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.