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In the long silence that followed, Darcy tried to concentrate on the sensation of caffeine coursing through his blood. “I’m sure someone else will catch your eye eventually,” Fitz said.
“Yeah,” Darcy said without conviction. The last thing he wanted was to return to escorting around women like Caroline Bingley. “Elizabeth was just different…”
His friends regarded him quizzically.
“It’s her eyes.”
“Her eyes?” Bing echoed dubiously.
“It’s like she really sees me…and knows who I am—really knows. She even teases me. Teases me! Nobody does that except you guys.”
They stared at him with their mouths agape. Why? He hadn’t said anything earth-shattering.
“Shit,” Bing whispered, “you’re in love with her.”
Of course. I’ve known that for months.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Darcy said.
Great. Now it was obvious even to his friends.
“I’m with Bing on this one, Darce,” Fitz said. “You sound like a man in love.”
I need to choose my words more carefully.
“I’m not in love with her,” he said firmly. “This will pass.”
I’m so screwed.
“Well, it hardly matters.” Fitz shrugged.
What the hell? It totally matters!
Fitz continued, “She never wants to see you again, so the point is moot.”
I’ll never see her again, but I’m still screwed. Totally screwed.
His stomach lurched with nausea that had nothing to do with the hangover. He lifted the coffee cup to his lips, but it was empty. Drunkenness had a lot to recommend it; last night he had effectively drowned his memories of Elizabeth in bourbon, but the hangover wasn’t proving as effective. Damn it.
It didn’t prevent him from fantasizing about how he would behave differently if he did encounter Elizabeth. I can be sensitive and kind, can’t I? I could show her I care about her and respect her—and her family. Right? Demonstrate that she’s not one in a string of imaginary women parading through my bedroom.
Darcy was immediately distracted by a vision of Elizabeth in his bedroom. He shook his head quickly to dispel the image. There was no point fantasizing about something that would never come to pass. Focus on the present, Darcy. He smiled grimly at his friends. “All right, time to leave for Pemberley.”
***
Elizabeth squinted into the bright sun and surveyed all the other people crowded around Pemberley’s gates, not at all sure she should be there. It was a bit surreal; she’d never expected to go near the president’s estate.
The wheels had been set in motion the night before when Elizabeth’s Uncle Thomas folded down the front page of the newspaper and announced to the room at large, “The president is coming to the Hamptons.”
Elizabeth had been stretched out on the sofa of the little living room in their rented cabin. After dinner, they had taken a long walk on the beach—all the exertion she was capable of on her first day of vacation. But her uncle’s words dashed away all her drowsiness in an instant.
Aunt Madeline lifted her eyes from her mystery novel, but whatever she had intended to say was drowned out by Elizabeth’s undignified squawk. “What? Here? Now?”
Uncle Thomas raised his bushy eyebrows. “Yes. Tomorrow, in fact.”
“He has a house right on the water,” Aunt Madeline chimed in. “Called Pemberley. It’s been in his family for three generations. I hear it’s gorgeous, but I haven’t been out that way myself.” She gave a little laugh. “That’s not exactly our part of the Hamptons.” The Gardiners’ cozy rented cabin was very nice, but it was a far cry from Billionaire’s Row.
Her uncle folded the newspaper in his lap. “I would imagine there will be quite a crowd gathered to see him arrive.”
