason the house is no longer used as a hunting lodge.”
“And how long have you lived in Mammoth House?”
“Over two years,” she answered, picking up her knife and fork.
“How often do you go to the village?”
“I don’t.” She motioned to his food. “Please enjoy your meal while it’s hot.”
Hawk put his glass down and picked up his silver. “What about London? Do you go there to visit family or friends?”
“No.” She swallowed another bite and then said, “I am always invited to go to my uncle’s house for Christmas dinner.”
It was intriguing that she seldom traveled anywhere, and he wanted to know why. The real reason why.
The ham was salty, sweet, and delicious. He enjoyed his food for a few moments and thought on what she’d said before asking, “Yet your brother leaves Mammoth House often.”
She quirked her head toward him as she lifted a forkful of eggs. “How do you know?”
“I see him in London.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, of course, you would know.” She laughed softly. “I should have assumed that. Paxton enjoys being with people. The solitude here doesn’t agree with him as easily as it does me.”
Hawk took a sip of the wine and watched her laugh at herself before returning to her food. He liked that her mistake hadn’t flustered her. He liked seeing merriment sparkle in her eyes and light up her face.
“Does it agree with you or do you simply manage it better than your brother?”
“Either way, Your Grace,” she said without looking up from her food. “This is where I live. I still have friends in London and we correspond regularly so I’m not completely cut off from the outside world.”
There was such finality in her voice it gave him pause. He watched her cut a small piece of ham. She wasn’t asking for sympathy or even understanding. Just stating the facts of her life.
“How frequently does the earl come for a visit?”
She swallowed. “Seldom.”
“You are a master at giving short answers, Miss Quick.”
“It is all your questions require.”
He grinned at her cheeky answer, and so did she before continuing, “But I must admit that you have asked a lot of questions tonight.”
“It’s the best way to learn what you want to know.”
“You must have an inquisitive mind.” She put a piece of potato in her quite attractive mouth. Hawk wanted to reach over and kiss those pretty closed lips of hers, but knew the recklessness of that line of thinking and dug into the mound of eggs on his plate instead.
After eating a few more bites, he said, “I do. How often is seldom?”
“That my uncle visits?”
He nodded.
“Twice a year. Usually spring and fall. I assume he considers it his duty as my guardian to check on me from time to time. Maybe he simply wants to make sure I’m still here, or it could be that traveling is harder on him than it used to be. He doesn’t get around as well as he did in his younger years. Stairs are particularly challenging for him. Even getting in and out of a carriage.” She glanced at Hawk and added, “Is that answer long enough for you?”
There was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, and Hawk chuckled. “Much better.”
“Good.”
“Why do you live here, Miss Quick?”
“It is my uncle’s wish,” she answered before laying her knife and fork aside and picking up her glass.
He smiled at her guileless answer. “Punishment?” he asked.
She lifted her gaze to his as she sipped the wine. He could see that she was contemplating her answer. Did she want to tell him the truth, a lie, or simply to mind his own business? He waited and gave her the time she needed to decide.
At last she said, “Perhaps some would think that.”
“But you don’t?”
“I have no use for self-pity, Your Grace. It festers and destroys. That said, I am resigned to the fact that I have no one to blame or to thank for the life I live other than myself.”
Her face was somber, her words so honest, so quietly spoken that his heart lurched from the impact of their meaning. “Does your brother believe that?”
“I suppose you will have to ask Paxton when you tell him that you want him to marry your sister so she won’t have to go out into Society and look for a husband herself among the rakes, scoundrels, and rapscallions. You know—” She gave him a rueful smile. “The kind of men who send gentle-bred young ladies anonymous letters and ask them to meet a secret admirer—that doesn’t exist.”
She was devilishly brave.
“I can’t deny I once did that,” he admitted. “Nor do I deny that I want to help my sister avoid men who can be as foolish as I was a few years ago.”
“Was?” She lifted an arched brow as if in protest of his comment. “So you have mended your wicked ways?”
“To some extent.” He laid his knife and fork on the empty plate. “I do try to behave myself around young ladies as much as possible, and I haven’t written much of anything other than my signature since that note. I have my solicitor do it.”
Miss Quick huffed a playful laugh. “Self-imposed punishment for yourself? I find that highly amusing.”
“Maybe a measure of atonement as well, in order to spare others my regrettable ways. I suppose there would never be enough recompense for the writers of the scandal sheets.”
“Nor perhaps the embarrassed belles who were left with only tainted reputations and the realization that no one was admiring them after all.”
Hawk rubbed his thumb on the bottom of his wineglass. He’d come to expect that she wouldn’t temper her words to spare him any ridicule or shame for what he’d already admitted was a mistake.
“It wasn’t meant to be cruel to the young ladies. It wasn’t even meant as a joke. It was a wager among friends that no one else was to ever know about. Our folly was that we were only thinking of ourselves and our own desire to win the wager.”
“And now someone may want to endanger your sister’s reputation in like kind in order to take revenge upon you for endangering the reputations of other young ladies.”
“Though you might live far from the streets of London, I see you are up on the latest gossip.”
“Mr. Huddleston always picks up copies of the all the latest newssheets when he’s in Grimsfield each week. And I always read Miss Honora Truth’s Weekly Scandal Sheet.”
“You and the rest of the world,” he grumbled.
“She’s entertaining with her words. How much of the gossip she writes is true?” Miss Quick asked.
Probably far more than he was willing to admit.
“I don’t know. That’s the problem and why I make no apologies for what I’m doing to spare my sister. The same gossip that swirled around the Duke of Griffin’s sisters last year is surfacing again now that Adele is making her debut. She could be in danger from someone wanting to ruin her chance at making a good match or simply playing her for a fool in the hope of breaking her heart just to get even with me for the secret admirer letters. As I told you, if she is already betrothed, no one will have reason to pursue her, and thereby I will keep her from being set upon by mischief-makers.”
“And in order to keep this retaliation from happening, you want to completely alter my brother’s life to save your sister because of something you did.”
She wasn’t teasing him when she said she liked to go straight to the heart of a matter. She knew how to put everything on the line. Hawk leaned forward, closer to her, but not in a threatening way, and said, “Because he would be a good match for Adele and she for him. Remember, I know them both.”
Leaning back in her chair, she sipped her wine and then asked, “Why did you and your friends decide to wager on something as delicate as a young lady’s heart?”
“You do like to thrust the knife in deep, Miss Quick.”
“I am only stating the truth, am I not? I have nothing to lose by being honest with you. I am not seeking your favor or trying to impress you.”
“Perhaps I wish you were. However, you can’t make sense of what we did because you couldn’t possibly understand the thoughts of a young man and his ego, especially one whose mind was befuddled by drink and arrogance and no fear whatsoever.”
“That’s probably true.”
“We now know we shouldn’t have done it—for a number of reasons, including the very real fact that not a one of us thought about our sisters and that they would grow up to be young ladies one day.”
“That must have been sobering when you finally did.”
Hawk grimaced. “It was never our intention to cause anyone harm. It was supposed to just be a simple wager among friends.”
“So money was the reason you decided to send those letters to the young ladies?”
“Not the money. The winning. But there were several things that led to our downfall concerning that event.”
“Share a few of them with me.”
Share?
That wasn’t a word he was used to hearing, and he certainly wasn’t used to doing it. Furthermore, he’d never talked about that time almost ten years ago with anyone other than the other two men involved, Rath and Griffin, until Miss Quick. How had she managed to do so effortlessly what no one else had done?
Hawk took a sip of the wine and watched the candlelight play on her face. She looked even more beautiful than when he’d first entered the room. She looked comfortable, too, and that was probably the reason he was opening up to her and even discussing the wager.
Without further thought about why, he said, “The thing that started it all was a book that had just been published titled A Proper Gentleman’s Guide to Wooing the Perfect Lady.”
Her brow creased. “I don’t believe I’ve read it.”
“There’s no reason you should, and I wish I had never heard of it,” he complained.
“How did such a book influence you?”
“For the worse, as you well know. Rath, Griffin, and I would enjoy reading a page or two of it and then have a good laugh at the useless and sometimes absurd things the man wrote, including Never send a young lady a secret admirer letter.”
“Oh.”
“Yes,” he answered dryly. “We were of an age and mind-set that, if we were told not to do something, that was the very first thing we wanted to do. And since we’d come to the bottom of a brandy bottle that particular evening, sending notes under the signature of A Secret Admirer seemed the suitable thing to do.”
“How did you decide who should receive a letter?”
“That was easy. There were twelve young ladies making their debut that year. We decided those were the ones to receive our missive. We each took four different names and sent the letters asking them to meet us. At different locations, of course. We didn’t know if any of them would come but agreed whoever had the most ladies show at the end of the evening would win the wager.”
“But all three of you had all four of the ladies come for the secret meeting?”
“Yes.”
“And you were found out one evening after you were overheard gloating about it.”
He laughed at her rapid retort as he refilled his wineglass and added a splash to her glass as well. “Not gloating, Miss Quick, merely discussing it. But there were other reasons we made such an error. We were young, foolish, and had a great desire to win whatever bet we made.” Hawk picked up his wine and leaned back in his chair. “Not a one of us laid a hand on any of the young ladies.”
“But all of them were touched by the scandal of trying to meet an unknown man in secret.”
“Yes.” He lifted his glass to her in a toast. “I have already conceded it was improper for us to send the letters, to wager on them, and for the young ladies to respond to them. But it’s egregious to me that Society would attempt to ruin a young lady’s reputation over a secret admirer that never existed.”
“Aside from the embarrassment it must have caused them, I can see where some fathers might think that if their daughter was willing to meet a secret admirer, she could be tempted to meet any gentleman in secret. A few could have even wondered if she’d actually done it before. It could have caused others to second-guess the young lady’s virtue. I could go on with possibilities if you like?”
“No,” he said dryly. “You mentioned enough. And all you said is probably true, but there seemed to be no lasting effects on any of them. When this rumor of possible revenge against us started last year, we checked on all the young ladies and from what we were able to find out, they are living quite happily now, despite their near ruination because of the letter.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“It was for us, too,” he said and enjoyed a sip of the wine. “Since we are on the subject of rumors and our past, is it true that you took a vow to never marry?”
She put her glass down. “Yes.”
“Because you didn’t want to marry Viscount Denningcourt.”
It was slow in coming but she finally said, “Yes.”
“But you didn’t go into a convent. It seems I remember hearing you had.”
Suddenly her eyes glowed with a genuine humor that he found so attractive, his lower body responded to the pull. Once again, he wanted to reach over and kiss her.
“That would have probably been fitting, Your Grace, but I wouldn’t make a good nun and my uncle knew that. I am stubborn, not righteous. Even if I’d wanted to go to a nunnery and my uncle had agreed, I have no doubt the sisters would have sent me back to Switchingham before the end of the first day. I don’t have the temperament to be submissive, and I believe that is a requirement for entering.”
Hawk would agree to that. And that strength was one of the things that held his attention on her. He would much rather talk to a young lady with her honest approach to a conversation than the young ladies who were afraid to open their mouths and speak around him for fear they would say something to make him bored or, worse, angry.
Hawk studied her again as she picked up her glass and sipped her wine while staring at him. “So you made a vow to never marry. But did you make a vow of chastity as well?”
Though her gazed stayed intensely on his, he knew his question surprised her.
“Are they not one and the same, Your Grace?”
“I don’t know, Miss Quick. It was your vow. You tell me.”
Her hand remained steady and her eyes clear, yet he felt her tension increase. Her silence lengthened and he felt sure he knew why. She had not settled in her mind the answer to his question.
“Sorry to interrupt your dinner, Miss Quick.”
The housekeeper stood at the doorway, worrying the hem of her apron in her hands. Hawk thought she must have been listening at the door and decided to step in and help her mistress.
“You’re not, Mrs. Huddleston,” Miss Quick said. “What do you need?”
“There’s a young beggar at the back door looking for a piece of bread to eat.”
“You know you don’t have to ask me what to do if someone is hungry. Give him more than he wants.”
“Oh, yes, miss, I know. I told him to wait and I’d get him some, but I think you need to come see him, too. He doesn’t look well to me, and I thought you’d want to know.”
Hawk knew what the weather was like outside. “Well or not, no one should be out on a night like this.”
“I agree,” Miss Quick said. “We’ll bring him inside, of course.” She looked at the housekeeper. “Is he alone?”
“Appears to be. I asked him to step into the kitchen and warm himself, but he refused. Said he only wanted some bread and that he’d wait by the door for it. I came directly to tell you.”
“I’m glad you did. Excuse me, Your Grace,” she said, laying her napkin on the table. “I must attend to this.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Hawk followed Miss Quick down the long, wide corridor and into the kitchen. Three female servants he hadn’t seen before were standing huddled near a table that held the remains from their supper. Mrs. Huddleston opened the back door and a blast of chilling air swept inside with a cold swoosh of wind. Hawk saw a boy of about twelve or thirteen looking pale as a ghost, shivering, and wet head-to-toe from the icy rain.
“Merciful heavens!” Miss Quick said earnestly and held out her hand to the lad. “Come inside at once.”
But the beggar had already caught sight of Hawk, and for some reason that struck fear in him. He started to wobble on his feet. His eyes rounded and he jerked back as if he’d been struck. A split second later he turned and staggered away.
“No! Wait,” Miss Quick called. “Don’t go. We want to help you!”
Hawk knew the youngster would freeze to death if he tried to stay outside. He looked at Miss Quick. “I’ll go find him and bring him back. You get him some dry clothes and something warm to drink and have it ready for when I return.”
There was no time for Hawk to get his cloak. If he lost sight of the boy he might not locate him again with the night so dark. Hawk immediately rushed out in the direction the lad had vanished.
Icy sharp crystals slashed across Hawk’s face and stung his eyes. Wet, blustery gusts of wind tore at his clothing, plastering it against his body as soon as he left the sanctuary of the roofed portico and started down the steps.
He lifted the collar of his coat against the frigid rain and trudged forward against the onslaught of sleet. Hawk’s boots slid on the rapidly freezing ground, making it difficult for him to keep his balance. It was dark as Hades and Hawk almost lost sight of the rascal because of the stinging ice pellets hitting his eyes. He couldn’t hear anything but the wind whipping around his ears.
“Damnation,” he muttered to himself as his foot slipped on a frozen patch of earth again and he almost went down.
In the distance through the hazy air and stinging ice, he could barely see the movement of the boy. It looked as if he were half running and half stumbling.
Hawk picked up his pace, but it wasn’t easy on the slippery ground. The youngster was fast, but Hawk was determined not to lose sight of him and let him get away. When Hawk was close enough, he reached out and grabbed the back of lad’s coat. He grunted and kept pushing forward against the howling wind and ice. Suddenly all Hawk was holding was a coat. The imp had unbuttoned it so that it would be pulled off his arms.
Giving the coat a frustrated toss, Hawk exhaled sharply and kept running. This wasn’t the first time the boy had bolted at the sight of a man. The imp was obviously used to being chased. He darted from side to side, trying to make it harder for Hawk to catch him. But Hawk wouldn’t be fooled again. Waiting until he got closer the second time, Hawk grabbed the back of his shirt with one hand and clamped his other hand on the boy’s shoulder and finally stopped him.
The boy swung around with both his fists flying in all directions. He grunted and hoarsely yelled, “Get away from me, ye cur! I didn’t steal anything from ye fancy home.”
“Stop fighting me,” Hawk said to the lad, trying to catch his flailing arms and stop his panicked thrashing.
“Let me be, damn ye black soul! I didn’t do anything to ye! Ye blackguard!”
From the boy’s crude language, Hawk knew he wasn’t a farmer’s child who’d lost his way. But how could a street urchin find himself so far away from civilization?
“Calm down,” Hawk grumbled while cold, hard crystals continued to hit his face. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m trying to save your life.”
It must have taken the last of the ragamuffin’s strength to strike out at Hawk. All of a sudden the youngster’s body stilled. His eyes widened and rolled back in his head. He went limp and dropped like a sack of grain to the ground in a heap at Hawk’s feet.
“Hellfire,” Hawk muttered.
The sleet was brutal and unrelenting. He reached down and scooped the boy up in his arms. Over the whipping wind, a cracking noise sounded eerily in the quietness when he pulled the boy up to his chest. His clothing had already started to freeze, and no doubt his frail body had, too.
It crossed Hawk’s mind that it might already be too late to save the lost lad.