So the president didn’t want her talking to George? Maybe he shouldn’t have used Elizabeth to score political points. Elizabeth gave George a bright smile. “Would you like to dance?”
He glanced in President Darcy’s direction. “I’d love to. But I have two left feet.” He leaned closer to her. “I was actually thinking of touring the grounds. The music is rather loud.”
The silence outside would be a balm for her ears. “That would be wonderful.”
With a pleased grin, George held out his right arm—Lydia still had possession of the left—for Elizabeth to take. They promenaded awkwardly, three abreast, toward the exit as Lydia cozied up to the congressman, allowing her breast to brush his arm.
Elizabeth didn’t need to compete with Lydia over George, but she found her sister’s brazenness to be embarrassing and more than a little disturbing. Her parents had never tried to curb Lydia’s more wanton impulses, and it was probably too late now.
When they swept into the front hallway, the temperature dropped at least five degrees; Elizabeth sighed gratefully. They continued through the hallway and the metal detectors to the front of the house.
It was night, of course, but the Secret Service had brought in lights that illuminated the sides of the house. Fortunately, it was warm for May, and Elizabeth was quite comfortable with a shawl around her shoulders. George led the two women toward a path curving toward the back of the house and into a garden. The ornamental shrubs were early-spring green, and the azaleas were bursting with pinks, but the rose bushes and other plants were still rather bare.
George removed his tuxedo jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He had a build that was more likely to be found on an athlete than a congressman.
As their feet crunched along the gravel path, both Lydia and Elizabeth wobbled in their high heels. Lydia clutched George’s arm. “Don’t abandon me! I can’t make it without you,” she teased. Elizabeth snorted.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” George said, his eyes darting to Elizabeth. “Are you all right?”
“I will be.” Elizabeth rested her hand on a low stone wall to balance herself while she removed her shoes and stepped barefoot onto the gravel, made from rounded river stones. Her feet reacted like Medieval prisoners that had been released from the rack. “Ahh… much better.” George grinned at her.
They continued their perambulations. Much of the garden was in silhouette, but the light revealed clusters of daffodils and tulips. Everything was exquisitely maintained; the gardening budget must be huge.
“I’m afraid I don’t know much about Congress. Which party do you belong to?” Elizabeth asked him.
“I’m a Republican,” he replied with an easy grin. “But I’m a pretty progressive Republican. You have to be to represent New York City.”
“I’m in favor of progress, too,” Lydia said.
George lifted one corner of his mouth. “Yes, unfortunately, in Washington one learns all too quickly the truth of the saying, ‘If the opposite of pro is con, what’s the opposite of progress?”
Lydia thought for a moment. “Congress?” She guffawed. “That’s a scream!”
“Do you work with the president much?” Elizabeth asked.
He hesitated for a moment. “Not professionally, but I know Will personally.”
“Who’s Will?” Lydia asked. “Oh! The president! You know him? That is so cool!” She edged closer to George, invading even more of his personal space.
“We grew up together,” George said in a humble-brag way.
“You grew up with the president?” Lydia’s eyes were wide and sparkling.
Huh. That was odd. “I’ve read a fair amount about President Darcy. I haven’t seen you mentioned in anything about his childhood.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t.” George’s mouth flattened to a thin line. “We had a…falling out a while ago, and his staff has tried to erase me from the official record.” He kicked a stone in the pathway.
“Really?” Lydia could scent juicy gossip like a dog smelled a steak.
Evidently being difficult and proud weren’t the president’s only offenses. Why would he pretend an old childhood friend didn’t exist? “Was it over political differences?” she asked. The president might have felt betrayed when George joined the other party.
George blew out a breath. “No, not at all.”
Now Elizabeth was even more curious. “What happened?” Lydia asked. “I mean, if you don’t mind telling us.”
George’s eyes glittered, reflecting the floodlights. He hesitated; a pained expression ghosted over his face, but he also seemed about to burst with suppressed energy. “It’s a difficult part of my past, but sometimes it helps to talk about it.”
Lydia nodded sympathetically, rubbing his arm with her hand. “You can unburden yourself to us. It’s an important part of the healing process.” Elizabeth suppressed a laugh.