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“My father died months later,” he elaborated, forcing himself to stay on topic. “Some would say brokenhearted, though he’d already been in poor health. So by two quirks of fate within a year, I became the duke.”
“And then you started Sunhill Investments,” Pia observed without inflection. “You’ve had a busy few years.”
He inclined his head. “Again, som
e would say so. And yet it was all born of necessity, and nothing more so than the need to find a new cash flow for the maintenance of the ducal estates.”
When his father had died, the full weight of the dukedom had been thrust upon his shoulders. He’d stepped up to take care of the family…become responsible…
He’d already started exploring his options for starting a hedge fund, but the costs associated with the ducal estates had added new urgency to matters.
And in the shuffle—in the crazy upheaval and burdensome work schedule that had been his life for the past three years—it had been easy to shut the door on his discomfort as far as Pia was concerned. He had, at many moments, been too busy to think about their one stupendous night, when he’d broken his vow and done what he said he’d never do, even in his careless playboy days—be remembered as a woman’s first lover. And even in his younger days, he hadn’t been the type to leave without a word—instead, he stuck around and made sure there were no hard feelings.
“You never got back in touch,” Pia stated, though without rancor.
He searched her eyes—so unusual in their warm amber tone that he’d been arrested by them on their first meeting.
Now, he sensed in them that her adamancy from when he’d walked in the door was weakening, exactly as he’d wanted. Still, what he said next was the truth. “None of this explanation was intended as an excuse.”
“Why go out of your way to arrange for me to be Lucy’s wedding planner?” Pia asked. “To make amends?”
Hawk couldn’t help but smile at her astute query. Pia might still be rather sweet and naive, despite her posturing to the contrary, but she was intelligent. He’d been drawn to her wit on the night they’d first met.
“If I said yes, would you let me?” he parried.
“I’ve found from past experience that letting you do anything is dangerous.”
He gave a low laugh. “Even if it’s a favor?”
“With no strings attached?”
He could sense her weakening toward him, so he gave her his most innocent look. “Would you let me wipe some of the dirt off my conscience?”
“So this is an act of mercy on my part?”
“Of sorts.”
“So you’re acting not only to make up for your friend Easterbridge’s actions at Belinda’s wedding but for yours in the past as well?”
“I don’t believe I was ever motivated by Easterbridge’s actions.”
Then, not giving her a chance to backtrack, he withdrew a pen from his inner jacket pocket and using the nearby wall as support, he inked her contract with his signature.
“There, it’s signed,” he said, handing out the contract to her.
She looked at him with some wariness, but nevertheless took the contract from him and glanced at it.
“Hawkshire,” she read, and then looked up, a sudden glimmer in her eyes. “How grand. Sh-should I receive it as a benediction of sorts?”
He shrugged, willing for her to be amused at his expense. “Am I being permitted to try to make restitution, however inadequately? Then please view this contract as a grant of clemency from you to me.”
Deliberately, he held the pen out to her.
Pia seemed to understand his gesture for the meaning-laden act it was, and hesitated.
Hawk glanced down at Mr. Darcy for a moment, and then arched a brow. “Our one witness wants you to sign.”
And indeed, Mr. Darcy was looking up at them, unmoving and unblinking. Hawk was starting to realize that it was a customary pose for the cat, and he got the uncomfortable feeling that Mr. Darcy understood too much for a feline.
