He beams at me. “She liked you.”
“She did?” Of course I could tell she did, but I adore hearing it from him.
“Definitely.”
I can’t help but feel like Lizzie Bennet when she met Georgiana Darcy in Pride and Prejudice. Lizzie knew that by introducing them, Darcy was showing he was totally into her. If Darcy wanted Lizzie to meet his sister because he had fallen for her, did that mean Sebastian has fallen for me? Of course, things took a turn for the worse after the meeting, but I know they won’t for Sebastian and me.
And yes, I know I’m taking this whole Pride and Prejudice thing a little far. I blame Kennedy for putting the idea in my head.
But as Sebastian cups my face in his hands and plants a tantalizing kiss on my lips once more, I know nothing can stand in our way. Any doubts I may have had have well and truly disappeared.
Chapter 26
It’s the evening of the dance and the contestants are buzzing, and not just because we’ve all been given new clothes to wear. Of course they are still Regency, but they’re a step up from the ones we’ve been wearing since the whole “dress like it’s 1813” thing was sprung on us. The new clothes are only half the excitement. We’ve been told that Sebastian is sending someone home tonight, and Reggie has been taking bets ever since. Apparently, Shelby and Camille are the horses to back, although I know who I would prefer to see go home. No prizes for guessing it’s not Shelby.
I stand in front of the mirror in Kennedy’s and my room. My top is low-cut to show off what cleavage I actually have, with short, girly puff sleeves finished with pale green ribbons. I’m wearing what Mrs. Watson told us is a redingote, which is a long, pale green dress that splays open mid-thigh to reveal—no, not an Angelia Jolie-inspired leg, more's the pity—my ivory petticoats beneath. The mandatory slippers on my feet and long, white gloves above my elbows complete the look.
I feel pretty and weirdly sexy, even if my petticoats do reach the floor. Despite the fact the design means I’ve still got to wear the world’s most uncomfortable bra, I’ve ditched the baggy bloomers in favor of my regular underwear.
“Breaking the rules feels so naughty, doesn’t it?” Kennedy says as she pulls our door open to head downstairs.
“Who knew plain white cotton underpants could be quite so risqué?” I reply with a laugh. “If only Marni were here to enjoy the revolution. She missed her Spanx.”
“How can anyone miss Spanx?”
“Bloomers versus Spanx? It’s all relative, babe.”
She laughs as we make our way down the stairs. We reach the ballroom—yup, Sebastian’s house has a ballroom, naturally—as Phoebe and Camille also arrive. I greet Phoebe with warmth, and nod a cool hello at Camille.
Together, we walk inside. They’ve lit it so it feels like candlelight, because of course it would be too much of a fire risk to have real candles. You can’t trust a bunch of contestants on a reality show not to start a fire, apparently. Thanks to Penny and her obsession with all things reality, I’ve watched a bunch of episodes of The Real Housewives, so I’ve got to agree.
I look up to see the most stunning row of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, glinting in the soft light. The walls are lined with old oil paintings of people and landscapes in between Roman-looking columns. There’s a group of musicians in the corner, dressed up in their Regency clothes, looking just the part.
The overall effect is breathtaking, and I can’t help but feel swept up in the occasion, like Lizzie Bennet herself at the ball at Netherfield.
Camille walks one way as we enter so Kennedy and I walk the other.
Reggie sails over to us. She takes a hold of Kennedy’s and my hands and tells us we look like princesses, ready for the ball.
“You look beautiful yourself,” I gush as I take in her red redingote and turban. Yup, you heard it right: Reggie is wearing a turban. And what’s more, it’s got a big brooch on it and pink feathers sticking out the top. It’s really quite something.
The weird thing is, she looks amazing in it.
“Nice hat, Regg,” I say as I reach out to stroke one of the feathers. “Ooh, soft and silky.”
She does a little shimmy for us. “I figured if I’m leavin’ tonight, I’d may as well go out with a bang, darlin’. Where else could I wear one of these in my regular life?”
“The laundromat?” I offer. “Or maybe Costco?”
“Oh, definitely Costco,” she coos.
“Who said you’re going home?” Kennedy says. “It could be me. I’ve had a grand total of one date with him, and I tell you, it was nothing to get excited about.”
“That’s one more than me, darlin’. I’m here as the eye candy, don’t you know?”
“Well, you’re doing that just fine,” I reply with a grin.
She winks at us. “And getting my Insta followin’ up too, with any luck.”
I hook my arms around both of their waists. “I don’t want either of you to go home. You’re the only thing keeping me sane on this show.”
“The only thing?” Kennedy asks, and heat burns through me at the thought of Sebastian.
“Well, I know one thing for sure, Emma, darlin’. You’ve got nothing to be nervous about tonight,” Reggie says. “Mr. Darcy wants to keep you.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I reply. It’s weak and completely unconvincing. I know it just as much as they do.
Sebastian isn’t sending me home tonight.
“Yeah, you do,” Reggie replies with a wink. “But whatever happens, we need to have a good time tonight.”
Kennedy grins. “Amen to that.”
“Come on girls. Let’s get a drink,” I say. “No one should have to do those dances we had to learn today without alcohol in their bloodstream. It would be criminal!”
We amble across the ballroom and collect some drinks from the bartender. As usual, there’s no beer, only wine. Mine’s a glass of white, and Reggie and Kennedy both get glasses of red.
“To the dance,” Kennedy says as she raises her glass, and we all clink.
“Who do you think Sebastian will dance with first?” Reggie asks, and I feel quite silly at how much the mere mention of his name makes my heart rate rise.
Seeing him this afternoon in the woods was so unexpected, and meeting Zara was wonderful. Well, to be perfectly clear, Zara mentioning that Sebastian had talked to her about me was the wonderful part, although she did seem pretty great, too. Like someone I could be friends with. Not that Sebastian would approve of that, by the sounds of things. I smile to myself at the thought. Protective older brother Seb. I kind of like that.
“Oh, I think I know who he’ll choose first,” Kennedy says as she smiles at me.
Phoebe smiles as she arrives at our group, accompanied by Camille. “Hi, girls,” Phoebe says. “Isn’t this exciting?”
“It’ll be much more exciting when Sebastian gets here,” Camille says gruffly. “Where is he, anyway?”
“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Phoebe replies. “Do you think they’ll provide other men for us to dance with?”
“No!” I reply as Kennedy says, “Are you kidding right now?” and Reggie says, “That would be so nice.”
“Maybe Johnathan will come with him?” Phoebe offers.
“I don’t care if Prince William himself turns up, as long as Sebastian gets here soon. And I’ve got the first dance. Got it?” Camille takes a sip of her drink and scowls at us.
“I see Camille’s being her usual friendly self,” Kennedy says to me out of the corner of her mouth and I stifle a giggle.
“Can you imagine if Prince William actually did turn up?” Phoebe says wistfully, like she always does. I tell you, I have never met anyone so sweet and nice as her.
“I think if Prince William turned up here, Mrs. Watson would have a heart attack,” I say.
“Or faint in his arms, like Shelby did with Sebastian.” This from Phoebe.
“Oh, that was entirely staged. I lost all respect for her when sh
e did that. Imagine, throwing yourself at a man like that. Literally,” Camille sniffs. “Sebastian deserves so much more.”
Finally something we can agree on.
“You mean he deserves you, Camille?” Kennedy asks.
She moves her drink from one hand to the other and toys with the string of pearls around her neck. “All I’m saying is that he deserves more than people playing games.” She shoots me a pointed look.
What games does she think I’m playing?
“Good evening, ladies,” a low voice says behind us and we all turn to see both Sebastian and Johnathan standing in the ballroom. They’re dressed the same as each other in what must be Regency evening wear for men: long black pants, cream waistcoats with white shirts, and those black jackets with the tails.
Although both of them look like total swoon-worthy romantic heroes, Sebastian is the one who has captured my heart.
“At least we’ve got two male dance partners,” Reggie says to me as the other contestants greet the men. “Although I bet one of them only has eyes for you.”
I look through my lashes at Sebastian. He’s standing stiffly as Camille flirts her Regency bloomers off, twirling her ringlets, batting her eyelids, and pawing his chest. He’s clearly not enjoying it, and I cannot say that makes me feel bad.
You pull out all the tricks you can, Camille. I know something you don’t, and when you find out, you’re not going to like it one little bit.
I wander over to the bar and ask for a glass of Sebastian’s favorite wine, Châteauneuf-du-Pape. The bartender looks at me as though I’ve asked for a ticket to the moon.
He picks the bottle up and reads the label. “The red is a Californian merlot. It’s this or the white.”
“Right.” Of course. I forgot: minimum-cost alcohol for maximum effect, even for Mr. Darcy. “I’ll have a glass of that, thanks.”
With my offering in hand, I join Sebastian’s group of Camille, Kennedy, and Reggie. Reggie is telling them about something to do with crocodiles, and all I catch are the words “ate the poor creature,” and I’m glad I missed the rest.
“Why do you choose to live in such a God-awful place?” Camille asks in that special, nonjudgmental way of hers.
Reggie shrugs, looking totally unaffected by her. “It’s home, darlin’. Just like New York is for you. Staten Island, right?”
Kennedy and I share a look of amusement at Reggie’s deliberate mistake. My eyes lift to Sebastian’s, but he’s looking at Reggie.
“I live in Manhattan,” Camille corrects tersely. “Upper East Side, to be precise.”
“Oh, silly me. It’s all tall buildings, traffic, and pollution, as far as I’m concerned.” Reggie waves her hand in the air and smiles the smile of the seasoned tormentor.
“Maybe if you made it out of Hicksville, Tennessee every once and a while you’d know more about the world?” Camille offers.
Reggie’s hand flies to her chest. “Are you inviting me to stay? Oh, Camille, you are so sweet. Can I bring Puddin’?” Her accent has become thick and strong now as she lays it on.
Camille blinks at her. “Pudding?”
“My pet possum. He’s house trained. Mostly. Oh, and Gigi. She’s the baby alligator I keep in the tub sometimes. You’d love her. I think I’ll leave the coyotes at home, though. They can get awful rambunctious.”
Unable to hold it in any longer, I snort with laughter. I look at Sebastian once more. His eyes are still trained on Reggie, and he doesn’t seem to get the joke. Maybe he thinks Reggie is serious about all her pet creatures?
I place my hand lightly on his arm. “Sebastian, I got this for you. It’s a crappy cheap wine by the sounds of it, but it is a red.”
He seems to study the glass in my outstretched hand before he lifts his eyes to mine. He looks rigid and uncomfortable, like he’s Mr. Darcy at the Meryton assembly where he thought everyone was beneath him.
He pauses for a moment before he takes the wine from me and says, “Thank you for thinking of me, Emma.”
I smile back at him. “You’re welcome.”
He immediately averts his eyes from mine, and says, “I believe the musicians are about to begin. Camille? You mentioned you would like the first dance. Shall we?”
I feel a sting of rejection. Which is crazy, I know. This is the guy who I spent a considerable amount of time kissing in the woods only a few short hours ago, the guy who had told his sister about me. I know it’s for the cameras, nothing more, so I try not to let it bother me.
“Of course, Sebastian. I would love to have the first dance with you,” Camille replies, beaming at him as she takes his outstretched arm.
As the musicians begin to play, Kennedy puts her hand on my elbow and says, “Poor guy having to dance with that.”
I roll my eyes at her, feeling instantly better. “I know, right? Would you like to try out your dance moves with me?”
“Can I twerk?”
I laugh. “I’m absolutely positive twerking was a big part of the Regency dance scene.”
“Along with pole dancing, right?”
We line up and face one another to begin the dance we learned this afternoon. I’ve got Phoebe on my right, facing Johnathan, and Sebastian on my left, facing Camille. As the music begins, we start out like professionals, moving in sequence, no one stepping on anyone’s toes, no one bumping into anyone. It lasts for all of thirty seconds before I take a wrong step and slap against Phoebe.
“Sorry!” I call out.
“Totally fine,” she replies.
I concentrate hard. Two steps forward, slap hands in a ladylike fashion with Kennedy, then three steps to the right, walk elegantly around Johnathan like I’ve got a carrot up my butt. Now, step backwards on my toes into formation, and there, I’ve got it. Sort of. I look to my left where Sebastian is meant to be, only to see he’s at the other end of the line, his hands held against Camille’s. Oops! I totally messed up.
Man, this is hard.
“Emma. Over here,” Kennedy calls and I dash past Phoebe to her, where we twirl around each other. “Oh, we are so messing this up, babe.”
I glance at one of the cameras nearby. We’ve already made a total hash of the dance steps, so the way I see it, we’d may as well enjoy ourselves. “Just go with it.” I hook my arm through hers and we do a silly jig.
The steps are entirely forgotten now, and even Sebastian has lost some of his formality and smiles as Camille and everyone else fudge their moves.
When we get to the part where we switch partners for a few steps, I find myself facing him. I waggle my brows at him and say flirtatiously, “We really must stop meeting like this, Mr. Darcy.”
Instead of replying with an equally flirty quip as I’ve come to expect, he merely nods at me, his jaw locked, his eyes flicking away from mine.
“Is everything okay?” I ask him as we move around the other couples.
“Yes, fine,” he replies brusquely.
I knit my brows together in concern as we return to our original partners, and I can’t help but notice Sebastian’s smile returns as he takes Camille’s hand.
What is with him tonight?
When the musicians thankfully come to the end of their tune, we pretend like we’ve danced like a group of accomplished Regency dancers, and bow and curtsey the way Mrs. Watson showed us.
“We could make a career out of that,” Kennedy says as we collect our drinks.
I eye Sebastian across the room. He’s now talking with Phoebe and Johnathan, as Camille hangs off his arm. The cameras are trained on him, as usual, but this time they’re also on Kennedy and me. I paste on a smile. “I think I’ll stick with my day job,” I reply absently.
“Well, I need more wine. Waiting around to be asked to dance by one of two guys isn’t exactly rock ‘n roll. Want another?”
I hold up my almost full drink. “I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.”
As Kennedy makes her way to the bar, I watch Sebastian. Something has chan
ged, and I don’t know what it is. But there’s one thing I do know for sure, I need to find out.
Chapter 27
I don’t have to wait long.
During the next dance, when I find myself facing him once again, he says to me under his breath, “Meet me in our place in ten minutes.”
I nod my eager assent and instantly feel the weight of worry lift from my shoulders.
As he moves away to his partner, Reggie, I chew on my lip. This weirdness has all got to be for the cameras, nothing more. He’s playing the game, making sure it looks like an even playfield, as though he hasn’t already given me his heart.
A few minutes later and I’ve told anyone who will listen that I need to visit the little Lizzies’ room (read: bathroom), I’ve switched off my mic, and am now staring out at the evening sky from one of the long library windows.
Sebastian quietly enters the room.
I turn and smile at him, relieved to see him away from the glare of the cameras, the contestants, and Camille.
Especially Camille.
I move across the floor and wrap my arms around his waist. I close my eyes and tilt my head up to kiss him, but when I don’t feel his lips on mine, I ping them open. “There are no cameras here, Seb.”
His body rigid, he says, “Emma,” in a way that immediately makes my tummy twist with apprehension.
This hasn’t got anything to do with cameras. This is something else instead.
I drop my arms to my side and gaze up at him, fear rising inside. “What’s going on?”
He pinches the skin between his eyes and steps away from me. He reaches the fireplace, where he places his hand on the mantle and looks back at me. “It’s not going to work.”
“What’s not going to work?” I ask in a measured tone as I take a couple of tentative steps toward him. “The show? Saving Martinston? What?”
His eyes bore into me. “I’m going to cut to the chase, Emma. You deserve that in the very least.”
“Cut to the chase about what?”
He clenches his jaw. “I-I need to send you home.”
I let out a surprised laugh, certain this has got to be a joke. “Sure you do.”
Dating Mr. Darcy: A romantic comedy (Love Manor Romantic Comedy Book 1) Page 21