Instead, Hawk couldn’t help noting now that Pia resembled an enticing wood sprite. She was clearly unafraid to wear flats with her petite frame for a working casual look on a tepidly warm August day typical for this part of England. In his own nod to the weather, he had dispensed with anything but a white shirt and tan pants.
Pia looked up and spotted him as she walked across the lawn.
He watched as she hesitated.
After a moment, she continued to move toward him, but with obvious reluctance. He was clearly standing in the direct path of her intended destination—very likely, the pavilion on the property that would serve as one of the backdrops for the wedding.
He tried to break the ice. “I know what you’re thinking.”
She gave him a haughty, disbelieving look.
“We don’t see each other for three years,” he pressed on, “and now we somehow run into each other for the second time in two months.”
“Believe me, it’s no more pleasant for me than it is for you,” she responded, coming to a stop before him.
He scanned her face, angling his head to the side.
He pretended to make his perusal casual, joking even. Still, he caught the way a stray strand of sun-kissed honey-blond hair caressed her cheek gently. He stopped himself from reaching out to touch her soft skin and run his thumb over the outline of her jaw.
Then he made the mistake of picking up the light scent of lavender that he’d associated with her ever since their first night together. He couldn’t help being attracted to her—he just couldn’t act on that attraction.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she demanded.
“I’m checking to see if you’re hiding hors d’oeuvres or canapés somewhere. I wanted to be prepared for another missile attack.”
His attempt at a jest was met with a frosty look.
Pia raised her chin. “I’m here to make sure this wedding proceeds without a hitch.”
“Ah, trying to rehabilitate your image?”
He’d meant to tease and test, and at her momentarily arrested look, he realized he’d guessed correctly.
Pia was still worried about her business. Belinda Wentworth’s almost-wedding had likely blemished Pia’s professional reputation.
In a moment, however, Pia recovered herself, and her eyes sparked. “My only concern is that you and your two compatriots, Easterbridge and Melton, are in attendance. I have no idea why another friend of mine would get mixed up with a friend of yours. Look at what Easterbridge did to Belinda!”
“What Colin did to Belinda?” Hawk asked rhetorically. “You mean speaking up as her husband?”
Pia narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together.
Hawk had started out this conversation trying to put Pia at ease, but ruffling her feathers was proving to be irresistible. “I defer to your superior experience with wedding etiquette. Are husbands even allowed to speak?”
“The marquess needn’t have done so at the wedding. A nice, private communication from his attorney to hers would have sufficed.”
“Perhaps Easterbridge had little notice of Belinda’s impending wedding to Dillingham. Perhaps he did what he could to prevent a crime from occurring.” Hawk arched a brow. “Bigamy is a crime in many places, including New York, you know.”
“I’m well aware of that!”
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
Pia gave him a repressive look, and then eyed him suspiciously. “How much notice did you have of Easterbridge’s actions?”
“I wasn’t even aware that Easterbridge was married to Belinda.”
Hawk was glad he could set the record straight because Pia obviously suspected him of double-dealing as a wedding guest of Dillingham’s but a friend of Easterbridge’s. Not only hadn’t he known about Easterbridge’s past marriage, but he suspected that the only reason he’d been invited to the wedding in June was because Dillingham wanted to cement important social ties, however tenuous up to that point.
“And I have no idea what would have made Belinda wed a friend of yours two years ago, in Las Vegas, of all places,” Pia countered.