He chuckled. “So Darcy, huh?”
“Intolerable ass. He’s very rude and very intense.”
“And very handsome, if your mother is to be believed. I think he’s in the top five on her list of potential husbands for you.”
“The worst ones are always the prettiest, aren’t they?”
Lila and Kash sat across from me, and Lila leaned in. “My event firm did a De Bourgh party last year—that’s the Darcys’ aunt, right?”
“That’s their firm,” I said. “De Bourgh and Associates. Or Douche Bags and Asses. Whatever’s your preference.”
Lila shook her head. “Those people are something else. Catherine is heading the firm now? Do I remember that right?”
“You do,” Jett answered. “I doubt we’ll meet her, though. We’re way below her pay grade.”
“Count yourself lucky,” Lila said. “I would not want to cross swords with her. Working for her was hard enough, and everything went so smoothly—partly because I was terrified into my best behavior. She still had plenty to say about it, and none of it was particularly kind.”
“So being an uppity jerk is genetic? Huh. Must have skipped Georgie.”
“I’ll have you know,” Mom said with her nose in the air, “that Liam Darcy is one of the most eligible bachelors in New York. Surely he’s just waiting on the right girl to settle down.” She bestowed me with a pointed look.
“And I’ll have you know that, bachelor or not, any man who called me ‘tolerable’ and suggested Jett and I were beneath them isn’t someone I’d ever refer to as eligible. Not for anything but a fist in his eye.”
Mom blinked. “He said … are you sure you heard him right?”
“Oh, I am most definitely sure. He doesn’t think much of us and definitely not of me. So please, do me a favor and cross Darcy off your list.”
To her credit, she tried not to pout. “I’ll asterisk him.”
I sighed.
The conversation picked up when, mercifully, Tess launched into her and Luke’s plans for the next shop window installment. Once she got Mom going, Tess and I shared a look, and I mouthed, Thank you.
They carried on, and I leaned back in my seat, unnaturally silent as I thought about Darcy, peeking into the box I’d stuffed him into. The splinter of humiliation was still there in my heart, and pain flared at the memory. His face, carved with contempt. His tone, biting and superior. He hadn’t even looked sorry when he saw me—there was no remorse, no care for me or my feelings. Only a look that said, I’m not wrong, and you know it.
Until that moment, I hadn’t known it. I never thought of anyone above or below me, but having now been the subject of his scrutiny, I felt the acute sting of that particular cruelty.
But it didn’t matter what he thought of me. I could tolerate him just as he’d proclaimed he’d tolerate me. We could find a place of neutrality as long as he kept his insults locked in his brain.
And I wouldn’t be held responsible for what I did if he didn’t.
5
Tell Me How You Really Feel
LIAM
“Are you going to play nice today?” Georgie asked from the other side of my desk, her arms folded and eyes accusing.
“I’ll play like I always play.”
“So no.”
“I wouldn’t alter myself for anyone, Georgie. I’m surprised you’d even suggest it.”
“You owe Laney Bennet an apology.”
“You’ve mentioned that.” I hadn’t exactly agreed to it. But I hadn’t told her no, either.
“She works for our client. It’s not up for discussion, Liam. Smooth it over. If not for her, do it for me—I’d rather not spend all my free time sweeping up whatever trouble your mouth gets us into.”
Georgie might have said it with a teasing air, but I saw through her. It went deeper than that—she wasn’t just talking about our standing with the client or the firm. There was a motive under the motive.
“You can’t see Jett Bennet.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I know that.”
“Aunt Catherine would never sanction it. She’d punish you for it and me for not stopping you. And that’s without the fact that you’d be breaching company policies.”
“I know that. I said I won’t, and I won’t. But I’ll be at Wasted Words a lot. Are you sure you’re not going to go all … Liam about it?”
“Did you just use my name as an adjective?”
She gave me a flat-browed look. “You know how you get. Don’t make me spell it out.”
“No, really—how exactly do I get?”
A huff. “Overprotective. Presumptuous. Invasive. Rude.”
My chair squeaked as I leaned back, mirroring her pose. “Forgive me for trying to protect my sister. Pardon me for not wanting to see you hurt again.”
“Oh, you like to think you’re the white knight, but really, you just locked me in a tower and threw away the key. I’m a big girl. If he taught me anything, it was that I’m a terrible judge of character. But I’m still an adult. My decisions are still mine—they have nothing to do with you.”
A defensive fire swept through me. “They have everything to do with me, George. Your feelings are my feelings. When you’re in pain, so am I. Neither of us wants to see you there again—not after what he did. We could stand to be cautious. Suspicious. But I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you to dampen your happiness. I don’t want to see you turn into a cynic. So leave the cynicism to me, but don’t get mad when we fundamentally disagree. Trust me.”
She sighed, resigned, even though her eyes swept the ceiling. “I do. You know I do.”
Before either of us spoke again, the door to my office opened, and Caroline Bingley strutted in.
She was a preening white peacock with porcelain skin, wearing a pencil skirt and tailored satin shirt a shade of snow. Her flaxen hair shone, arranged in a flawless manner to match the rest of her. But it was the shrewd smile on her face that spoke the truth of her nature, which was not nearly as pure as her carefully cultivated exterior suggested.
“I thought I’d find you two in here. Conspiring again?”
Georgie offered her a false smile. “You know us. Always sneaking around.” She stood, heading for the door. Georgie hated being in confined spaces with Caroline, and I couldn’t blame her. Caroline could suck the joy out of a room in under a minute. “See you at the meeting.” Her eyes snagged mine and leveled me with a warning. Be nice to Laney Bennet, that look said.
Only for you, mine said back.
Satisfied, she left.
Caroline rounded my desk and hitched herself half onto the surface, seeming to enjoy the few inches of height it gave her over me. It was a game she played, an unveiled offering I’d never accept. I’d seen her unhinge her jaw and swallow people before, and though I’d be a tough bite to swallow, I wasn’t interested in that fight.
“Did you need something, Caroline?” I asked without making eye contact, jotting in the planner I kept on my desk—the hard copy to match the digital one.