She recalled the look on the dowager duchess’s face last night. Yes, Pia thought with a stab, Hawk had his life mapped out for him, and their paths were apparently fated to cross only briefly and casually, with no serious feelings or commitment—at least not on his part.
“I need to book a flight,” Pia told Tamara. “With any luck, I can catch a plane back to New York by tomorrow.”
Her friend looked troubled. “Oh, Pia, please stay longer. You’re upset.”
Pia was glad for the offer, but still she shook her head. “Thank you, Tamara—for everything.” She pasted on a brave smile. “But I have business that needs attending to back in New York.”
At the moment, she added silently, she needed to put as much space as possible between her and Hawk.
She also worried that if Sawyer returned home, he’d inform Hawk of her whereabouts. Pia had come to like Tamara’s husband, but she knew he was also Hawk’s friend.
And she wasn’t ready to face Hawk again quite so soon.
Once she was back in New York, she only had to figure out how to avoid Hawk until Lucy’s wedding was over. Because one thing was certain—they were over as a couple.
Hawk sat in his office in New Y
ork in a rare quiet moment and reflected on the royal mess he’d made.
Pia had run from him, and he no doubt ranked even lower than the fictional wicked Mr. Wickham in her estimation at the moment.
Mrs. Hollings, no doubt using her crystal ball and her contacts across the Atlantic, had published more or less the heart of the matter in her column: “Could a certain rakish, hawkish duke have resurrected his randy dandy ways before heading to the altar with a suitable marriageable miss?”
His painstakingly built reputation as a serious financier with hardly a remarkable social life was threatening to collapse. He’d merited three thinly-veiled references in Mrs. Hollings’s gossip column in the past months.
Pia had laid dust to his resolve to appear—and to be—strictly proper and responsible. He’d thought he was reformed. She’d proved him wrong.
She thought he’d played her false, and the truth was, he’d been less than aboveboard and forthright. As a result, Pia had been crushed by the unexpected events at Lucy’s engagement party.
And Mrs. Hollings, blast it, knew it all.
It would be easy, of course, for him to track down Pia. He knew where she lived, and she was still working on Lucy’s wedding—or rather, he thought she was.
Lucy had become rather tight-lipped on the subject of Pia. His sister had seemed to intuit what had transpired at Silderly Park, based on Michelene’s unexpected arrival and Pia’s abrupt departure. It was clear that Lucy disapproved of his treatment of Pia, though she’d refrained from outright verbal censuring.
And then again, what would he say to Pia if he tracked her down?
He should have told her about Michelene and explained—but what exactly? Until Pia had unexpectedly reappeared in his life on Belinda’s wedding day in June, he and everyone else had thought he’d marry someone suitable. It had been, in so many ways, the path of least resistance. It was time to marry, and with his reputation as a top-flight financier in place, a predictable marriage had been the final step toward burying his playboy past for good.
Yet how serious could he ever have been about Michelene if she’d barely even crossed his mind the whole time he’d been with Pia? He asked himself that question now. The idea of proposing to Michelene had never assumed concrete terms…
When the phone rang, he leaned forward and picked up the receiver on his desk. “Yes?”
“Sawyer Langsford is here to see you.”
“Tell him to come in.”
After replacing the phone, he rose from his chair, just in time to see Sawyer walk into his office.
As Hawk came around his desk, he was glad to see his friend, even though he had some suspicion as to what had precipitated this visit.
“If you’re here to castigate me,” he said without preamble, “I can assure you that I’m already doing a fine job of it myself.”
Sawyer smiled wryly. “Tamara suggested a duel at dawn, but I set her straight that it wasn’t quite the thing anymore among us aristocrats.”
“Good Lord, I should hope not,” Hawk muttered as he shook hands with Sawyer. “I don’t think my mother would take kindly to the dukedom passing into the hands of a distant cousin for lack of male heirs.”
Sawyer’s eyes crinkled.