his troubled soul.
* * *
“Pardon me for asking—” Sue greeted Elizabeth with a wry smile as she exited the ring “—but what the hell was that?”
Elizabeth made an attempt at nonchalance and shrugged. Not an easy task when every pair of eyes ringside was trained on her. The other exhibitors were openly staring at her, slack-jawed. She wanted to crawl under the bright blue carpeting and disappear, like Bliss did under the covers whenever there was a thunderstorm. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? Are you seriously asking me that? After what just happened?” Sue gestured toward Mr. Darcy, waving the next group of dogs into the ring.
Elizabeth had no idea if he was watching her or not. She couldn’t bear to venture a glance in his direction. She looked at Sue instead. The older woman appraised her with a look that was a peculiar combination of curiosity and sympathy. It hadn’t escaped her notice that the other exhibitors were slinking away as though she had the plague or something. Only Sue Barrow remained at her side.
At that moment, Elizabeth decided she liked Sue. She liked her very much.
“Was it that bad?” Her stomach plummeted, indicating that, yes, what had transpired in the ring had indeed been that bad.
“I’m not sure if I would call it bad, per se.” Sue grimaced. “Although at times it looked as though you were about to slap Mr. Darcy.”
How would she ever show her face at another dog show? “Oh, my God. What have I done? I can’t believe he didn’t excuse me after the things I said.”
“Probably because it also looked like you wanted him to kiss you.”
“You must have been hallucinating.”
Sue wagged a finger at her. “You can’t fool me. I’ve been around the block a few times, dear. You don’t know whether to slap that man or kiss him silly.”
“Ha. As if. Never in a million years.” A phrase from college English Lit ran through Elizabeth’s consciousness. “The lady doth protest too much.” Shakespeare. What a smarty-pants.
“Okay, then. Slapping it is.” Sue nodded resolutely, but behind her glasses her eyes twinkled with humor. “Personally, I would have gone with the kiss, but to each her own.”
“Just who are you planning on kissing?” Alan, Sue’s husband, sidled up next to them. He’d obviously given up on his war with the rubber bands. At least a half dozen of them, knotted together in a spaghetti-like mess, held his armband in place.
“Only you, dear.” Sue gave his cheek a fond pat. “Only you.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile at their easy affection. It was a welcome diversion from the great slapping-versus-kissing debate. She extended her hand and introduced herself to Alan. “Hi, I’m Elizabeth.”
“Cheers, Elizabeth.” Like Sue, he spoke with a British accent.
For a fleeting moment, Elizabeth let her mind wander back to Mr. Darcy’s similar manner of speaking. When he’d first said her name, she’d loved the way it had sounded. Miss Scott. So poetic. Lyrical. Alluring, even.
Then he’d gone and ruined it by insisting on saying it over and over again, until she’d wanted to strangle him with Bliss’s show lead.
“Elizabeth!” Sue waved a hand in front of Elizabeth’s face. “Helloooo?”
She snapped back to attention. “Yes?”
“Distracted again, are we?” Sue exchanged a knowing glance with Alan. “Thinking about Mr. Darcy, no doubt? Which was it this time? Kissing or slapping?”
“Strangulation,” Elizabeth deadpanned.
Alan snorted with laughter.
“Well, here’s your chance. You’re up again.” Sue wrapped an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders and steered her once more to the gap in the white lattice fencing that indicated the entrance to the ring.
Somehow Elizabeth resisted the urge to turn tail and run all the way back to Manhattan. Perhaps it was the thought of all the cardboard boxes that awaited her there, ready to be filled with her personal belongings, that gave her the resilience to walk back into Mr. Darcy’s ring. She had barely been able to afford her rent back when she’d had a paycheck. As much as it grieved her to admit it, her days in the fourth-floor walk-up were numbered.
Facing Mr. Darcy again didn’t seem so painful when compared to the prospect of moving back home with her parents. The mere thought of it made her shudder with dread. Literally.
So she relaxed her shoulders under the pressure of Sue’s grip, gave Bliss’s leash a gentle tug and crossed the threshold back into Mr. Darcy’s territory.
She lined up behind the winners of the other classes of the Winner’s Bitch competition. Since Bliss was only a puppy, her chances of winning against the more mature dogs would have been slim under any judge. Given Mr. Darcy’s apparent prejudice against freckles, Elizabeth knew they didn’t have a prayer. Bliss had a few chestnut spots, which Elizabeth had always found adorable, right next to her little black nose. Of course, hers wasn’t exactly an unbiased opinion. She had her own smattering of freckles across her cheekbones.
She scrunched her face and tried to pretend they weren’t there. She knew Mr. Darcy was judging Bliss’s appearance, not her own. He’d cleared up that humiliating misunderstanding.
But something about the way he looked at her just did her in. Every time he turned his penetrating gaze in her direction, it was all she could do to remember her own name.
“Miss Scott.”
Oh, God. Here we go again.
Well, one thing was certain. She’d never forget her name so long as Mr. Darcy kept repeating it like that.
She steeled herself and looked away from Bliss, straight into his eyes. “Mr. Darcy.”
He smiled when she said his name. As infuriating as she’d found him before, she still wouldn’t have believed he could become more handsome. But the smile took his breathtaking good looks to a whole new level.
She swallowed and said a little prayer of thanks that he couldn’t read her thoughts.
She fully expected him to walk away, for his long legs to carry him to the other side of the ring so he could view the dogs as a group.
He didn’t. He stayed right where he was, unnervingly close. “It’s nice to see you again.”
His voice took her by surprise in both its mere presence and its sincerity. Judges rarely spoke to individual exhibitors in a crowded ring, and certainly not about anything unrelated to the show. Part of her wondered if he was simply mocking her. Her earlier appearance in the ring could hardly be described as nice. But the haughty air about him had somehow seemed to dissipate, leaving her in a fog of confusion.
Will the real Mr. Darcy please stand up?
“Um, thank you.” She kept her response brief. To the point.
What was she supposed to say? Lovely to see you again, Mr. Darcy. The last time was such a pleasure. Let’s see...I can’t seem to recall which moment I enjoyed the most. Could it have been when I accidentally flashed you, and you looked down my dress? Or perhaps when you insulted my dog? Or maybe when I started to cry? Yes, that’s it! A moment to cherish, for certain.
He paused, as if waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, thunderclouds gathered in his eyes before he finally turned away.
The exhibitor beside Elizabeth groaned under her breath. “Thanks a lot.”
Elizabeth glanced at her, more out of curiosity than anything else. She was taken aback to find the woman glaring at her with hostility. “Excuse me?”
“I said thanks a lot,” she hissed without moving