One Night with Prince Charming (15 page)

Pia swallowed hard.

“And you are a pro at two of the most important aristocratic pastimes—fishing and riding,” Tamara continued. “I find fishing deadly dull, and as for riding, I only ever do it occasionally.”

Pia gave a tremulous smile, even as she flushed with embarrassment. She didn't dare tell Tamara and Belinda that Hawk was interested in different types of fishing and riding with her—ones that had nothing to do with fishes and horses and everything to do with a bed and a lazy afternoon or evening, or morning, for that matter.

Belinda looked at her too knowingly. “My advice is not to be Hawk's plaything, even if I do think an arrangement without a legally binding contract is easier. I know you, Pia, and this isn't you.”

Pia looked down and fiddled with her napkin. The rational part of her knew Belinda was right. The other part didn't want to think about tomorrow and consequences. She just wanted Hawk.

She'd been young, naive and romantic once, but perhaps she was always destined to act emotionally as far as Hawk was concerned.

Michelene.
Oh, God.

Pia swallowed and looked up.

Belinda and Tamara were looking at her with worried but expectant expressions.

Pia bit her lip and punted. “Mr. Darcy is waiting for me at home.”

Belinda relaxed a little, obviously taking her comment as a reassuring sign. “Good girl. Learn who the good guys are.”

If only, Pia thought, she wasn't still so tempted by a certain wicked duke that her stubborn heart kept insisting was her Prince Charming.

H
awk looked up from his desk, and then automatically rose. “What a surprise to see you on this side of the Atlantic, Mother.”

It seemed as if everyone was destined to pay a visit to his office these days. Everyone, that was, except Pia.

Undoubtedly, his mother must have told his secretary not to bother announcing her arrival after obviously having taken her coat and handbag.

The dowager duchess gave him a fixed look. “I thought it would be nice if we had lunch.”

Hawk's lips twisted. His mother had shown up unannounced—a clear sign that something important was weighing on her.

“What is this I hear about you and Lucy's wedding planner, Pia Lumley?” his mother asked, not disappointing by going straight to the point. “Some dreadful woman has been writing—”

“Mrs. Hollings.”

His mother stopped abruptly. “Pardon?”

“The Pink Pages of Mrs. Jane Hollings. It's a column that appears in the Earl of Melton's newspapers. Specifically,
The New York Intelligencer.
”

“I don't know why Melton hasn't put a stop to it then,” the dowager duchess huffed. “He's a friend of yours, isn't he?”

“Sawyer believes in freedom of the press,” Hawk responded dryly, coming around his desk.

“Nonsense. This terrible woman is assailing your reputation. Something must be done.”

“And what, precisely, is it you suggest I do, Mother?” Hawk queried.

The dowager duchess raised her brows and gathered herself into her full hauteur. “Quite obviously, it must be made apparent to all parties that you have no interest in Ms. Lumley.”

“Don't I?”

“Certainly not. This Mrs. Hollings is suggesting that you are having the near equivalent of a liaison with the household help. The Duke of Hawkshire does not dally with those in his employ like…like—”

“Have a seat, Mother,” Hawk said, pulling back a chair without breaking stride. “Would you like something to drink?”

He could use something strong and therapeutic himself.

“You are being rather obstinate, James. A simple denial will do.”

“And what should I deny?”

The dowager duchess shot him a peremptory look as she sat down. “That you and Ms. Lumley are—”

“—liaising?”

His mother nodded.

“Ah, but you see, I cannot do that.”

His mother stilled, and then closed her eyes briefly, as if in resignation. “Goodness. It's not just the resurrected
image of you as a playboy that I need to contend with. It's the reality.”

“Quite right.”

He deserved every condemnation, Hawk thought. He'd dallied with Pia and hurt her. Again.

His mother fixed him with a stern look. “Well, you must put a stop to this at once. My grandfather was a renowned philanderer who left a mess in his wake—”

“You mean offspring born on the wrong side of the blanket?”

The dowager duchess straightened her spine. “We do not speak of it in this family. Kindly curb your blunt speaking. It isn't charming.”

Hawk felt his lips quirk. “But, Mother, you like Great-Aunt Ethel.”

“Precisely, and that is why we do not refer to the family peccadilloes. However, I still would not have the past repeat itself.”

He arched a brow. “Then maybe it would be best if you did not press this matter of an engagement to Michelene. Perhaps the old earl's wandering eye could be traced to an unhappy arranged marriage.”

“I had no idea I was pressing anything upon you, James,” the dowager duchess huffed.

His mother had a disingenuous ability to parse the truth, but Hawk let the matter go. At the moment, there was a more important discussion to be had—perhaps one that was long overdue.

“Mother,” he said with forced gentleness, “Michelene may be a lingering tie to William, but William is gone.”

He'd done a lot of thinking since his return from Silderly Park, and especially after Sawyer's visit. One thing he'd realized was that he had to stop any expectations with respect to Michelene for good. He didn't love her—no matter how suitable she was—and he never would.

His mother looked at him for a moment—uncharacteristically without a ready response. And then, disconcertingly, her eyes became moist.

Hawk shifted. “I know this is difficult for you.”

“William considered Michelene for his wife because she was a natural choice,” the dowager duchess observed finally. “He was doing what was expected of him. He knew his responsibilities.”

“Precisely, and I therefore wonder how enamored William really was of Michelene,” Hawk replied. “There were times when I thought William enjoyed boating and flying so much because they were the rare moments when he could feel free. In any case, William was groomed for his responsibilities as duke from birth, and I wasn't.”

His mother looked pained, but then gathered and composed herself. “Very well, but what do we know about this woman Pia Lumley?” she argued. “Where is she from? She will have no understanding of our ways and what will be expected of her as the Duchess of Hawkshire.”

In the way that mattered most, Pia was well-equipped to fill the role of duchess, Hawk disagreed silently. She knew how to please him.

“She's from Pennsylvania,” he said aloud. “She knows how to entertain because she's a well-regarded wedding coordinator to New York society—a respectable proving ground for women who marry well, you'll agree.”

In Pia's defense, he cited the things that he knew would matter to his mother.

The dowager duchess said nothing, so Hawk pressed on.

“She knows how to ride and fish as well as any woman of my acquaintance,” he said. “She is sweet and intelligent, and charmingly devoid of guile or pretense. A breath of fresh air.”

“Well,” his mother replied finally, “with all those sterling
qualities, James, why ever would she have anything to do with you?”

Hawk laughed but it was filled with a note of self-derision. “I wonder that myself.”

He was in love with Pia, and he was unworthy of her.

He'd been so intent on defending Pia to his mother that he'd stumbled upon an important realization.

He loved Pia.

Suddenly everything seemed so simple and clear.

“James?”

Hawk looked at his mother. “Yes?”

“You seem lost in thought.”

“Or perhaps simply lost.”

His mother stood. “Well, quite clearly I've misread matters.”

“Never mind, Mother. It's nothing that can't be put to rights.”

He hoped.

Hawk knew there were a few things he needed to clarify with Michelene.

And then he needed to find Pia.

If it wasn't too late, and he hadn't hopelessly botched things, this time for good…

 

Pia had every reason to believe that Lucy's wedding would be the worst day of her life—or near to it. In all likelihood, this day would be Michelene and Hawk's appearance as a couple, if not the announcement of their engagement.

Who else would Hawk take to his sister's wedding but his future bride? It made eminent sense.

One thing was certain: he would not be escorting her, Pia. She was working, and she supposed Hawk's days playing her gofer or man Friday were over.

Hawk's mother, the dowager duchess, would no doubt be eager to segue from seeing one of her children walk down the
aisle to seeing the other married—especially when the
other
was the current Duke of Hawkshire.

But as the day progressed, it became clear that Michelene wouldn't materialize—Hawk had come alone to the wedding.

Still, Pia refused to read too much into that, and distracted herself with work.

Thankfully, Hawk didn't approach her. She wasn't sure what she would do if he did.

Instead, he remained busy at the reception, speaking with various guests and exchanging pleasantries with others.

Pia couldn't help wondering if he'd relegated her to being simply the hired help and no more these days. The thought hurt.

Nevertheless, she hungrily absorbed all her glimpses of him, storing them away for a time when she'd no longer see him.

He looked so handsome and attractive tonight that she ached.

Still, by the end of the evening, Pia was weary enough to want the night to end—if only so she wouldn't have to maintain appearances in front of Hawk and everyone else.

She had just walked out of the loftlike reception room when she heard her name called out behind her.

“Pia.”

She turned around, but she already knew who it was.

Hawk.

He walked toward her, still looking impeccable in a navy suit and silver-gray tie as the evening was drawing to a close.

She looked at the clock. It was nearing midnight on New Year's Eve.

Too bad this Cinderella couldn't disappear quite yet. She'd worn a simple light blue strapless dress and matching heels.
But she didn't have a carriage, or even a car. And the wedding was slated to continue until one.

Still, she didn't think she could speak to Hawk right now.

She had to get away…get some air.
Anything.

“I—I was just—”

He quirked a brow. “Leaving?”

Damn him.
How dare he look so composed when he was the reason she was upset?

“I was taking a moment to compose myself,” she replied with halfhearted honesty. “I was going to touch up my makeup.”

Where was a ladies' room when one was needed? It was the only place where she knew Hawk
wouldn't
be following her.

“Why?” He surveyed her. “You look perfect.”

Except for the fact that her heart was a wreck.

She sighed. “That's what women do, Hawk. They freshen up. Powder their nose…touch up their lipstick…”

“Why? Expecting someone to kiss you?”

She stared at him mutely. How could he be so heartless?

“Why disappear now?” he persisted. “It's almost midnight.”

That was the point.
She didn't want everyone to witness that she had no one to kiss—not even a frog. Okay, she had some excuse in that she was on the job, but still… With Hawk in the room—who knew the truth of her circumstances—that helped little.

“Isn't it customary for people to don boas and crowns and blow noisemakers? Why fix your hair when it'll get messed up anyway?” He moved a little, and Pia belatedly noticed that he was holding a small bag. “In fact, I brought some items for you.”

“It was considerate of you to think of me,” she said, wondering why they were having this inane conversation.

She had no plans to blow a horn or kiss anybody.

Hawk gave a little smile. “I thought it was considerate, too.”

Pia thought it was too bad there wasn't another platter of hors d'oeuvres nearby.

How much would it cost her to precipitate another incident at a wedding?

Too much.
She couldn't afford it.

Hawk reached into the bag he was holding and pulled out a jeweled headpiece.

It took Pia a moment to realize the tiara wasn't one of those plastic jewel concoctions that everyone wore on New Year's Eve, but the real thing.

Her brain slowed, her mind caught in a moment of disbelief.

The diamond tiara in Hawk's hand had a swirl pattern and was of equal thickness all around. Large diamonds also dangled within the swirls.

Hawk's smile was tender and thoughtful.

Her eyes, wide with shock, remained fastened on his as he moved to settle the tiara on her upswept hair.

It was the first time in Pia's life she'd ever worn a real tiara—though she'd donned plenty of make-believe ones, especially in her dreams.

“There,” he murmured, easing back, his eyes meeting hers. “I have pins to anchor it in place. I've been told it's wise to do so, though I have no idea how to go about it.”

Pia swallowed hard.

“I wasn't sure what color you'd be wearing,” Hawk said, his voice low and deep. “So I decided to go with a sure bet. The Carsdale Diamond tiara.”

She sucked in a breath, her brain refusing to function.

“G-good choice.”

Just inside the reception room, the guests continued their dancing and merriment, waiting for the countdown to the new
year and heedless of the two people standing just outside one of the exits.

“It's the traditional tiara worn by Carsdale brides,” Hawk said, his voice laden with meaning. “It was worn by my mother on her wedding day.”

Pia felt her heart constrict. It pounded loudly.

She couldn't bear it if Hawk was toying with her. If this was a gambit to win her back into his bed even as he planned to marry Michelene or search for a properly-pedigreed duchess…

She bit her lip. “Why are you giving it to me to wear?”

“Why do you think?” he asked thickly, searching her face. “It's a new year and a new beginning…I hope.”

“I—I don't need a tiara to ring in the n-new year.”

Hawk touched her chin and rubbed his thumb over her lips.

“I know,” he responded tenderly. “The question is do you need a duke who is very much in love? He comes with a big house that needs someone who can preside over large and boring parties.”

Pia's eyes welled.

Hawk cleared his throat. “You once fell for plain Mr. James Fielding, and it was the greatest gift that anyone ever gave me.”

Her shock turned into a crazy kind of hope as Hawk went down on bended knee. He fished a ring out of his pocket with one hand even as the other lifted one of hers.

Pia glanced down at Hawk and began to tremble with emotion. She reached up with her free hand to steady the tiara.

Hawk smiled up at her. “This is meant to match the tiara.”

Pia could hardly breathe despite his attempt at levity.