Various snorting sounds were heard behind Charles’s napkin.
“Hello, Elizabeth.”
And there he was—in dark gray trousers, a black shirt, and a black jacket. The man in black. Wearing the same pair of overpriced Italian shoes as when they’d first met. Looking thinner, perhaps a bit tired, but glowing with intensity.
“Hello. How are you?”
“Well, thank you. And you?”
“Fine.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear it.”
Charles sighed loudly. “Oh, sit down, for God’s sake. My neck hurts looking up at you.”
Darcy helped Caroline into a chair and took the empty one beside Elizabeth. “This isn’t quite the way I’d hoped to have dinner with you,” he said quietly.
“Trust me—this isn’t the way I wanted to have dinner with anyone.” Elizabeth took a sip of water and turned to her new seatmate. “Are you good with your fists, or do you prefer swords or pistols?”
“Pardon?” Darcy bit back a smile; she was parrying with him already. The flowers had been a good idea.
“I’m afraid you might be challenged to a duel.” She flashed him a smile and raised her eyebrows.
Darcy tilted his head toward her. “A choice of weapons? I wouldn’t suspend any pleasure of yours.”
Elizabeth bit her lip and looked over his head.
“Excuse me. That’s my seat.” Bill Collins stood behind Darcy, balancing two plates piled with food, a bottle of Stella Artois sticking out of each jacket pocket.
Darcy turned around slowly and eyed Collins.
“You’rewith Elizabeth?” At Collins’s nod, Darcy looked at Elizabeth.
“You’re withhim?” he asked in a low voice that betrayed his disbelief.
“Would you prefer George Wickham?”
“I can explain that.”
“Hey, Bill.” Charles reached behind Jane and tapped his arm. “There’s an empty seat by my sister.”
“But, but…” Bill’s head swiveled back and forth. He sighed and carried his overflowing plates to the empty seat beside Caroline. He set one plate there and put the other in front of the horrified woman. A small bit of gooey cheese dripped onto her Michael Kors bag. Darcy felt an urgent squeeze on his arm and heard an angry hiss in his ear. “Get him away from me.”
“Er, sorry, Caroline,” Darcy replied in a cool voice. “If you’d care to mingle a bit, I noticed your old friend Chet Pilmon at the bar.”
Caroline seized her bag and disappeared. Bill picked up the plate intended for Elizabeth and began scraping scallops, endive, and gnocchi onto his own dish.
“Well, that was a bit awkward,” Jane said softly.
“You think?” While Elizabeth certainly didn’t want to spend an evening with Bill Collins chewing in her ear, she thought Fitzwilliam Darcy was one rich, officious jerk for taking the man’s seat.Even if he did smell better.And look better.
Bill cleared his throat. “I’m Bill Collins, Elizabeth’s companion for the evening. And you are…?”
Darcy nodded and thanked Bill for the seat. “Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Fitz—? Are you related to Annabella De Bourgh? She’s brilliant!” Bill, his mouth full of spinach puffs, flushed with excitement. “I’m sorry to have missed her event last month. You do know her motto, don’t you? ‘Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.’ Brilliant.”
“Wait a second,” Charles said. “Isn’t that from Dilbert?”
