“My mother’s family owns some companies here.”
“She’s American?”
“Um. She was, yes.”
“Oh.”Was? Oh. “So you are a citizen of the world astride the pond.”
“Barring that unfortunate imagery, yes, I suppose so.”
Elizabeth felt the spreading warmth of the alcohol and the lovely effects of the Vicodin. She snuggled deeper under her blanket and gazed through the dim light at Darcy. He still hadn’t shaved. Grubbiness became him. She watched him place another log on the fire and turn back to face her.
“You look good with a beard.”
“What?”
“Then your father is the British one? The one who dubbed you Ferdinand?”
“Fortunately for me, neither of my parents were inclined to name their son after a bull or a bear or a rabbit. It’s Fitzwilliam, remember?” He bent over, adjusted her ice pack, then sat on the floor and leaned back against the sofa.
“Oh, sorry. I’m a bit fuzzy,” she yawned. “Well, Peter is a nice name for a rabbit or a boy,” she insisted. “Your father?”
“He passed away a few years ago.”
“Oh. When your mother did?”
“Er…no. That was longer ago.”
“When you were a boy?” she asked sadly.
“I was sixteen.”
“You’re an orphan.”
Darcy played with a loose thread on his sweater, avoiding her curious stare. “I’m twenty-eight, hardly an orphan.”
“Are there more of you besides you and your sister?”
“You ask a lot of questions. Are you always this inquisitive?”
“You intrigue me. I’m sorry to hear that you’ve lost your parents, and I’m sorry if I was rude for asking.”
He turned away from her, drew his knees up, and leaned on them, staring into the flames. “My father died of pancreatic cancer five years ago. It was…fast and painful. I think he was happy to let go.”
She reached out and put her hand on his arm. “Because it was so awful?”
He sighed. “Not as painful as the previous decade. He…drank. He never got over the accident.”
“That’s how your mother died? A car accident?”
He nodded and mumbled a few words.
Elizabeth clenched his arm a little tighter.Oh God.“Come here.”
He turned around and shook his head. “Um, why?”
“I’m not going to test your cushions for firmness; I need your help.”
Darcy immediately scooted closer to her. “What’s wrong?”
