Bespelling Jane Austen
Page 35
“Huh? You want some coffee?”
“Tell him I haven’t told you,” Isabella said.
I wrapped my head around that. “I’m to tell you that she hasn’t told me whatever it is that’s dragging me out of bed at…” I looked at the clock. “Oh. One-thirty in the afternoon. Here, talk to Isabella.” I handed him the phone. “I have to grind beans.”
The shriek of the coffee grinder filled the kitchen. I dumped the old grounds from the coffee press into the sink and rinsed it out. Knightley looked appalled at my unfastidious habits.
“Will you tell me what’s up?”
“Isabella said I should be here when we told you,” he said.
“Okay.” I sat at the kitchen table, suddenly afraid. “Tell me what?”
The buzzer that indicated someone was calling me from the front door of the building went off, sounding horribly loud. It was a courier, demanding my signature on something. “I’ll go,” said Knightley, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere but in my kitchen, seeing my slatternly housekeeping and horrible blue robe.
“Okay,” I said, in possession of the phone once more. “Will you stop messing around and just tell me, Iz?”
She made a strange bleating sound that included Knightley’s name.
“Tell me, please.”
“It’s Frank,” she said in a sudden burst.
“Look, I know he—” He nearly ruined your business. So did I.
“You don’t understand.”
“No, I won’t until you tell me.” I gazed at the kettle, willing it to boil.
“Frank and Jane Fairfax are engaged.”
“What?”
“I’m so sorry.” She was babbling now. “We had no idea—well, actually Knightley did and I think Missy might have had a suspicion. Missy called me about an hour ago and she was so very concerned about you because, well, I encouraged you to—”
“You didn’t encourage me to do anything,” I said. “You told me Jim’s squash partner might call and it might be nice if he and I went out for a drink. Don’t be dumb, Iz.”
There was a strange gulping sound on the other end of the phone. For a moment I wondered if it was morning sickness before I remembered it was early evening in Brussels, and then, with a sudden, excited rush realized I had just accused my sister, the perfect, beautiful, clever Isabella, of being dumb (something I hadn’t done since I was eleven).
“Okay,” she said. “You mean—you mean it’s okay with you?”
“I think he’s a charming creep but okay as vampires go, and she’s someone who can’t ask for help.” Just like me. “I think she could probably do better.”
“Oh, thank God,” she said tearfully. “I was afraid you’d be hurt. I mean, Frank is really cute, and…”
“I wouldn’t throw him out of bed for eating crackers,” I said with impeccable timing just as Knightley came back into the apartment.
She giggled. “I’m so relieved. We were all afraid you were involved with him.”
“It explains why Jane was so cool toward me. Hey, Iz, will you send me your brownie recipe?”
“It’s stapled inside my James Beard cookbook. I’m so glad you’re okay. Give Knightley a hug from me. Jim and I have to go out and I’d better find something that fits. I’m eating like a pig and everything’s too tight. I can’t drink the beer here anymore but I’m still eating frites at every opportunity.”
“She told you about Churchill?” Knightley asked when I got off the phone.
I poured boiling water into the coffee press. “Yeah. You are such a pair of drama queens.”
“You mean—you mean you’re okay about it?”
“Of course I’m okay about it. I wasn’t in love with him or anything.” I let him do unspeakable things to me up against my refrigerator and in my bed and enjoyed every moment, but I didn’t think it tactful to say aloud to Knightley who was doing the possessive male glower, much to my delight.
“Ah.” He nodded and looked considerably happier. “Good.”
“So what was the courier delivery?” I hesitated, torn between grabbing the envelope from his hands and pushing down the handle of the coffee press.
“You’re supposed to stir it after it’s sat for three minutes,” Knightley said, handing me an envelope.
“Too bad. Do you want a cup?”
He poured while I opened the envelope. Inside was a truly miraculous and groveling letter from the manager of the bank that held the agency’s account, deeply regretting the unfortunate mistake that had been made, attributed vaguely to a computer error during a system update. The interest I had forfeited would be restored and our savings account given a higher interest rate backdated to the beginning of the year, and if there was anything else they could do, etc., etc.
“Good news?” Knightley asked.
“Oh, yes. Read this.” I handed the letter to him.
He frowned as he read. “They’re probably afraid you’ll sue. Maybe you should.”
“No way. I’d rather have an embarrassed bank that’s desperate to keep on my good side. Besides, if I sued I’d have to hire a vamp.”
“True.” He became intensely interested in his coffee. “Emma, I have something to say.”
“If it’s about taking my clothes off last night, it’s okay. Would you like an English muffin?”
“No, thanks. What I have to say, Emma, is…” he lowered his eyes and muttered, rather like Missy Bates in full spate, “I’m really sorry I underestimated you and I’ve been overbearing and you saved me last night and I wanted to thank you and—”
“Cool it, Knightley. Aren’t you forgetting something?”
He looked panicked. “Uh. I… You’re an amazing witch. You have extraordinary powers. Missy told me what you did last night. Even she’s never dared try that. If you hadn’t done it, I think I’d have…disappeared, or something.”
“I had to do it, Knightley.”
“Of course. To lift the curse.” He nodded.
God, he was dense today. “There’s another reason, too.”
My English muffin popped out of the toaster.
“Oh, shit,” he said. “I love you, Emma.”
“I was wondering when you’d get around to saying it.”
“Shut up. I love you. I’ve always loved you, even if you still have that ratty blue bathrobe—”
“I love this robe.” I dropped a large dollop of jam onto my English muffin. “I’ve never worn it for anyone else.”
“Anyone else would go screaming into the night. I’m man enough to take the fluffy blue robe, Emma. We’ve ten years of wasted time to make up for.”
“I love you, too.” I wished I hadn’t chosen that moment to take a big bite of my English muffin. I swallowed, and said it again. “I love you, Knightley. I think you’re right about my magic skills—I’ve never accepted that I do have talent in that area, so I’m going to ask Missy for some advice. And I really want to see Hartfield grow, and—”
“And?”
“I want you, too, if you’ve time for a very busy woman. And I’d appreciate it if you quit telling me what to do all the time.”
“I’ll try,” he said. “I know I’m sometimes an arrogant, overbearing jerk. I want to look after you, Emma, but last night you looked after me, and it made me…”
“Humble?” I suggested.
“Happy. Horny. Hopeful.” He took me in his arms, squishing the last of the English muffin between us. “Congratulations, Ms. Woodhouse. Hartfield Dating Agency has made another great match.”
Outside, the gargoyles cheered.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6890-0
BESPELLING JANE AUSTEN
Copyright © 2010 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:
ALMOST PERSUADED
Copyright © 2010 by Mary Balogh
NORTHANGER CASTLE
Copyright © 2010 by Colleen Gleason
BLOOD AND PREJUDI
CE
Copyright © 2010 by Susan Krinard
LITTLE TO HEX HER
Copyright © 2010 by Janet Mullany
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