“What would they say?” Richard asked, grinning at Darcy. “‘Brooding Makes Perfect’? ‘Home is Where the Scowl Is’?”
Darcy considered this seriously. “More likely ‘The Butler Did It,’ or ‘Don’t Believe the Alibi.’” He paused. “And I don’t scowl.”
All three men looked at him, then burst into laughter. But not at his joke.
“Right,” Malcolm wiped his eyes. “And I don’t charm my way through committee meetings.”
“Mal has a point,” Richard added. “You do have a rather impressive scowl. It’s practically a family heirloom at this point.”
“Your grandfather would be proud,” Malcolm agreed. “The Darcy glower, passed down through generations.”
“I prefer to think of it as thoughtful contemplation,” Darcy said.
“You can think of it as interpretive dance if you like,” Richard replied. “Still looks like a scowl to the rest of us.”
Charles raised his glass. “To Darcy’s scowl—may it continue to intimidate junior associates and impress distinguished clients.”
Despite himself, Darcy felt his mouth twitch. “You’re all ridiculous.”
“But we’re right,” Malcolm leaned back in his chair. “Though I have to admit, Elizabeth seems to have softened some of your sharper edges. You were almost jovial during dinner.”
“Almost,” Richard said. “It was deeply unsettling. I kept waiting for the real Darcy to emerge and correct someone’s grammar.”
“I don’t correct people’s grammar,” Darcy protested.
“You do it with your face,” Charles . “That little tightening around the eyes when someone says ‘between you and I.’”
“Or when they confuse ‘who’ and ‘whom,’” Malcolm added.
“That particular mistake is egregious.” Darcy caught himself. “Which proves nothing.”
Richard grinned. “Of course not.”
Malcolm leaned forward and grew more serious. “Look, all joking aside—we like Elizabeth. She’s sharp, she gives as good as she gets, and she seems to enjoy your company, which is rather a Christmas miracle.”
“Thank you for that overwhelming endorsement,” Darcy said.
“But . . .” Malcolm’s voice trailed off.
“What Malcolm means,” Richard interjected, “is that you don’t need to rush into anything. It’s only been three months. Scarf or no scarf, you’re not under any obligation here.”
“No pressure to declare undying devotion just yet,” Malcolm agreed. “You can take your time, see how things develop. No need to panic about matching jumpers and joint bank accounts.”
Darcy turned his glass in his hands, considering. “I wasn’t aware I appeared to be panicking.”
“Perhaps they mistook the look.” Charles gestured at Darcy's face. “The one you get when you’re trying to solve a complex case. All furrowed brows and intense concentration.”
“Perhaps because relationships aren’t meant to be solved like financial problems?” Richard suggested.
Darcy took a sip of his drink. “Aren’t they? Gather evidence, analyse the facts, reach a logical conclusion?”
“Dear God,” Malcolm muttered. “We’re going to have to stage an intervention.”
Charles cleared his throat. “Honestly, I think there’s something to be said for instinct. Sometimes you just know. When it’s right, it’s right. All the careful deliberation in the world won’t change that fact.”
The other three stared at him.
“What?” Charles looked around. “It’s true.”
