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Tutors. Boarding schools. Penthouses. His experience was so alien to her that he might as well have been from another country. By the time Mary, Kitty, and Lydia had been in high school, their parents had been able to afford a local private day school, but Elizabeth and Jane had gone to public school. Pemberley was lovely to admire, but every room reminded her that she didn’t belong here.
It would be best for her own emotional well-being if she simply thanked Will and left, but the very thought hurt her heart. His every look in her direction gave her goosebumps. If she left now, she felt strongly that she’d be missing out on something vital and important.
Darcy brought them back to the grand foyer, which was now empty except for a somber Secret Service agent posted near the front door. Darcy glanced up the stairs. “Would you like to go upstairs and select a bedroom?” he asked. “I’m afraid Bing has the one with the best view and Fitz has the one with the biggest bed, but there are twelve others to choose from. And each has its own bathroom.”
She regarded him blankly.
“Or would you prefer to stay at the guest house?” he asked hurriedly. “Some of the Secret Service agents are staying there, but plenty of rooms are unoccupied. And it houses the pool table and home theater.”
She swallowed. “I’m staying here?” Her heart pounded against her ribs, but she didn’t know whether from fear or anger.
A line formed between his brows. “Yes, of course…I thought…”
“Were you planning to consult me on your plans for my day? Or did you just assume that once I got in your limo I’d put out for you?” She said it with a smile, but a brittle edge of sarcasm in her voice.
The agent near the door made a choking noise. Will glared at him, and the man swiftly averted his eyes.
“I climbed into your limo for the sole purpose of apologizing to you,” she continued, pointing her finger at Will. “I received your letter and regretted misjudging you. This visit is not about becoming your love toy!”
The agent snorted.
Will ignored him. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. It appears I made another assumption.” He rubbed his hand over his face, taking a deep breath. “I was hoping you could stay tonight so that you could have dinner with us—and meet my sister, who is arriving in the morning.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “My intentions were not…dishonorable. I didn’t expect you to—I mean, I thought you’d stay in a guest room. There’s a lock on the door and everything.”
The energy drained from Elizabeth’s body, leaving her feeling weak and more than a little ridiculous. He had offered a guest room or even the guest house. Certainly, he wouldn’t plan to seduce a woman ensconced in another building surrounded by federal agents. Why do I always jump to the worst conclusions with Will?
It was all so implausible—the idea that he just wanted her company and conversation. “Why me?” The words burst out before she could censor them. “I’m just an aid worker from an annoying nouveau-riche family.”
Will gaped at her. “Why you? I-I”—he pushed a hand through already unruly, dark locks—“God, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.” He shook his head in wonderment. “You’re the woman I’ve been waiting for: smart, beautiful, funny, well-spoken…the whole package.”
The Secret Service agent was assiduously studying the flower arrangement in the corner.
Elizabeth took some time to absorb these words. Her hand went to her throat in surprise. “W-Wow.” Her voice trembled. “I-I didn’t know.” His admission was so much more than she had expected.
Taking both her hands in his, he drew them to his chest, pulling her closer. “Do you believe me?”
How could she disbelieve such a declaration? She swallowed thickly. “Oh, yeah.” Now her hands shook for an entirely different reason. She forced herself to examine her feelings unflinchingly; there was no denying she viewed him differently from anyone else she had ever met. Even when compared to men she had dated. And didn’t that give her pause?
Will stepped closer, his eyes on her mouth. He must have resolved to ignore the Secret Service agent. He wants to kiss me again. Her lips tingled at the thought.
But just as he bent his head to hers, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed across the marble floor. Will raised his head, dropped his hands, and stepped away from her as Bing skidded to a stop beside him. “What is it?” he demanded, his eyes still fixed on Elizabeth.
Bing cleared his throat. “Um…we got a call from the agent down at the gate. There’s…there’s a woman who—well, she claims the President of the United States kidnapped her niece.”
***
I’m having the strangest day.
After clarifying the Gardiners’ identity to Will, Elizabeth—mortified that she hadn’t thought of them in her whirlwind tour of Pemberley—spoke to her aunt on the phone. Aunt Madeline’s late-60s radical consciousness had been reignited by her encounter with the Secret Service agents, whom she referred to as “jack-booted thugs.” However, a five-minute conversation with Elizabeth allayed the older woman’s fears that her niece was being held in a secure government facility. And the Gardiners readily accepted Will’s invitation to visit Pemberley, which Elizabeth relayed.
The lead Secret Service agent, a stone-faced guy named Kinski, had opposed the idea. Elizabeth was a known quantity, having attended previous events with the president and traveled on Air Force One. But Kinski had insisted he would need at least 24 hours to thoroughly vet her relatives.
Will, who’d never struck her as particularly spontaneous, surprised Elizabeth by firmly informing Kinski that the Secret Service had an hour to check out the Gardiners before he had them admitted. Will might have been influenced by Aunt Madeline’s threats to apprise the lurking reporters that her niece had been kidnapped by the president.
The whole situation made Elizabeth squirm. She was loath to cause Will any more trouble, particularly after making such egregious assumptions about his intentions. Relations between them were proceeding smoothly for once, and she was eager to enjoy more of his company.
Will’s condescending, abrupt side hadn’t appeared at all, except when the Secret Service agent had pushed him too far. Being on vacation in familiar surroundings made even the most type-A president more mellow. Experiencing this side of him was revelatory; this was the Will who had written the letter that made her regret her anger on Air Force One.
Of cour
