Lucy leaned forward as the tray was set down on a table in front of them. “Thank you, Celia.”
“How do you take your tea?” Lucy inquired as Celia departed, and then shot Pia a teasing, self-deprecating look. “No matter how long I’ve been in New York, this is teatime for me. You can imagine the problems it causes when I’m giving a matinee performance!”
Before Pia could respond, Lucy glanced toward the door again. “Hawk,” Lucy acknowledged with a smile. “How nice of you to join us.”
Pia followed the direction that Lucy was looking, and froze.
Hawk. Him.
It wasn’t possible.
What was he doing here?
Pia felt a sensation like emotional vertigo.
Hawk looked relaxed and at home in a green T-shirt and khakis, as casual as she’d ever seen him. He looked, in fact, as if he might have sauntered in after watching some television or grabbing a bite to eat in another part of the house.
Pia glanced at Lucy, bewildered.
“Have you met my brother, James Carsdale?” Lucy said with an inviting smile, seemingly unaware of anything untoward happening.
Lucy cast her brother an impish grin. “Do I need to recite all your titles, or will it suffice to enlighten Pia that you’re also known as His Grace, the Duke of Hawkshire?”
“Carsdale?” Pia repeated, still forcing herself to focus on Lucy. “I thought your surname was Montgomery.”
“Pia knows I have a title,” Hawk said at the same time.
It was Lucy’s turn to look perplexed. She glanced between her brother and Pia. “I feel as if I’ve walked in during the middle of the second act. Is there something I should know?”
Pia swung to look at Lucy. “Your brother and I are—” she spared Hawk a withering look “—acquainted.”
Hawk arched a brow. “Well-acquainted.”
“Past tense,” Pia retorted.
“Obviously—on all counts,” Lucy put in before turning to look at her brother. “You didn’t tell me that you knew Pia. You suggested only that, on good authority, you had the name of an excellent wedding planner whom you wanted to recommend to me.”
“The truth,” Hawk responded.
Lucy arched a brow. “I take it the good authority was none other than yourself?”
Hawk inclined his head in silent acknowledgment, a mocking look in his eyes as they met Pia’s.
“Yes,” Pia put in acidly, “your brother is practiced in making the artful omission.”
Lucy looked with interest from her brother to Pia and back. “On the stage, this would be called a moment of high drama,” she quipped. “And here I thought, Hawk, that I had a lock on the thespian skills in the family.”
Pia stood and reached for her handbag. “Thank you for the offer of tea, Lucy, but I won’t be staying.”
As Pia tried to step by Hawk on the way to the door, he took hold of her elbow, and she froze.
It was the first time he had touched her in three years—since the night they had first met. And despite herself, she couldn’t help feeling Hawk’s casual touch on her elbow to the tips of her toes. Her skin prickled at his nearness.
Why, oh why, did she have to remain so responsive to him?
Pia forced herself to look up. It was at a moment such as this that she rued her lack of stature. And Hawk bested her on all counts…physical height, bearing and consequence in the world.
“I see you have the knack of anticipating requests,” he said smoothly. “It’s a useful skill in a wedding planner. And, as it happens, I was going to ask for a private word.”