mean that he’s an incorrigible flirt, of course,’ she retorted. ‘It’s no secret. And don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed.’
Lizzy knew the entire female population of South Devon fancied Harry Darcy – and not only for his charm and rakish good looks.
While it was true that, unlike his elder brother, he wouldn’t inherit Cleremont, he’d eventually come into a fortune – and the combination of his handsome face along with a healthy bank balance made him catnip to the ladies of Litchfield and Longbourne.
‘Isn’t that actress, Cara Winslow, playing Elizabeth Bennet?’ their father asked.
Lizzy nodded. ‘Yes, and she’s very pretty.’ She made no mention of her demanding behaviour on set. ‘It sounds like a cliché, but her skin really is like porcelain. Although,’ she mused, ‘the make-up lady put rather a lot of foundation on her left cheek. I think she might’ve had a blemish or something.’
‘I imagine those cameras are unforgiving,’ Mr Bennet murmured.
Emma set her book aside and stood. ‘Well, with all of this chatter, it’s quite impossible to read. I might as well go and start lunch. I’m making egg and cress sandwiches and a fruit salad if anyone’s interested.’
‘Shall I come along and help?’ Lizzy asked.
‘No, the salad’s already done. Besides, I can manage the rest quite well on my own.’
And with that, Emma took up her book and left.
Lizzy dropped into the chair she’d vacated. ‘Why is Em always so moody? I can’t put a foot right with her lately.’
Mr Bennet folded his newspaper and put it aside. ‘It’s all to do with her breakup with Jeremy. To use another cliché – it took the wind out of her sails. It hit your sister hard, I’m afraid, and rightly so. So you must try and find a bit of understanding and compassion for her situation.’
With a sigh, Lizzy slumped back in her chair. Emma and Jeremy North had planned to be married last summer. The wedding gown, the flowers, the music, even the sit-down dinner menu for their guests – all had been chosen (mostly by Emma), arranged, and paid for. Mr Bennet was to come out of retirement and officiate at the wedding in the village church.
The night before the wedding, Jeremy came to Litchfield Manor and, after spending time with Emma behind the closed doors of the library, emerged with a grim face, and left.
Emma followed, her own face equally grim, and informed them that the wedding was cancelled. Mr North had changed his mind. Then she retreated to her room and did not come out for a week.
It fell to Lizzy and her father to call everyone on Emma’s list to explain that the wedding was cancelled. The caterers were called, the organist, the florist, and the photographer.
The profusion of elegantly wrapped wedding gifts piled on the dining room table had to be removed and returned. Mr Bennet took delivery of the wedding cake that morning (it being too late to cancel) and whisked it away to a local hospital before Emma might see it.
It had been a horrible, trying time.
‘I have plenty of compassion. But right now, I’m tired of being understanding,’ Lizzy grumbled. ‘I was in a good mood when I came home, and now it’s ruined. Why must we always jolly Emma up? It’s been almost a year. She needs to move on.’
‘There isn’t a timetable for these things, Elizabeth,’ her father reproached her. He smiled. ‘I know it isn’t your strong suit, but you must try and be patient.’
Lizzy leaned forward. ‘Bother being patient. She’s miserable, and wants everyone else around her to be miserable, too. Well,’ she added as she got up, ‘I refuse to coddle my sister any longer. I’m done being nice to Emma. She isn’t the only person who’s ever had her heart broken, after all.’
And she got up and stalked back into the house.
***
Hugh adjusted his tie and regarded himself critically in the mirror. ‘Will I do?’ he asked as he turned to Holly.
She smiled, her gaze taking in his dinner jacket and his dark, uncertain gaze, and slid her arms around his neck. ‘You’ll do, Mr Darcy.’ She kissed him and, after a few, blissful moments, sighed against his lips. ‘Let’s stay here and you can ravish me. We’ll start on your bed, then we’ll move to the rug, and then that nice, cushioned window seat over there…’
‘You sound like a choreographer.’
‘Come on, Hugh,’ she coaxed. ‘Let’s skip dinner with your family and stay here. We’ll tell them we’re tired after the trip down from London.’ She began to nibble his earlobe.
‘Stop it, Holly,’ he warned, only half joking as he pulled away, ‘or we’ll be late to dinner.’
‘And we can’t have that, can we?’
If he noticed the trace of irritation in her voice, he gave no sign. ‘I’m sure my mother’s had the servants pull out all the stops for you tonight.’
‘I’m sure,’ Holly agreed, and toyed with his lapel. ‘Twelve courses, finger bowls and ice sculptures, no doubt. Only…’
He caught her hand in his and regarded her with a questioning expression. ‘Only what?’
‘Why can’t we share a room?’ she asked. ‘It’s barbaric that you’re here in the east wing, and I’m stuck in the west.’
He kissed her on the cheek and turned back to the mirror to adjust his tie once again. ‘It’s a matter of propriety, I suppose, and keeping my mother happy, that’s all. I don’t think my father cares a jot what we get up to.’ He raised his brow at her reflection behind him in the mirror. ‘And it’s not like you can’t sneak out and slip into my room in the middle of the night, you know.’
‘Ha! Like I’d ever find my way from there to here, and in the dark,’ she grumbled. ‘I’d end up in the scullery, or something.’
‘Then I’d go and find you.’
Holly came up behind him and slid her arms around his waist. ‘Your mother hates me,’ she sighed, and rested her chin on his shoulder. ‘She put me in the west wing deliberately, to keep us apart. And she still calls me “Miss James”.’
‘These things take time. Wait until I make the announcement that we’re engaged; then she’ll warm up to you. Besides…’ He paused and turned around to take her back into his arms. ‘It might do us good to be separated for the duration of our visit.’ He leaned closer and nuzzled the sensitive skin behind her ear. ‘When we do finally manage to get together, it’ll make things that much more exciting. Incendiary, even.’
‘Hmmph.’ Holly wasn’t convinced. ‘Fifty Shades of Longing, you mean?’
He rested his forehead against hers. ‘Exactly,’ he murmured. ‘Although I don’t know if I can stand the wait.’
‘I know I can’t.’ The scent of his aftershave – something rare and expensive by Creed, no doubt – was making her
