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And while he still wasn’t sure about many things, he did know that he didn’t want to see Pia hurt again.
The butler entered, followed by a familiar-looking brunette.
Hawk watched as his mother brightened, and as recognition set in, he was struck with an impending sense of doom, even before the butler spoke.
“Miss Michelene Ward-Fombley has arrived.”
Eleven
Pia looked up as an attractive brunette walked into the room, and immediately and inexplicably sensed that something was wrong.
The Dowager Duchess of Hawkshire, however, rose gracefully from her seat on the settee, a smile wreathing her face. “Michelene, darling, how lovely of you to join us here.”
Michelene stepped forward, and the two women exchanged air kisses.
Pia glanced around the room, noticing that Lucy had a worried expression while Hawk was still as a rock by the mantel.
Following Lucy’s lead, Pia rose from her seat as introductions were made.
“…and this is Miss Pia Lumley, who has been ever so helpful as Lucy’s wedding coordinator,” the duchess said with a smile.
Pia shook hands with Michelene, whom she pegged as a cool self-possessed blueblood. Though the other woman had said only a few words, Pia could tell that Michelene spoke Queen’s English with a distinctive upper-class inflection.
Michelene looked over at the mantel.
“Hawk,” Michelene murmured, her voice low and sultry. Hawk? Not Your Grace? Pia frowned. Exactly what was the status of the relationship between Michelene and Hawk?
Pia knew that never in a million years—not even in the shower—could she imitate Michelene’s smoky tone. She even stuttered during sex—for which she was self-conscious, though Hawk claimed to like it.
“Michelene,” Hawk acknowledged, remaining at his spot by the mantel. “How nice to see you. I wasn’t made aware that you were coming today.”
Pia watched as Hawk threw his mothe
r a meaningful look, which the dowager duchess returned with one—Pia could swear—of the cat who ate the canary. Score one for the dowager, it seemed.
“Did I not mention that Michelene was arriving early for Lucy’s engagement party tomorrow?” the duchess said, raising her brows. “Oh, dear.”
Michelene gave a little laugh. “I hope it’s no inconvenience.”
“Not at all. You are more than welcome here,” Hawk said smoothly, his eyes traveling from Michelene to his mother. “Silderly Park is large enough, of course, to accommodate the occasional unexpected guest.”
Whoever Michelene was, Pia thought, it was clear that she was close to the Carsdales.
Was she, in fact, a former lover of Hawk’s? Pia tamped down the well of jealousy.
“We were just finishing up our discussion of the wedding,” the duchess said as she sat back down. “Won’t you join us, Michelene?”
Pia and Lucy followed the duchess’s lead in retaking their seats.
“Thank you,” Michelene said as she sat down as well. “I believe I would find listening to be vastly informative.” She smiled toward the side of the room where Hawk was standing. “There was a time when I imagined I’d enjoy becoming a wedding planner myself. Unfortunately, life had other plans, and I remained in the fashion business.”
Pia shifted uncomfortably. She wondered whether Hawk and Michelene had not only been lovers, but had come close to a walk down the aisle. Or perhaps Michelene had hoped for a marriage proposal that had never materialized, and Hawk had ended the relationship instead?
Pia mentally braked. She knew she was letting her imagination run away with her. She had no proof that Hawk and Michelene had even dated, let alone come close to marriage. And she was making an assumption that Hawk had ended any relationship between the two.
“Wh-what type of fashion?” Pia blurted, disconcerted by her thoughts.
A second later, she clamped her mouth shut. She was embarrassed by the sudden and unexpected appearance of her stutter. She must be more rattled than she realized.
