One Night with Prince Charming (Aristocratic Grooms #2)(11)
Author: Anna DePalo

True, she’d been called on to help with Tamara’s wedding last month. But that had been a small wedding—mainly family—and had transpired in England, so her involvement hadn’t counted for much in the eyes of New York society. And while she’d also worked on a wedding in Atlanta over the summer, she’d been retained for that function before Belinda’s nuptial debacle.

Now, though, on a breezy day in late September, with clouds overhead and the threat of rain in the air, she walked along one of Manhattan’s tonier side streets, glad she’d worn her belted trench to ward off the threatening elements and even happier for the possibility of a new client.

Finding the house number she was looking for, she stopped and surveyed the impressive double-width, four-story limestone town house. A tall, black, wrought-iron fence guarded the façade, and flower boxes and black shutters framed tall, plate-glass windows. In the center of the building, stone steps ascended to the double-door front entrance at the parlor level. But instead of windows, the parlor floor boasted French doors embraced by tiny balconies.

There was no doubt that Lucy Montgomery came from money. This house was a well-preserved example of Manhattan’s Gilded Age.

Pia ascended the steps and knocked before ringing the doorbell.

Within moments, an older gentleman, dressed in somber black and white rather than a clear uniform, responded. After Pia introduced herself, the butler took her coat and directed her to the parlor.

Pia soon discovered that the parlor was a spectacular room with a high, molded ceiling and a marble mantel. It was decorated in gold and rose and outfitted with antique furniture upholstered in stripes and prints.

She knew she should recognize the furniture style, but for the life of her, she could never remember how to separate Louis XIV style from its successors, Louis XV and Louis XVI. In any case, expensive was expensive.

She sat on one of the couches flanking the fireplace and contemplated her surroundings, taking several deep breaths to calm her nerves. She’d never needed an account more.

She hoped she would sufficiently impress Lucy Montgomery. She’d dressed with care, donning a chic and timeless short-sleeved peach dress and beige pumps, and keeping her jewelry to a minimum. She’d chosen wedding colors, even on an overcast day, because they were cheery and they resonated with brides.

At that moment, the parlor door opened, and with surprising promptness, Lucy appeared, a smile on her face.

Her hostess was a slim, attractive blonde of medium height with hazel eyes. She looked crisp in a salmon-colored shirt and knee-length tan skirt cinched by a wide black belt. Her legs stretched down to strappy sandals and showed off a tan that was courtesy, no doubt, of time spent at one of the sand-dusted retreats favored by the rich or famous or both.

Pia guessed that Lucy was around her own age or younger.

She rose from her seat in time to shake her hostess’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you for scheduling this appointment on such short notice,” Lucy exclaimed, her inflection British. “I was just about to come down the stairs when Ned told me you were here.”

“It was no inconvenience, Ms. Montgomery,” Pia responded with a smile of her own. “Client service is what my business is all about.”

“It’s Lucy, please.”

“Pia, then.”

“Good,” Lucy responded happily, and then glanced at the clock. “I’ll have tea brought in, if that meets with your approval.” She smiled. “We British consider late afternoon to be teatime, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, please. Tea would be wonderful.”

After Lucy had gone to the door and spoken in low tones with a member of the household staff, she returned to sit on the sofa with Pia.

“Now then,” she said. “I’m rather in desperate need of help, I’m afraid.”

Pia tilted her head and smiled. “Many brides come to that conclusion at some point during their engagements. May I offer my congratulations, by the way?”

Lucy lit up. “Thank you, yes. My fiancé is American. I met him while working on an off-Broadway play.”

Pia’s eyebrows rose. “You’re an actress?”

“Shakespearean trained, yes,” Lucy replied without a hint of boast, and then leaned forward conspiratorially and winked. “He was one of the producers.”

Money married money, Pia thought, if only because the people involved tended to move in the same social circles. She’d seen it many times before. And yet, it was clear from the way Lucy lit up that she was in love with her fiancé.

“You see,” Lucy explained, “Derek and I were planning to marry next summer, but I’ve just landed a new role and we need to move up the wedding. Suddenly, everything seems upon us at once. Since I’m currently working in another production—” Lucy spread out her hands helplessly “—I have no time to organize things myself.”

“How quickly would you like to wed?”

Lucy gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m hoping for a New Year’s Eve wedding.”

Pia kept her expression steady. “Three months. Perfect.”

“I should say that the church has been booked and that, quite astonishingly, the Puck Building is available for a reception.”

Pia’s shoulders relaxed. The most important details had been taken care of. Since the church and the reception hall were set for the new date, she wouldn’t have to scout locations.

She and Lucy discussed some other details for a few minutes, until Lucy glanced at the door.

“Ah, tea. Perfect,” Lucy said as a middle-aged woman, obviously one of the household help, appeared with a tray of tea.

Pia felt she was going to like Lucy. Her hostess had a sunny disposition, and there was already a lot to suggest that she would be easy to work with.

Lucy leaned forward as the tray was set down on a table in front of them. “Thank you, Celia.”

“How do you take your tea?” Lucy inquired as Celia departed, and then shot Pia a teasing, self-deprecating look. “No matter how long I’ve been in New York, this is teatime for me. You can imagine the problems it causes when I’m giving a matinee performance!”

Before Pia could respond, Lucy glanced toward the door again. “Hawk,” Lucy acknowledged with a smile. “How nice of you to join us.”

Pia followed the direction that Lucy was looking, and froze.

Hawk. Him.

It wasn’t possible.

What was he doing here?