“She is. Thank you.”
Elizabeth wasn’t sure what else to say. Her gaze flitted to Zara, who stood quietly watching their exchange. If it bothered her that Mr. Darcy had stopped dead in his tracks to carry on a conversation with another woman, she gave no indication of it. Then again, why would it bother her? She’d heard him call her tolerable. She knew Elizabeth was no threat.
At the very least, Elizabeth figured Zara would be ready to move on and away from the pedestrians who jostled their way around their little threesome. Oddly enough, she didn’t seem to care a whit about any of it.
Elizabeth glanced back at Mr. Darcy. His dark eyes were trained on her, watching her with his trademark intensity. Her first instinct was to look away, but the unexpected earnestness in those brooding eyes made her fix her gaze on his.
He looked at her for a long, silent moment before he finally spoke. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood a few things I’ve said.”
Something about his gaze was so tender, Elizabeth could feel it down to her toes. And she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but somehow she knew he was referring to the tolerable comment. If it were possible for a person to make amends with just a look, Donovan Darcy was giving it a go.
Elizabeth was captivated. She felt as though they were the only two people on the busy sidewalk. Impossible, of course. People swarmed all around them, not to mention the very-present Zara.
Then Elizabeth’s handbag barked, breaking the magic spell.
Zara’s baby-smooth forehead creased in apparent confusion. “Was that a bark?”
Mr. Darcy tilted his head and lifted an amused brow. “Are you sure Bliss is at home? It sounds as though she hitched a ride in your purse.”
“It’s my ringtone.” Elizabeth fished around in her bag for her barking phone. “I should probably answer this. It could be important.”
In fact, the likelihood of the call being important was slim at best. It was just something to say, a way to extricate herself from what was beginning to feel oddly like some sort of love triangle.
Love triangle. As if.
Elizabeth wanted to kick herself.
Instead, she answered the phone. “Hello?”
Mr. Darcy stood right where he was, rooted to the spot. Why wasn’t he leaving? What was he doing here, anyway? Although the collection of shopping bags dangling from Zara’s slender arms hinted at the purpose of their trip. Chanel. Gucci. And especially nauseating, Prada.
Elizabeth averted her gaze before she spotted a bag from Tiffany’s. She didn’t think she’d be able to stomach such a thing.
“Elizabeth, dear, is that you? It’s Sue. Sue Barrow.”
“Oh, Sue. How wonderful to hear from you.”
As she spoke, Elizabeth was aware of Mr. Darcy watching her mouth. She was sure it was because she was talking. What else did he have to look at? Still, it unnerved her in a way she was ashamed to admit wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
“Sue, could you hold on for a second?”
“Certainly.”
With Sue safely on hold, Elizabeth clutched her phone to her chest. Clearly a dismissal was in order. Mr. Darcy didn’t appear to be in a hurry to get anywhere, and Elizabeth was ready for him to go. As pleasant as he was to look at, she had no desire to hang out with him and Zara.
“Well, it was nice seeing you both.” Elizabeth smiled. “But I really need to take this. Enjoy your stay in the city.”
Something flickered in Mr. Darcy’s dark eyes. Frustration? Elizabeth couldn’t be sure.
“Miss Scott.” He bent at the waist slightly.
A bow. He’d bowed at her. Who did that? What was she supposed to do now? Curtsy?
She settled on a wave. “Bye.”
Elizabeth walked away, letting the swarm of people on the sidewalk swallow her up. She picked up her pace as she picked up the phone. “Sue, hi. I’m so sorry.”
“No worries. Alan and I are sitting at the airport, waiting for our flight home. No hurry.” Elizabeth could hear a smile in Sue’s voice at the mention of her husband.
“You’re on your way back to London?”
“Yes. Alan has business meetings this week. Actually, that’s why I’m calling. Alan and I have a proposition for you, Elizabeth. One I hope will sound appealing.”
Elizabeth’s steps slowed. “A proposition?”
“The other night at dinner, we couldn’t help but overhear your mother mention that you were out of work at the moment.”
Overhear. Sue was being polite. Elizabeth’s mother had roared on and on about it, as was her custom.
“Yes, I am.” She struggled for an explanation. The Barrows seemed like nice, accepting people, but admitting she’d been accused of extortion would threaten the limits of anyone’s understanding. “Temporary layoff.”
“I’ll get right to the point, then. We have a job offer for you. You were such a help at the dog show in New Jersey. I could use an extra pair of hands for the shows across the pond. It’s so difficult finding help back home, and my dogs respond so well to you.”
Elizabeth clutched her phone with both hands, desperate to make sure she’d heard Sue correctly. Someone bumped her from behind, and she almost fell to her knees on a manhole cover but she didn’t even care. “You have a job for me?”
“Yes, dear.” Her words had the effect of a welcome breeze, strong enough to lift a wedding veil straight off Elizabeth’s head and send it sailing away into the distance. “In London.”
5
Donovan was exhausted. He hadn’t slept a wink on the flight to Heathrow, a fact he chalked up to his preoccupation with Elizabeth Scott. She’d tormented his thoughts all the way across the Atlantic.
Donovan wasn’t accustomed to chasing women. In fact, the opposite was a far more regular occurrence. Case in point: Helena Robson, who’d called him at least once a day during his trip, leaving syrupy voice mails and several times even sending him texts that bordered on sexting.
It was pathetic.
And now here he was, among the infatuated. He was mortified at himself. He was, in short, a mess.
To make matters worse, the puppies had come. Donovan knew it as soon as his butler opened the front door. His anxious expression said it all.
“Sir,” Lawrence started.
“Don’t tell me.” Donovan held up his hand to stop him from saying the words aloud. He didn’t think he could bear it. “I’m late, aren’t I? Figgy had the puppies.”
“I’m afraid so, sir. Yes.” Lawrence’s shoulders sagged. “But everything went smoothly. Figgy is doing marvelously, as are the puppies. Four in all.”
Four puppies. And he’d missed the entire event.
“Puppies!” Zara dropped her carry-on bag on the threshold. It landed with the heavy thud of three shoe boxes from the Chanel store. “Oh, let’s go see.”
She maneuvered past Lawrence, just as Finneus, the sire of Figgy’s litter, danced and wiggled his way toward Donovan.
“Come along, little man. Time for you to pass out cigars and such.” Donovan scooted Finneus inside with a nudge of his foot and shut the door behind him.
“Um, sir, there’s something else I should tell you.” Lawrence shot a nervous glance toward the