Chapter 6 #3
“You mean his ego?” Elizabeth shrugged. Bewilderment crossed one man’s face as amusement burst across the other’s. “I have to ask you, Richard. Does your cousin ever smile? Make small talk? Eat with his fingers?”
“Excuse me?” Darcy said. Small talk? That’s all we did for an hour before she kissed me.
“You used a fork to eat nachos. Who does that?”
“What? No, I didn’t.” Darcy paused, confused. “When?”
“She’s right,” Bingley guffawed. “At the football game, you were scooping up the cheese with a spoon and pushing the chips onto a fork!”
“It was…it was messy. The chips were—”
“Orange,” Elizabeth inserted. Bingley snorted before wandering off toward Jane, who was across the room, talking with a mutual acquaintance.
Elizabeth looked up at Darcy, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “You really do have a thing about that color, don’t you?” Their eyes met, and her smile faded. “Well, it was a bit messy, I suppose.”
Rich, whose head had been moving back and forth as though at a ping-pong match, burst out laughing. “Wow. Sorry I missed that. Way to behave among the masses, Darcy.”
“I seem to recall your telling me that you hated orange, Elizabeth,” Darcy said lightly.
“Fitzwilliam, a moment!” Darcy closed his eyes upon hearing his aunt’s shrill voice. “Excuse me,” he said quietly, opening his eyes to focus on Elizabeth before slowly walking over to Annabella and her mother.
She was surprised, but only a little, to see Darcy’s quicksilver emotions shift yet again. From friendly-ish to anger yet again. It annoyed her. It annoyed her more that, no matter what expression he wore, he was so handsome.
Rich looked at Elizabeth. “Join me for a drink at the bar? I promise Annabella hasn’t booby-trapped the cocktails.”
Her gaze fell on Rich as she considered his offer.
Both men were tall, but Darcy was slimmer, and his dark eyes, wavy chestnut hair, and somber expression were a contrast to the more robust Rich’s mirthful eyes, dark red hair, and perfectly groomed mustache and goatee.
He looked like and acted like a player. Maybe he’s the charming version of his dour cousin.
She smiled and agreed, and within five minutes, Rich learned she was in marketing, was able to speak knowledgeably about current affairs and literature, and could name the starting lineup of last year’s Yankees.
“Please.” He pressed his card into Elizabeth’s hand. “I don’t want to pester you for yours, so you take my number. I have seriously great seats, and I can’t always use them. It’s your choice: pick a game with me or take your friends.”
He squeezed her hand. “It was lovely to meet you, but I have to go. I have dinner plans, but first,” he said, nodding his head grimly toward Annabella, Darcy, and his aunt, “duty calls. I must forge into the headwaters and say my goodbyes. Be in touch, all right?”
He took a step before turning back, an odd expression on his face. “Keep an eye on my cousin, won’t you? You appear to be one of the only people he knows here, and he might need you to rescue him from strangers. Or family.” He winked and moved away.
Elizabeth Bennet, white knight, rescues Fitzwilliam Darcy, damsel in distress.
She muffled a giggle and looked at Rich’s card.
Hmm, the UN. Flexing his diplomatic skills here too.
The two cousins seemed like yin and yang.
Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. Darcy needed someone to balance his unbearable darkness of being.
She wondered whether he was actually upset over being teased about his aversion to orange.
Best not to wave a carrot at him. And when did she say she didn’t like orange? She didn’t remember that conversation.
“I thought we were past our mutual misunderstanding about orange.”
Startled, Elizabeth looked up from the card Rich had handed her.
Darcy stood, looming over her, wearing yet another version of his angry face.
She smiled up at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Perhaps, though you seem a bit confused about my affection for orange. I must say, you have many amusing habits that bear further inquiry.”
“And in my cousin, you’ve found a new comrade with whom to make sport of me?”
Elizabeth tapped the card against his lapel. “He works at the UN? He seems less, um, diplomatic than I would have expected.”
“He wasn’t in uniform. His tact and manners seem to be woven into its fabric. Take it off and he’s a loose cannon.”
“Which sinks ships,” Elizabeth said slowly, wrinkling her brow in thought. “We’ve had this conversation before, I think.”
Darcy silently gazed at her. Elizabeth wasn’t sure whether she should be amused or offended by the once-over. Boarding school manners but no one taught him not to stare? Finally, feeling a bit of a blush coming on from his intense attention, she asked, “Where’s your date? Miss Bertram, was it?”
“What?” He shrugged. “Last week? She wasn’t my date. She’s…no one.”
“Really? She appeared quite familiar with you.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Come on—a rich hot blonde? I thought they lined up whenever you wanted one.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Elizabeth. Are you referring to that stupid joke Charles made?”
“A joke? Are you telling me you came alone tonight?”
“Did you?”
They stared at each other. Elizabeth had never noticed that his eyes were gray, a dark, stormy gray framed by the kind of thick lashes she could only achieve with a little help from Bobbi Brown’s lushest mascara.
His eyes burned into hers, and she felt his fingers softly touch her arm.
“Elizabeth, I think you misunderstand me.”
“I don’t think so.” She felt a spreading warmth on her arm and tried to pull it away.
Darcy shook his head and grasped her wrist. “We never talked…you never talked—”
Oh, it’s my fault you cut and ran? And you wonder why I don’t want to talk? Elizabeth frowned. “No…I think we’re clear.”
His brow furrowed. “Why do you always end this conversation?”
Elizabeth bit her bottom lip and sighed. His words from that night rang in her ears. “This is wrong. We can’t do this.”
“It seems like the right thing to do. Talking makes it far more complicated than it needs to be. Needed to be.”
“Is it that complicated?” His hand slid from her wrist and clasped her fingers. His eyes bore into hers. “I just want to have a conversation with you. Tonight, over dinner?”
Dammit. Elizabeth had no idea what to say, but his intensity was compelling. Gradually, the warmth that his hand had stirred in her dissipated, and loud, heated voices from the other side of the room overwhelmed them. She watched Darcy close his eyes and take a deep breath.
“Excuse me. Please don’t leave.”
He turned and stalked to other side of the room where his aunt was in a loud argument with the gallery owner over the mess created by Annabella’s chaotic audience participation.
She watched him hunch over and grab his aunt’s hand as it jabbed at the gallery owner’s chest. He’s in charge of everybody’s business, isn’t he?
Elizabeth went to Jane and let her know she was off to find the ladies’ room.
Her sister didn’t pick up on the cue to accompany her, so Elizabeth walked alone to the stairwell.
She found the stairs crowded with bemused gallery-goers weighing in on Annabella’s performance before they headed off to the next big thing.
Elizabeth used the restroom then walked outside for some fresh air.
She decided to text Charlotte. Perhaps she would ask her to be her “emergency phone call” to save her from Darcy at an agreed upon time.
If she decided to go with him. Just in case.
“Well, Elizabeth Bennet. What are you doing here? Singles-slumming at the galleries?” The smooth, knowing voice startled her.
“George?” Elizabeth tucked her phone into her bag and saw the blinding smile of George Wickham. “What are you doing here?”
“I mentioned that I knew Darcy, right? I know his cousin the ‘artiste’ too. I wanted to come support her, um, coming out.”
Elizabeth stifled a giggle.
“Oh, I missed it, didn’t I? She already emerged from her cocoon?”
Elizabeth laughed. “Oh, she definitely spread her wings. Her mother seems pretty irked.”
“Oh Lord—Catherine is here?” George leaned closer to her. “So if the fun is already over, how about you and I go get a drink? And I don’t mean coffee this time.” He tugged on her hand.
“Get your hands off her.”
Elizabeth whirled around at the low, angry sound of Darcy’s voice. He looked furious, his face flushed. “You heard me, Wickham. Get the hell out of here.”
George let go of Elizabeth’s hand. “Oh now, Darcy. Be reasonable. You have to have every beautiful woman in New York, don’t you?”
Her head shot up, and Elizabeth fixed her eyes on George. He was sneering, and he looked defiant, but the edge in his voice held a slight quaver.
Darcy, who had been holding onto the door handle, let it go and moved toward them. “I won’t tell you again. Get. Out. Of. Here. Now.”
George put his hand on his chest and bent his head to Elizabeth. “He’s in a mood. Be careful, Lizzy.” He turned and sauntered away. “Call me if you’re up for that drink.”
She watched him go and then, feeling Darcy’s looming presence, turned around. He was breathing heavily and clenching his fists.
“What’s with the caveman act?”
“What?”
“Were you going to hit him?”
He scoffed. “I’ve tried that. Doesn’t work. He keeps coming back like a bad penny.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flared. “He wasn’t coming here to start a fight. He wanted to see the performance.”
“Like hell he did.” Darcy stared at her, his face cold. “You were going to go out with him?”
“He’s a friend.”
“No.” Darcy appeared even angrier, almost wild. Elizabeth took a step back.
“He’s…he is not a man to befriend. He is not a good man.”
“I meet a lot of men. He’s certainly not among the worst. He has nice manners.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed you know a lot of men. Fond of athletic types, are you?”
Her jaw dropped. She was tired of all the work it took to have a conversation with this man. “Yes,” Elizabeth said icily. “And they’re all more pleasant company than you.”
“Elizabeth, please,” Darcy said in an urgent voice. “That didn’t come out right. I’d really like to talk with you.”
She shook her head, pulled out her phone, and sent Jane a quick text before walking to the curb to hail a cab.
“Then let me take you home. I have a car here. Please.”
Those dark eyes were beseeching her. He knows he screwed up. Too bad.
“No, thank you. I live in Jersey—too far out of your comfort zone.”