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“Can we go?” The words were out of Elizabeth’s mouth before she had a chance to take them back—or think them through.
“I didn’t know you were so interested in politics,” her uncle said.
Elizabeth squirmed in her seat. “Well, I’m not usually, but…you know…President Darcy has done some good things….He’s brought dignity back to the office. And his legislative achievements…” God, I sound like a New York Times editorial. “I really admire him,” she finished lamely.
Yeah, I admire his butt and his eyes and his kisses…
“Hmm. I wouldn’t mind going.” With a little shrug, Uncle Thomas returned to his paper.
Aunt Madeline—the more perceptive of the two—eyed Elizabeth with interest. With good reason. Elizabeth was hardly the type to get excited at the chance to meet a celebrity. “Your mother said Jane had dated the president’s chief of staff. Did you have a chance to meet the president?”
Elizabeth ran both hands through her hair. How much should she tell her aunt? “Um…yeah. I met him. He’s”—how could you describe a man who was so complicated and infuriating and attractive all at once?—“intense…”
“I would think you wouldn’t care about seeing his limo if you already met the man,” her uncle observed from behind his newspaper.
Here was her chance to change her mind, to explain it had been a momentary whim that she had reconsidered. Elizabeth swallowed hard. “I…um…want to show my support. He’s done so much for the environment. And he’s supportive of refugees”—she gestured vaguely—“and there might be protesters, so people should be there to show support.”
Aunt Madeline regarded her with pursed lips. “We do support his policies, and it would be interesting. I’ve never seen a sitting president.” She shrugged, pulling out her iPad. “Maybe I can find out approximately what time he’ll be arriving.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to tell her aunt to forget the whole idea but then closed it again. She needed to apologize. Will probably thought she never wanted to see him again. If he saw her—even just in passing—he might understand that she was sorry for misjudging him. Of course, he might not see her at all, but it was better than doing nothing.
And now they were here—outside Pemberley in a crowd of people who had come to greet the president’s limo upon his arrival in the Hamptons. Many of the locals were reminiscing about other presid
ential arrivals. Others had obviously traveled from long distances merely to glimpse the president through a car window and possibly see him wave. Some had hand-painted signs with messages of support while others had signs objecting to the president’s actions in the Middle East, economic decisions, or other policies.
The police had erected barriers along both sides of Pemberley’s driveway so that the crowds of people wouldn’t block the entrance. The property was surrounded by a tall iron fence and a variety of vegetation; the house wasn’t even visible from the road. The gate stretching across the entrance was patrolled by unsmiling Secret Service officers toting big guns.
Elizabeth and the Gardiners had been standing in the crowd for an hour and remained unsure how much longer they would have to wait. The president didn’t need to keep a tight schedule on his vacation. Absent any shade, the sun shone mercilessly on Elizabeth’s head, and sweat trickled between her shoulder blades under her yellow sundress. The dress was a bit of an indulgence. Will would likely get only a fleeting glimpse of her—if he noticed her at all—but hopefully she would stand out among all the shorts-and-t-shirt-clad onlookers.
Standing out was essential; they were pretty far back in the crowd. Elizabeth thought she would glimpse the cars in the motorcade, but would she see the president inside one? More than once she’d considered just giving up and leaving, but if there was even the slightest chance she might show him how sorry she was for misjudging him…
That hope kept her standing in the hot sun.
Her aunt and uncle hadn’t complained once about the heat or the long wait. They seemed to regard it as an adventure, as if seeing the presidential motorcade was one of the perks of their vacation. Her uncle had struck up a conversation about fishing with another man in the crowd, but her aunt had been giving Elizabeth curious glances all morning.
“Why the sudden interest in presidential motorcades?” Aunt Madeline finally asked.
“I find the president’s limousine fascinating,” Elizabeth said hurriedly. “Did you know that it’s custom made with bullet-proof glass and armor plating so that it could withstand a bomb blast? The doors are nearly a foot thick.”
Aunt Madeline was skeptical. “Mm-hmm. You did extensive research, did you?”
“I looked it up on the Internet last night,” Elizabeth conceded.
Her aunt gave a dry chuckle. “What’s actually going on?”
Elizabeth shrugged with attempted nonchalance. “It’s not every day you get to see the presidential motorcade. It’s kind of cool.”
The other woman squinted at Elizabeth. “Didn’t you meet the president at the state dinner?”
“Sort of?” Elizabeth shrank back from her aunt’s scrutiny.
“Mm-hmm. And you danced with him at a ball?”
Elizabeth swallowed hard. “You’re very well informed.”
“I would imagine that your mother has told everyone she’s ever met.”
I should have expected that. “Is there a problem if I want to see him again?” God, I sound like a girl with a crush.
