lifted a perfectly groomed brow at him. “Is this true, Donovan?”
Zara answered for him. “Of course it’s true. He met a woman named Elizabeth Scott. An American. They only had eyes for each other.”
“Zara.” Donovan shot her a warning glance.
He had no intention of letting her use Elizabeth to make Helena jealous. Not only was she stretching the truth considerably—his eyes might have been drawn toward Elizabeth, but her eyes had seemed to have plenty of places to look other than his direction—but he didn’t want Elizabeth’s name batted about so casually.
He preferred to leave the memory of her intact, a sweet place filled with a thousand tender recollections he could visit now and again. Privately.
“I’m all astonishment. An American. How quaint.” Helena attempted a smile, but it came off as more of a sneer. Donovan could see panic gathering behind her eyes. “Well, it’s getting late. I really should be going.”
She slithered past Donovan, leaving him choking on a cloud of her perfume. She paused when she reached the doorway, then added, as an apparent afterthought, “Nice puppies.”
“Thank you,” he answered, but she was already gone.
He turned toward Zara. “That was uncalled for.”
“You should be thanking me. She’s always throwing herself at you.” Zara stepped into the whelping pen in her stocking feet and placed the puppy back beside Figgy’s belly. “Anyway, she deserves it.”
“Helena may deserve it, but Miss Scott most certainly doesn’t deserve to be in Helena Robson’s crosshairs.” The throb in his temples intensified into full-on jackhammering. “For one thing, she’s not quite as besotted with me as you indicated.”
“Oh, relax,” Zara groaned. “What difference does it make? It’s not as if Helena will ever actually meet her. You’ll probably never see her again yourself.”
Her words, although true, were an arrow straight to his heart. He felt himself caving in beneath their weight.
He straightened. Why should he care if he ever saw Miss Scott again? There were plenty of beautiful women right here in England, none of whom made a habit of looking at him with obvious disdain in their eyes. Still, it was a struggle to clear his throat and speak with any sort of composure. “True.”
Zara laughed. “And it’s a good thing. Can you imagine if she were here? Helena would eat her alive.”
Donovan shuddered.
Eat her alive indeed.
* * *
Elizabeth’s first impression of London was that it was rather like looking at New York through rose-colored glasses. The people were far more fashionable. There wasn’t a pair of white athletic shoes in sight, and you couldn’t swing a stick without hitting someone with a fashionable Burberry scarf wound around their neck. Everything seemed cleaner, too, as if the city had recently had a good scrubbing. Then again, she was gathering her first impression of London from behind the privacy windows of a fancy black Jaguar.
The driver and his luxurious car had been the Barrows’ doing. A kind gesture, but one that made Elizabeth a tad nervous nonetheless. As she’d slid into the supple leather backseat with Bliss curled in her lap, she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly she’d gotten herself into. Jenna had insisted the Barrows were rich. Elizabeth had no argument there. They’d just hired a dog nanny, for crying out loud.
Oh, God, had she lost her mind? She’d just moved halfway across the world to become a dog nanny.
Calm down. It’s only temporary. Four weeks. The duration of the investigation.
Even if things didn’t get straightened out at the Barclay School, it wasn’t as if she could move to England forever.
Could she?
Her mother had reacted with predictable horror to the news. “Elizabeth, you can’t be serious. You’re a teacher, not a babysitter. These people you’ve only just met want you to be their nanny, for goodness’ sake. And not even for children. For dogs. What are they thinking? What are you thinking? You have a perfectly good job waiting for you at Scott Bridal.”
Elizabeth had refrained from pointing out that working at the bridal shop hardly constituted a teaching position, either. There was little point in rocking the boat any more than necessary. She’d made up her mind. “I won’t just be their nanny. I’m going to show the dogs for the Barrows at the autumn shows. I helped them out at the show in New Jersey and did quite well. Better than I’ve ever done with my own dog, actually. This is my chance to see England, all expenses paid. And the timing is perfect, since I’m on hiatus from school.”
It had been almost frightening the way the words on hiatus had fallen right off her tongue. Elizabeth wasn’t about to tell her family about the accusations Grant Markham had leveled against her. With the exception of Jenna, she hadn’t breathed a word about it to another soul. In the meantime, words like hiatus and temporary layoff had a much better ring than extortion and investigation. Her mother had pressed for more information, naturally. But Elizabeth had managed to satisfy her maternal curiosity by blaming the bad economy and skyrocketing unemployment.
At least Jenna had been supportive.
“Of course you’re going,” she’d said. “This is perfect for you.”
Elizabeth had wished, not for the first time, that Jenna was accompanying her. She’d felt awful leaving her behind at Scott Bridal. “You promised to visit. Remember?”
“Of course. As soon as you get settled, I’ll be on the first plane across the pond. Don’t tell me you’re worried about being lonely? Bliss is going with you. And the Barrows seem like sweethearts.” Then Jenna’s eyes had sparkled with mischief. “Hey, I just thought of something. You know someone else over there. Besides the Barrows, I mean.”
“What are you talking about?” Elizabeth had asked, but she’d had the uneasy feeling she knew precisely who Jenna meant.
“That hot judge from the dog show. What was his name again? Daniel?”
“Darcy,” Elizabeth had corrected, hating the way her stomach had flipped when she’d said his name.
“Are you sure it wasn’t Daniel?” Jenna had sounded wistful.
“You seriously need to get over your Daniel Craig fixation. I’m sure. It’s Darcy. Donovan Darcy.”
“Well, there you go. Donovan Darcy. Someone to keep you company in jolly old England.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Elizabeth had protested, but her cheeks had grown warm all the same.
“Why is it ridiculous? I think it sounds marvelous. He’s gorgeous. And remember his accent? Oh, my God.”
Elizabeth had remembered his accent. All too well.
“Have you forgotten the woman he was with? The one who looked half my age?” Zara of the smooth forehead and designer shoes. “Besides, I’ll never run into him over there. He doesn’t even live in London.
