“I don’t prefer any fairy tales,” she shot back. “N-not anymore.”
Hawk’s smile faded. She didn’t believe in fairy tales anymore, and he felt responsible for robbing her of her innocence in more ways than one.
Of course, all that made it even more imperative that he change her mind and get her to accept his help. He intended to make restitution of sorts.
He pulled some papers from the inside pocket of his blazer. “I suspected that you might have a change of heart once you had a chance to think about what you were getting into with Lucy.”
“You were the one who wanted time to review the contract!” she accused. “I’m within my rights to change my mind, and if you don’t have any recourse, you have only yourself to blame.”
It was true that when Pia had handed Lucy her standard written wedding services contract on Monday, before she’d left Hawk’s house, he’d taken the contract in hand and had asked to review it. But only because he’d thought it would give him another opportunity to interact with her when he brought it back to her.
He’d come here this afternoon directly from work, and was still wearing a navy business suit.
The discussion of the contract, he told himself, would afford him a chance to change her low opinion of him. Maybe he could begin to demonstrate that he wasn’t quite the reprobate she thought he was. Not anymore.
“I did do as I said,” he acknowledged, unfolding the paper in his hand. “I did review it.”
Pia arched a brow. “One wonders why you don’t bring the same thoroughness and discrimination to your choice of dates.”
Hawk stifled the dry chuckle that rose unbidden. “You’ve done some research on me, I take it.”
Pia nodded. “The internet is a wonderful thing. I believe you were referred to on at least one occasion as Jolly Lord James, his Rollicking Rowdy Ruffianness?”
“Ruffian?” Hawk rubbed the bridge of his nose with his finger. “Ah, yes, I believe I had my nose broken at least once in a brawl. A useful thing once I became Hawkshire, as I was able to live up to the profile implied.”
“Charming.”
“And did your research also reveal how I succeeded to the title of Duke of Hawkshire?” he asked with deceptive casualness.
Pia shook her head. “I believe the tabloids were already fully occupied with your ne’er-do-well travails.”
“So I’ve heard,” he deadpanned. “Much to my regret, however, my sojourn as the rollicking younger son of the previous Duke of Hawkshire was cut short when my older brother died from injuries sustained in a boating accident.”
He saw Pia hesitate.
“An early morning phone call awakened me from a pleasant slumber, as I recall,” he went on, searching her gaze. “I still remember the view from your apartment window as the news reached me.”
Pia looked momentarily bewildered. He knew he’d flummoxed her.
“So you departed without a word?”
He nodded. “On the first flight back to London.”
The unexpected news about his brother had changed the trajectory of his life. He’d left Pia’s apartment quietly, while she’d still slept. Then he’d rushed back to London for a bedside vigil that had ended days later when William had taken his last breath.
With the tumult in his life that had followed the tragedy, he’d been able to push Pia to the back of his mind. Then with the space of days and miles, and the weight of his newfound responsibilities as a ducal heir, he convinced himself that it would be better if he didn’t get in touch with her again—if he let matters end as they were.
It had all been convenient, too, he admitted to himself now. Because the truth was that after sleeping with Pia and discovering that she’d been a virgin, he’d had the feeling of being in too deep. It had been a novel and uncomfortable sensation for him. His younger, inconsiderate self had simply been looking for a steamy fling. But he’d been spared the need to figure out how to handle it all by the news of his brother’s tragic accident.
“I’m sorry, however belatedly, for your loss,” Pia said, a look of openhearted feeling transforming her face.
“I’m not asking for your sympathy,” he responded.
He didn’t deserve it. As much as Pia had claimed to have developed a more cynical shell since they’d been lovers, she still, he could tell, possessed a soft-hearted fragility about her that showed how easily she could be hurt.
He was thankful for that sign that he hadn’t changed her too deeply, even though it made her all that more dangerous. To him.
He was here to help, he reminded himself. He was going to make amends for past wrongs, however inadequately, and that’s all.