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The big smile on Caroline’s face attested to his success. “I would love to, darling!”
She slid a perfectly manicured hand into his, obviously expecting him to escort her to the dance floor at that exact moment. Very well.
Just as they stepped onto the dance floor, the band struck up a slow song. Pressing his lips together, Darcy resisted the urge to curse. He had anticipated keeping her at arm’s length, but now he would need to perform what his friends in high school laughingly called “the bear hug,” holding her close while rotating in minute circles.
She smiled like a wolf that had just caught its prey, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him so close that he was forced to put his hands on her waist. Yeesh, there was nothing to it; she was so skinny. Hopefully Caroline would one day find a man who appreciated that build. Darcy much preferred a woman with some curves, fine green eyes, and a headful of dark, lustrous hair…
He dragged his attention back to Caroline with an effort of will. She likely expected some conversation. Darcy cleared his throat. “The band is quite good.” There. Inane, but sufficient.
Fortunately, Caroline was quite eager to bear the burden of future conversation. “Oh yes! You should have heard the band at my mother’s birthday party. Was it her fiftieth or fifty-fifth? Well, we had them set up in a tent in the backyard…”
Why did slow songs always last approximately five times longer than fast ones?
When a new song began, Darcy mumbled something to Caroline about needing to find Bing. She was prepared with a request that he fetch her a beverage, one of her favorite ploys to prolong their time together. But Darcy’s patience was exhausted. Peering over her shoulder, he announced, “There’s Senator Ostrevsky! Bing and I need to talk to him.” Without awaiting a response, Darcy hurried away in search of Bing.
Fortunately, Bing was nearby. Unfortunately, he was chatting with both Jane and Elizabeth Bennet. Darcy’s words to Hilliard echoed mockingly in his head. They were even less true now. Learning about her Red Cross job had rendered her much more intriguing.
Aware of Caroline’s eyes on him, Darcy sidled up to Bing as though he had Important Presidential Matters to discuss. Naturally, the moment he appeared, all conversation ceased—one distinct disadvantage of his office.
The moment all eyes turned to him, Darcy recalled how horrific his small-talk skills were. Elizabeth’s frank gaze particularly weighed on him, seemingly demanding that he be witty and charming, but Darcy’s communication skills were more along the lines of wonky and policy-driven. He wondered if he could wow her with a sharp analysis of the economic implications of historical ethnic divisions in the Balkans.
“Are you ladies enjoying the evening?” He managed not to cringe (outwardly at least) over asking the world’s most inane question.
Jane raised her voice to be heard over the music. “Oh yes, it’s lovely. So many interesting people, and the food is delightful!”
In the following pause, Darcy thought Elizabeth might chime in, but she regarded him with an indecipherable expression. Th
is did nothing to lessen her attractiveness; instead he was intrigued by the alteration in her behavior.
Finally, Bing cleared his throat. “The prosciutto melon balls are great.”
“I haven’t had any yet,” Darcy said. If only he had a drink to serve as the focus of his attention. Elizabeth’s silence was disconcerting. The flustered, chatty girl was gone, and in her place stood a woman with a cool, detached gaze, which contrasted sharply with her sister’s polite I’m-trying-to-please-the-president smile.
“Ms. Bennet,” Darcy addressed Elizabeth. “I saw an image of you on the Red Cross screen. I didn’t realize you work for them.”
“Yes,” she said, holding herself very still and taking deep, even breaths.
After a few moments, everyone realized that Elizabeth had no intention of elaborating.
“Elizabeth has been all over the world with the Red Cross. She’s part of their refugee crisis team,” Jane volunteered. Elizabeth didn’t even nod in agreement with her sister’s observation. It was an odd change in behavior for the previously uncontrollable babbler. Was she embarrassed about her previous behavior? Or about her family’s? God knows, Darcy would be mortified by such relations.
He still found himself desiring her good opinion. “I’m sure that’s a very rewarding career,” he said, holding her gaze.
Her lips pressed tightly together, but a muscle twitched in her jaw. “Yes.”
When it became clear that Elizabeth would say no more, her sister gave a nervous little laugh.
Darcy was once again that ninth-grade boy who had been ridiculed by Catherine Hopkins. Of course, he had made a strategic error by asking her to homecoming in front of all her friends—and he had mispronounced it so it sounded like comb-humming. Still, he would like to believe he had acquired more communication skills since then, but it was quite possible he hadn’t. He had expected that becoming president would come with some privileges, like pleasant conversations with intriguing women.
But he hadn’t gotten elected president by giving up easily. Let’s try a different approach. “The White House is considering a new refugee initiative. What do you think is the area of greatest need?” Darcy smiled pleasantly at Elizabeth.
Her eyes were cold and flinty as she stared back. “I doubt you could benefit from my opinion. I’m a bit of an intellectual lightweight, as you know.”
Jane’s eyes widened in shock. Bing started coughing. Before anyone spoke, Elizabeth held up her phone. “Sorry, urgent call. Please excuse me.” She turned away from them and was immediately swallowed up by the crowd.
Jane’s eyes were focused on her wine glass. “Elizabeth, um, wasn’t feeling well today.”
“That’s too bad,” Bing said sincerely, careful not to look in Darcy’s direction.
