Page 84 of Me and Mr. Darcy

I send up a silent thank you to Stella, thanking her for sending me this gorgeous dress. For once I feel sexy, instead of frumpy.

‘Would you like my coat?’ he offers.

See. As well as being sex-on-legs he’s even Mr Chivalrous. Not like abandon-you-on-the-dance-floor Spike.

‘Oh, no, thanks. I’m not cold.’ I smile, gesturing flirtily to my un-goosepimply shoulders on to which I’ve rubbed this glittery bronze body cream.

‘I insist,’ he says, draping it round my shoulders.

‘No, honestly—’ I protest, but it’s too late, I’m already being swamped in a black frock coat. I feel a twinge of disappointment. It covers up every inch of shimmery shoulder and completely hides my sexy sequinned spaghetti straps.

‘It’s to protect your modesty,’ he explains. ‘Your dress is very revealing.’

‘It is?’ I say with surprise, ‘Oh, OK, thanks.’

Of course! I hadn’t thought of that. I’m so used to living in a world of J-Lo and Madonna and dresses slashed to the navel that my dress doesn’t seem revealing at all. But I guess it’s very different for Mr Darcy: he’s used to women being covered up. If we were to go out with each other I’d probably have to be much more demure. Which is a bit of a shame, as I do have some nice little tops I wear in the summer.

‘So how are you liking your stay in Bath?’ he asks, moving closer.

My chest tightens. ‘Oh, it’s so beautiful here. All the buildings and the architecture and the river,’ I gabble nervously.

On second thoughts, I’m not that fussed about those summer tops. I like turtle necks. And things that button up to the chin. Yep. I lurve things that button up to the chin. In fact, I’ll just do up this collar right now.

‘Ah, yes, the River Avon.’ He nods, and I feel his warm breath against my cheek.

Mid-buttoning, my fingers seem to get all tangled up.

And did my knees just wobble?

‘I have a surprise for you.’

‘You do?’ My heart gives a little hiccup. I love surprises. What can it be?

‘Allow me.’ He holds out his arm for me to take.

I remember John, the architect, letting the door swing in my face a few weeks ago. How I walked home alone in the snow, freezing my ass off and dreaming of meeting a man like Mr Darcy.

And now look at me, I marvel, glancing up at the real thing and hitting ‘delete’ on the memory button of bad dates and erasing every last one of them. Delete, delete, delete.

‘Why, thank you, sir,’ I say, my mouth twisting into a smile.

I link my arm through his and for a moment he studies my face, his dark eyes drinking me in. Then abruptly his mouth breaks into a smile. ‘Shall we?’

God, he’s just so masterful.

And, yes, I know it’s shockingly unfeminist of me to find that incredibly sexy.

A cage of butterflies releases in my stomach and I nod happily.

So go ahead: shoot me.

Chapter Twenty-four

We walk arm in arm. Mr Darcy leads me to the far side of the balcony, down a flight of steps and on to a small path that winds its way through the gardens. Everything is so still and quiet. Just the sound of footsteps tapping rhythmically against the paving stones.

After a few minutes we turn a corner. Ahead of me is a huddle of outbuildings and as we near them Mr Darcy makes a beeline for the one on the far left. My mind goes into overdrive. Is this the surprise? Is there something in there? Is he going to give me a present? The door swings open and I get a whiff of hay.

My mind comes to a screeching halt. Holy shit. It’s a hay barn. And everyone knows what happens in hay barns, don’t they? I feel an almighty tremor in my chest. So this is the surprise.