“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Georgiana.” Elizabeth gave Will a sidelong glance. “Maybe I should return to my room before the others wake up.” He nodded reluctantly.
“Oh, is it a secret? No wonder the Secret Service didn’t warn me. Ha! The Secret Service isn’t in on the secret!” Georgiana giggled at her own joke. “I won’t say anything, I promise! Not even to Bethany, who is my best friend. We’re both on crew together. Oh Will, did you see the video I sent you of the last regatta? Wasn’t it epic?
“Very epic,” Will said with a smile. “Georgie, why don’t you get settled in your room, and I’ll see you at breakfast.”
Georgiana backed toward the door. “Yeah…I’ll do that…right now…I’m so, so sorry…”
Will rubbed his face with his hands. “Just go.”
“But I want Elizabeth to know that I’m really, really sorry…” Will threw a pillow at her. She fled, closing the door behind her.
Elizabeth and Will exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. “I suppose that gets the morning-after awkwardness out of the way,” Elizabeth said.
“I’m sorry about Georgie,” he said with a rueful grin.
Elizabeth waved away the apology. “Georgiana is endearing, and she brought out a different side of you.”
“I’m glad you’re not angry.” He touched his fingers lightly to her cheek. He held her gaze for several long moments until Will lowered his eyes to the bed. “Um…we didn’t…” He cleared his throat. “Last night, we didn’t have much of a chance to talk about this—” He gestured to the space between the two of them.
“We didn’t have much of a chance to talk about anything last night,” Elizabeth observed.
“Is that a complaint Ms. Bennet?” he teased.
“Not at all.” She gave him a quick kiss.
He sighed. “Oh God, Elizabeth, you’ll make me lose my train of thought.” He swallowed hard. “I want to figure this out…establish parameters.”
“Parameters,” she echoed. What a clinical word for a relationship. Was it a relationship? She had assumed…but maybe he just wanted the one night, which would probably be for the best… “What kind?”
“I would like it to be a real relationship. I want to date you, Elizabeth.”
She sucked in her breath. He didn’t deal in small change. “Are you sure? It could be complicated.”
He scowled. “Screw complicated. I don’t have much in my life that’s for me and me alone. I want to grab it with both hands.” He watched her with shining eyes.
Oh. Of course, a real relationship with the president was impossible, but maybe knowing it was doomed would keep it from hurting so much when it ended. It was a theory—or at least an excuse. In any case, she no longer had the willpower to resist him.
His shoulders tightened, and the tendons stood out from his neck as she remained silent. He lowered his head. “If you don’t want to deal with the complications, I could hardly blame you. We might conceal a relationship for a while, but eventually the media will know, and your life will become a zoo.”
She was unable to shake the sensation of preparing to jump into icy water from a great height. “I know…I’ve thought about that…but I’ve tried not dating you”—she swallowed hard—“and I’ve found I don’t enjoy it …I think it’s time to give the other option a try.”
Will’s face lit up like a boy watching fireworks as he stretched out his arms and gathered her to his chest. “Are you sure you want to attempt a relationship with me? It’s not going to be easy.”
She snuggled closer, enjoying the firm hold. At that moment her body was so light and weightless it seemed like it could float off the bed. “I don’t want easy. I want you.”
When she lifted her face, his mouth engulfed hers. Soft velvety lips stroked hers, and her whole body responded; desire raced through her veins. He drew back slightly, meeting her eyes. “If we’re late for breakfast, people might guess the truth.”
Elizabeth smiled against his mouth. “Let’s be late to breakfast…”
***
Darcy swore he could hear birds singing in the shower. At one point, he realized he was whistling. Whistling! He hadn’t even known he could whistle.
All the reasons why he avoided relationships still lurked at the back of his mind, but it was a simple matter to drown such concerns in showers of happiness. Something that felt so right surely couldn’t be wrong. Surely any new obstacles could be overcome. What a fool he had been to resist for so long.
Elizabeth had returned to her room to preserve the illusion that she had spent the night there. Although he would see her at breakfast, it seemed like an eternity—and they would be surrounded by other people.
Unable to stay away, Darcy dressed quickly and stationed himself in the hallway outside Elizabeth’s door. It wasn’t long before she emerged wearing a slim-fitting purple shirt and shorts that had just the right amount of short.
Grabbing her by the hands, he swung her against the wall, pressed his body against hers, and kissed her. She melted…boneless against his body until it was impossible to know where he ended and she began. Their kisses, their bodies were perfectly in sync, partners in an intricate dance—just like the previous night when she had somehow anticipated his every move and reacted with such ardor. Every cell in his body hummed in satisfaction and clamored for more contact.
After a minute he reluctantly pulled back, peering down at her shining eyes and flushed cheeks. I did that to her. Darcy had won the majority of votes throughout the United States, yet having won the affection of this woman felt like his greatest accomplishment.
He didn’t want to let her go down to breakfast without him, let alone leave Pemberley today, but it would be difficult to justify adding days—and nights—to her visit. If only I needed an emergency briefing on Zavene.
Their relationship was so new that he had an intense desire to keep it private—even from those closest to him. The more openly they shared their affection, the more likely word would leak to the media. The Pemberley staff’s complete discretion could not be guaranteed.
And yet…when they returned to Washington, seeing each other would be even more difficult. To hell with it. Darcy refused to live without her for the rest of his vacation; they would find a way to make it work. “Will you stay tonight?” he whispered in her ear.
Her gaze flickered downward. “I thought you wanted to be discreet.”
Praying that none of the other guests happened by, Darcy pressed her against the wall again. “If discretion means I can’t see you tonight, then it’s overrated.”
Her body relaxed under his. “I want to see you tonight, too,” she murmured. “Is there a way to sneak me in without alerting the press?”
Darcy couldn’t prevent the broad grin from spreading over his face. “I’m sure. I’ll talk to Bing and Kinski about it.”
Her fingers curled around the back of his head, and she drew him down for another kiss. “I can’t wait.”
***
The cook had outdone herself with brunch. It was a feast of omelets, French toast, fruit salad, and mimosas. The water outside the windows reflected sunlight into the room, making it bright and cheery. Acting as if they had simply encountered each other on the stairs, Darcy and Elizabeth were the last to arrive. Darcy officially introduced Elizabeth to Georgiana, who did an admirable job of pretending they hadn’t already met under vastly more embarrassing circumstances.
Darcy cadged a seat next to Elizabeth, where he allowed his thigh to rest against hers. Throughout the meal, they often shared a secret smile but said very little. Conversation revolved around the day’s plans. Bing favored a boating excursion to do some fishing while Georgiana and Caroline expressed more interest in a day at the beach. Thomas Gardiner was talking with great animation to Fitz about John’s microbrewery.
Darcy’s thoughts were preoccupied with figuring out when he and Elizabeth could sneak away without anyone noticing—and how he could slip her into Pemberle
y that evening.
Fitz stared at him with one eyebrow raised, and Caroline glared at Elizabeth. And it was no wonder…Darcy was beaming at Elizabeth like a fool. They couldn’t conceal this relationship from their nearest and dearest for very long. Darcy didn’t mind, as long as they could keep it from the press for now. Media scrutiny at this point might send her running.
When Elizabeth’s hand clasped his knee, Darcy started and then had to stifle a laugh. A corner of her mouth curved upward as well, but she deliberately stared out the window. Slowly he lowered his hand under the table, skimming over the top of her leg and teasing the inside of her thigh with his forefinger. Elizabeth squirmed, murmuring out of the side of her mouth, “You are an evil man.”
Darcy just grinned. There must be some way we can make a relationship work. This is too good to lose without a fight.
Bing cleared his throat, drawing Darcy’s attention. “I’d like to give you the daily briefing after breakfast.” His expression was a bit perplexed as if he noticed Darcy’s distraction.
“Anything urgent?” Darcy asked. Bing shook his head. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “Would you like to take a walk after my briefing?”
“I’d love that. I haven’t seen most of the grounds yet.”
Elizabeth’s aunt regarded them warily. Did she worry he would break Elizabeth’s heart?
All conversation ceased at the sound of faint but rapid knocking on the front door.
“Shit,” Fitz swore.
Bing shrugged. “It’s probably just a messenger with papers for Darce to sign. It happens.”
It could also be bad news about some domestic or foreign emergency. That happens, too.
Everyone was silent as the Secret Service agent in the front hall opened the door. The voices were too low to discern any words. Brisk footfalls echoed in the front hallway as the new visitor approached the kitchen and breakfast room.
Hilliard appeared in the doorway, red in the face and out of breath. Darcy’s chest tightened. Shit. The press secretary wouldn’t have made an unannounced trip to Pemberley unless it was serious. Darcy dropped Elizabeth’s hand and stood.
Hilliard’s eyes swept over the breakfast table, and he frowned slightly when he noticed Elizabeth. Damn it! Was Hilliard going to object to their relationship? To hell with him. The man’s gaze focused on Darcy. “Sir, we have a situation.” His expression was grave but revealed nothing.
Darcy inclined his head toward the hallway. “All right. We can discuss it in my office.” Fitz and Bing had already rushed to their feet.
Hilliard’s eyes found Caroline. “We’ll need you, too.” She nodded and stood immediately.
Darcy surveyed his guests. “Please excuse us.” He met Elizabeth’s eyes, wishing he could give her a goodbye kiss, which was ridiculous; he’d probably return in half an hour.
She gave him a rueful smile. “I’ll see you later.”
Steeling himself against the impulse to kiss her, Darcy turned and led the way to his office. His gut churned, and he made a conscious effort to slow his breathing as he considered the possible problems. It wasn’t a domestic or international crisis because then it would be the National Security Council staff coming to him. This had to be some kind of PR nightmare—the thing he hated most about his job.
The study was usually a refuge for Darcy, but today it felt like a dungeon. The huge stone fireplace yawned empty and cold. Blinds drawn to secure his privacy shut out the sunshine of the beautiful beach day. Darcy settled behind his desk while the others took chairs facing him. “Okay,” he sighed, “what’s the bad news, Bob?”
Hilliard set his laptop up on the desk. “It’s easier if I show you,” he said as everyone crowded around. “This was broadcast early this morning.”
The screen filled with a familiar Grant News frame surrounding the head of one of their anchors. The crawl at the bottom read: “Exclusive Breaking News.” Darcy suppressed a groan.
“We have just learned some disturbing new information about President Darcy and his behavior toward a vulnerable young woman,” the well-coifed blonde said crisply. “I’ll let Grant News reporter Blake Rhodes explain.”
The screen shifted to the fleshy face of Blake Rhodes. “Thank you, Tina. Earlier today I sat down for an interview with Lydia Bennet, the youngest daughter of Thomas Bennet, founder and CEO of On-a-Stick, Inc. Her family has recently been running in elite Democratic circles, and they have met the president numerous times. However, in the interview, she had some rather disturbing things to say.”
Darcy was already grinding his back teeth. He didn’t know what Lydia Bennet could possibly say about him, but Hilliard’s unscheduled trip to Pemberley promised it would be bad. Very bad.
The view on the screen switched to a studio set, with Rhodes and Lydia occupying two of the chairs; the third seated…Wickham. God damn it! The situation had just gone from possibly very bad to possibly catastrophic.
“Also joining us,” Rhodes continued, “is Congressman George Wickham, representing the 12th district of New York. Congressman Wickham first brought Miss Bennet to our attention. Thank you for being here, Congressman.’”
“My pleasure, Blake.” Wickham flashed his cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. If only Darcy could reach into the computer screen and strangle the man.
Rhodes’s eyes focused on Lydia. “You said you were concerned about your sister; can you explain to me why?” He leaned forward, affecting a concerned expression.
The college student’s conservative blouse and skirt lent her an undeserved air of age and maturity. Without a fidget or smirk, her face registered only anxious concern. Idly, Darcy wondered how the producers had managed to wring such solemn behavior from her. “My second oldest sister, Elizabeth, has met the president a number of times…well, we all have.” Lydia giggled, and for a moment, the vain teenager surfaced, but she quickly sobered. “She really doesn’t like him. She said he was”—Lydia used air quotes—“proud, rude, and condescending.’”
Only his awareness of being observed allowed Darcy to control his flinch. Elizabeth might have said such a thing after the Air Force One incident, but he was confident that she had since changed her mind.
Rhodes wasn’t trying very hard to suppress his smile. “I see. Why is this of particular concern now?”
“She hates him, but now all of sudden I find out that she’s staying at his mansion in the Hamptons. It doesn’t make sense.” Lydia bit her lip and knitted her eyebrows together. “Something else is going on. She’d never be happy hanging out with him.”
“You don’t think she simply changed her mind?” Rhodes asked.
Now Lydia’s lower lip was quivering. Damn, she is good at this. “No. Especially not after I saw that picture from yesterday.”
Rhodes turned to the camera. “Here is the image Miss Bennet is referring to.”
The picture on the screen showed Elizabeth about to climb into the presidential limo as Darcy held her hand, drawing her in. The camera captured her expression at a moment when it seemed almost bleak. Her eyes were downcast, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked like she was being drawn into the limo against her will.
Rhodes’s plummy voice described the picture. “This was taken right outside President Darcy’s estate of Pemberley in the Hamptons. Witnesses say the presidential limo was about to enter the Pemberley gates when it backed up. The door opened, and the president beckoned Ms. Bennet inside. Although she seemed hesitant at first, he took her hand and pulled her into the car.”
Darcy’s hands clenched into fists, but he resisted the urge to punch something.
When the Grant News studio returned to the screen, Wickham was shaking his head slowly as if terribly concerned about Elizabeth’s “plight.” “Lydia and I questioned whether Elizabeth Bennet truly wished to get into the presidential limousine of her own free will, or if she felt she had no choice.” The congressman’s oily insinuation left no doubt which option he
believed.
“Elizabeth Bennet has not emerged from Pemberley since,” Rhodes intoned ominously.
“But the thing that got me really worried was the recording,” Lydia said, right on cue.
Nails bit into Darcy’s palms. He knew Lydia was a dupe here, but he still felt betrayed by how readily she had taken to the role of his accuser.
Rhodes nodded sympathetically. “I can understand why.” He turned to the camera. “We have an audio recording that was captured by witnesses a few minutes after Elizabeth Bennet entered the limo. It records a conversation between an older woman and the Secret Service agent at the gate.”
Darcy winced, knowing what they would hear.
A scratchy audio recording played while the transcribed words appeared on the screen. “You need to help me! My niece went into Pemberley with the president and hasn’t come out. We haven’t been able to get in touch with her. Her name is Elizabeth Bennet…”
The muscles in Darcy’s jaw hurt, and he wanted very badly to throw something. They were taking the most wonderful night of his life and portraying it as something tawdry and sinister.
Rhodes appeared onscreen again. “Lydia Bennet has identified the woman on the recording as her aunt, sixty-two-year-old Madeline Gardiner. She and her husband, Thomas Gardiner, had accompanied Ms. Bennet to greet the presidential limo as it arrived at Pemberley. Shortly after that recording was made, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner entered Pemberley and—like their niece—haven’t been seen since.”
Only Rhodes could make a day at the beach sound ominous. Darcy gripped the arms of his chair, fighting the impulse to pound his fists on the desk. They were implying that he was some sort of serial kidnapper. It was a ridiculous suggestion. However, experience had taught Darcy that many people would swallow the insinuations whole.
“You can’t possibly be suggesting that the president kidnapped your sister,” Rhodes said to Lydia.
Lydia shrugged expressively. “I don’t know what’s going on. But I do know that Lizzy doesn’t like the guy. He insulted her at a state dinner a few months ago. It was all over Twitter. And now suddenly, she’s spending the night with him? That doesn’t make sense to me.”
President Darcy Page 24