by Teri Wilson
Elizabeth stared at it, paralyzed.
The investigation couldn’t possibly be concluded already, could it?
She dropped it as if the heavy card stock had burned her fingers. England had become a healthy distraction from the mess at work. Now, faced with a concrete reminder of all that had transpired, she felt sick. The ache that had settled in her chest that fateful afternoon of her meeting with Dr. Thurston—and had all but vanished when she’d crossed the Atlantic—returned with a pang.
“Is something wrong, sis?” Jenna asked, her voice laced with worry.
Elizabeth massaged her breastbone and tried not to feel faint as she stared at the envelope.
“Elizabeth?” Sue eyed her with concern over the top of her paper. “Everything all right, dear? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Grant Markham’s image invaded her memory, his lips curled into a haughty sneer.
Not a ghost. More like evil incarnate.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Heart pounding, Elizabeth picked up the envelope again. “I got a letter from work.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t see that. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you.” Jenna’s face grew pale.
“Work?” Sue frowned. “You mean the school where you’ve been teaching? Didn’t they lay you off? Don’t tell me they’re trying to snatch you away from me already. You’ve barely just gotten here.”
Sue’s words gave Elizabeth the courage to break the envelope’s seal. At least she had a job. And a place to live, far nicer than any apartment she could afford in New York. Of course, she couldn’t stay in London forever. She wasn’t even a British citizen. Wouldn’t someone kick her out eventually? If not Sue or Alan, some immigration official?
“I’m sure it’s nothing like that,” Elizabeth said as she unfolded the contents of the envelope—a single sheet of paper, with the school crest emblazoned at the uppermost edge.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to start at the beginning and read the words one at a time.
Dear Miss Scott,
The board of directors has concluded its investigation into the matter of the allegations concerning your employment as a teacher at the Barclay School.
We feel that it is in the best interest of all parties involved that your temporary suspension be made permanent, effective immediately. As you may recall, since the Barclay School is a private institution of learning, your employment is subject to termination at any time, with or without cause.
As a gesture of our goodwill, a severance check equal to four weeks’ pay will be sent to you under separate cover.
Sincerely,
The Board of Directors
The Barclay School
All ten members of the board had signed the bottom of the letter, with Mrs. Grant Markham’s swirling signature given top billing. A coincidence? Elizabeth doubted it.
“Lizzy, what is it?” Jenna reached for her free hand and gave it a squeeze.
The gesture barely registered in Elizabeth’s consciousness.
She reread the letter. Once, twice, a third time, telling herself it wasn’t the end of the world. At least they hadn’t actually accused her of extortion.
It was a small consolation.
After all those years of working at Scott Bridal, catering to the upper echelons of society, she thought she’d finally been accepted. She’d felt as though she’d found her place. Sure, she was still in a different league from the families who sent their children to the Barclay School. But she loved those kids. And she thought everyone knew that about her and respected her devotion to the school.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
She wadded the letter into a ball, her hands trembling with fury. Grant Markham had won, just as she’d feared he would. And now, through no fault of her own, she was no longer a teacher.
“I take it that was not good news?” Sue’s gaze flitted between Elizabeth and Jenna as she peered over the top of her glasses.
Elizabeth shook her head, her vision growing cloudy with tears. She cleared her throat. The last thing she wanted to do was spill her guts to Sue, no matter how tempting that might be. They’d grown close in the past week and a half, but she was still Elizabeth’s boss. “My, um, layoff has become permanent.”
Sue folded her newspaper and laid it on the table. “Don’t worry about it, dear. You’re in Britain now. You have a job and a place to stay right here. We have loads of shows to attend. Rose isn’t a Champion yet. And Bliss hasn’t won Best in Show.” Sue winked.
Of course Bliss hadn’t won Best in Show. She hadn’t even cracked into the top four of her breed under the half-blind judge at the show in Mayfair.
Sue’s kindness only made Elizabeth feel worse for not being 100 percent truthful. She blinked back a fresh wave of tears and pushed away from the table. “I think I need to let this sink in. Do you mind if I go upstairs for a little bit?”
“Lizzy, let me go up with you. I don’t need to get to the Bridal Market right away....” Jenna stood to follow, but Elizabeth shook her head.
“No, please. You go on ahead. I’ll be fine.”
But as she climbed the stairs to her room, the truth began to sink into her bones.
Things were not fine. She didn’t see how they ever would be fine again.
England was going to her head. She would be better off once she realized none of this was real. The letter from the Barclay School had given her a heaping dose of reality. She was a disgraced teacher from America. She was no more respected by the wealthy than she’d been when she’d knelt at their feet to pin up the hems of their wedding gowns.
This land of palaces and charming aristocrats was nothing more than a fairy tale. And once the fairy tale was over, Elizabeth would have nowhere to go.
* * *
Donovan took an exploratory look up and down Sumner Place, with a sense of worry gnawing at his gut and a bored Finneus winding his leash around his legs.
Elizabeth was late.
He’d been at their meeting place beneath the awning of the cupcake bakery for nearly half an hour. After twenty minutes had passed, he’d even tucked Finneus under his arm and ventured inside, searching for her among the mob of customers seeking to satisfy their midafternoon sugar cravings. She wasn’t there, not that he really expected to find her inside with all her canine charges. Donovan doubted sneaking the Border terriers into a bakery would be an easy task, regardless of their impeccable manners. Even the air smelled of butter and cream. Finneus’s nose twitched, and he trained his eyes on a crystal platter of black-currant-and-licorice cakes. Donovan whisked him outside before one went missing.
One of two things was transpiring, he realized. Either something had happened to Elizabeth, or he’d been stood up.
At first, Donovan wasn’t sure which prospect he found more alarming. He’d never been stood up before. Not once in his entire life. The very idea was preposterous. What woman in her right mind would stand up Donovan Darcy? He frowned and wondered if this was the sort of thing regular blokes worried about.
But the idea of some sort of harm coming to Elizabeth was worse. Obviously. He’d have to be a complete monster to prefer her to be harmed in some way to her simply choosing not to spend time with him. And he wasn’t a monster.
Of course, if anyone was prone to think him monstrous in any way, it was Elizabeth. Fiery Elizabeth, with her propensity to put him in his place with the least bit of provocation.
Fiery Elizabeth, with those ripe, kissable lips and dangerously seductive eyes.
Donovan frowned and glanced left and right, as though passersby were privy to his thoughts. The apparent nonchalance of the people who strode past him, eyes downcast and headed toward the South Kensington tube station, only spiked his frustration.
“This simply will not do,” he annou
nced to no one.
He plucked Finneus off the pavement again, tucked the dog under his arm and marched off in the direction of the Barrows’ townhome.
Something was wrong. He could sense it. And if it wasn’t...well, this would be the first time he’d been left hanging. There was a first time for everything, he supposed, although the idea of it left him with a dull pain in his temples.
He knocked on the door. It swung open, revealing a surprised-looking Sue Barrow. She blinked at him for a few seconds as her eyebrows crept up her forehead. “Mr. Darcy. What a delight. Would you care to come in?”
The dogs—all four Borders plus Bliss—milled about at Sue’s feet, but his Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen.
His Elizabeth?
He knew he had no real right to make such a claim, and frankly, he wasn’t even sure he wanted the privilege. The woman could be maddening, as present circumstances indicated.
But still, there it was. Right on the very edges of his consciousness—his Elizabeth. “I’m actually looking for Elizabeth. Is she home?”
“Come in, come in.” Sue Barrow ushered him inside a foyer identical to his own, but Donovan noticed her smile dim somewhat. “Elizabeth is upstairs. She received some news today that upset her. Perhaps you can cheer her up.”
Donovan hesitated, torn between bounding up the stairs two at a time and forgetting the whole ordeal and marching back across the street to the safe confines of his office. “I hate to intrude.”
“It’s no intrusion, I’m sure.” Sue leaned toward him and pretended to whisper, although her voice could still be heard as clear as a bell. “Perhaps you can give Elizabeth a little cheer.”
Could he? Could he, really? Or would his presence simply make things worse? It could go either way, he supposed. “I’ll certainly give it a go.”
Sue lit up as though one of her Border terriers had just been named Best in Show at Crufts.
Finneus squirmed in his arms. He’d spotted the other dogs and made no secret of wanting to be let loose with his walking companions.
“Let that naughty fellow down.” Sue waved a hand toward Finneus. “Leave him here with us. The rain has stopped, so we’ve decided to spend the day in the garden.”
As soon as the words left Sue’s mouth, the Border terriers all turned toward the back of the house. They looked like a retreating regiment as they headed toward what Donovan assumed was the garden. He lowered Finneus to the ground, and after his dog gave Bliss’s nose a lick, the two Cavaliers followed after the Borders.
“Off we go.” Sue turned to follow the six wagging tails. She shot a parting glance over her shoulder and pointed toward the staircase. “Elizabeth’s right up there. All the way to the top.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Donovan smiled. “And thank you.”
She gave him a final wave over her shoulder. “My pleasure, Mr. Darcy.”
If Sue Barrow had drawn Donovan a map, he still wouldn’t have reached Elizabeth’s room any faster. He was embarrassed to admit, even to himself, he’d watched her looking out of that window enough times to have a fairly accurate picture of the whereabouts of her room. It wasn’t until he’d reached the top of the stairs and knocked on her closed door that he realized he hadn’t even taken the time to unbutton his coat.
He heard a shuffling noise coming from her room and then there she was...in those ripped jeans that made his pulse quicken.
“Donovan?” She appeared disoriented to find him at her door. Then she gasped, and her head whipped around to look at the clock on her nightstand. “Our walk. Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry. I totally forgot.”
Her eyes were shiny with fresh tears, and the tip of her nose was as pink as a rosebud, but she was still as lovely as ever. Her toenails, equally pink, peeked out from the ragged hem of her jeans. Something about those bare feet and her sad smile gave Donovan the sudden urge to scoop her up and pull her into his lap on the edge of the bed.
He busied himself with unbuttoning his overcoat so he wouldn’t act on the impulse. “It’s okay. I was worried about you, that’s all. I hope you don’t mind my coming by to check on you.”
“Of course not.” She sniffed and dabbed at her nose with a wadded-up tissue.
Donovan pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and offered it to her. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” She reached for it with a tentative hand.
Her hesitation gave birth to a fear that he was soon to be dismissed. Donovan wasn’t about to go. “May I come in?”
“Oh.” She glanced at the room behind her, her gaze lingering on the bed for a split second. Just long enough for Donovan to notice. “Um, sure.”
She fumbled with his handkerchief as he entered her room. He liked the idea of her keeping it. The thought of her having something of his—even something as simple as a monogrammed handkerchief—appealed to him. He smiled at her.
She smiled back, but the gesture was accompanied by a slight wobble of her chin. “I’m sorry about this afternoon, Donovan. Did you wait long?”
The bed, a grand affair with tall, slender posts and piled with luxurious bedding, loomed behind her. It pained him not to look at it, to imagine Elizabeth wearing nothing but those soft blue bed linens.
He cleared his throat. “Not long. A half hour or so.”
“A half hour is a long time.” Her eyes grew shiny again. “I’m sorry. I got a letter earlier today....”
Her voice trailed off, and she gestured to the dustbin beside her nightstand, where, apparently, the offensive letter had taken up residence. Its contents may have been relegated to the rubbish, but they obviously still had the power to cause pain.
“A letter?” he asked, deliberately keeping his concern to himself that the letter might be from a boyfriend. He’d never before considered the prospect she was seeing someone.
A collection of bachelors flashed in his mind—bohemian intellectuals who walked around unshaven, with piles of books under their arms; do-gooder sorts with earnest expressions and worn, leather messenger bags slung over their shoulders; lean, muscled athletes who preferred bicycles to the underground.
His fists clenched of their own volition.
“It’s from my employer back in the States.” She dropped her gaze to the floor. Donovan followed it, but got momentarily distracted by the pink of her toenails. “I’ve been fired.”
“Sacked?” Donovan did his best to hide his inexplicable relief at the fact that there was no boyfriend and no job beckoning her back home. He told himself it didn’t really mean anything. He’d simply grown accustomed to having her around. “That’s terrible.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “Why are you smiling?”
“I’m not smiling,” he said as he tried to stop the grin that sprung to his lips.
“Yes, you are.”
“No.” He struggled, in vain, to frown. “No, I’m not.”
“Not everyone is born rich, you know.” Elizabeth lifted an angry eyebrow.
He’d offended her. Naturally.
Still, indignation was far better than tears. His smile grew a fraction wider. “Of course not.”
“Some of us have to work for a living. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” She hurled his handkerchief at his chest.
So much for her keeping it.
Donovan caught it before it made contact with his face. “You think I don’t work?”
She smirked at him. A full-on smirk he should have found infuriating, but for some reason it bordered on adorable. “When was the last time you had a real job?”
“I have a job. And it’s most assuredly real.” He went to work neatly folding the now-damp handkerchief.
“Truly? And what is it you do, exactly?”
“I manage the Darcy Family Trust,” he answered and slipped the h
andkerchief back into his pocket, safely out of throwing range.
“And what exactly does that entail? Because to me, it sounds like an excuse to sit around and count your money all day.” She sniffled.
It was that single, vulnerable sniffle that stopped Donovan from turning her over his knee and spanking her as though she were a petulant child.
“It’s not as easy as it sounds. I seem to have lost count somewhere around two or three million. When I get home, I’ll have to start all over again,” he answered drily.
She gaped at him. For once, she appeared at a loss for words.
It was an opening. An opening Donovan wasn’t about to miss.
“I think it’s time,” he said.
“Time for what?” She glanced at the clock on the night table again. “Call me crazy, but I’m not sure I feel like taking a walk with you at the moment. Besides, I should probably rescue Sue. She’s been looking after the dogs for a while now.”
“Sue’s fine. She just kidnapped Finneus and absconded with him, too.” He crossed his arms and did his best to look serious. “I think it’s time I show you.”
“Show me what, exactly?” She gave him a wary once-over.
“One of my favorite places in London.”
She glanced down at her T-shirt, jeans and bare feet. Her toes wiggled on the blue area rug. “Now? Look at me. I’m a mess. I spent my morning grooming dogs.”
“You’re perfect.” Donovan closed the short distance between them, ignoring the look of alarm that crossed Elizabeth’s face.
She watched with obvious wariness as he unwound the cashmere Burberry scarf from the collar of his overcoat. With a gentle hand, he reached for her hair. Her eyes grew wide, and Donovan heard her sharp inhale of breath as he gathered her chestnut waves in one hand and looped the scarf around her neck with the other.
“Now you just need a coat and you’re good to go,” he said, noting the husky quality of his own voice.
She brushed her cheek against the scarf. “Mmm, soft. Nice.”