President Darcy

Fitz must have sensed an impending soliloquy. He turned to Elizabeth. “I enjoyed your presentation today.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Enjoyed?”

“Yes!” Fitz grinned broadly. “Do you know how many briefings I sit through every day? To have one that’s lively, informative, and with a sense of humor? Well, that’s like manna from heaven.”

Was he serious? “Oh, I’m glad you thought so. I was so nervous!” Damn. Why did I admit that?

“Mrs. de Bourgh has a great remedy for nerves,” Bill weighed in. “It involves rubbing raw onion on your hands and swallowing a pinch of saffron.”

“Well, at least it doesn’t require live chickens…unlike her cure for eczema,” Fitz murmured. Was he serious? Movement from the other end of the room caught his eye. “Aunt Catherine is glancing this way. Perhaps she needs you.”

Bill wrenched his stricken face toward his employer. “I’m coming, Mrs. de Bourgh! I’m coming!” he cried as he hurried away.

Fitz watched him go, somewhat bemused. Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Bill is extremely grateful for your aunt’s…patronage.”

A smile played about Fitz’s lips. “I’m sure she’s grateful for his…attentiveness.” He took a sip from his drink. “I’m pleased to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much.”

“From Bing?” she asked. That might not be good.

Fitz blinked rapidly. “No. Darcy sings your praises.” He gestured expansively with a drink in one hand. “I’m sure you know he’s not easily impressed.”

Wait. What? “The president mentioned me?” What would he say about her except that she was the sister of the woman Bing dumped?

Fitz gave a matter-of-fact nod. “He greatly admires you…your work.” When she didn’t respond, he rubbed his chin and regarded her quizzically. “You didn’t—he didn’t tell you?”

“No!” Elizabeth was too shocked to dissemble.

“Hmm.” Fitz’s eyes focused on his wine glass. “Well, he’s not always forthcoming.”

“That’s an understatement.” Her phone pinged, and she pulled it out of her purse. “Please excuse me for a second.” She frowned at the screen and tucked the phone away.

“Bad news?” Fitz inquired with a look of polite interest.

She shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal. I’ve been trying to get an earlier flight back to the U.S. Right now, I’m scheduled for Thursday, and that’ll make me miss my mom’s birthday. I’d been hoping for a place on a Wednesday flight.”

“That’s a shame.” He seemed to genuinely sympathize with Elizabeth—so much more amiable than his cousin. She might even be friends with a guy like this. “The summit was a bigger success than the organizers expected,” he said. “A lot of people must be leaving on Wednesday after the closing speeches.”

Elizabeth nodded, happy to be on a more neutral topic of conversation. “I hope they make this an annual event.”

“I’m sure they will.” His attention was caught by something off to his right. “I’m going for a refill,” he said abruptly, holding up his empty glass. “Can I get you something?”

Yeah, a good stiff drink. But that would be a spectacularly bad idea with her empty stomach. “Another glass of white wine would be lovely. Thank you.”

He bobbed his head and hurried to the bar.

“Elizabeth!” Whirling at the sound of her name, she found President Darcy approaching with determined, ground-eating strides. He had been impressive in a tux, but this perfectly tailored blue suit was devastating. The dark cobalt hue magnified the blueness of his eyes, crinkling with a welcoming smile. Sensuous lips curved in a grin that made Elizabeth’s knees weak. She double-checked to make sure her mouth wasn’t hanging open.

The president took her hand in both of his in a gesture that was more a clasp than a handshake. “I’m so happy you came. And you had a chance to speak with Fitz—”

“There you are, William!” Catherine de Bourgh bore down on them like an ocean liner approaching a dinghy, and Elizabeth quelled an impulse to back away. The woman’s foundation was well known for donating millions to worthy causes, but at the moment she looked like she had sucked on a lemon. She appeared to be in her early seventies, despite having had a fair amount of “work” done to her face. Holding herself in a very upright posture, she tilted up her chin and contemplated Elizabeth coolly.

The president hesitated. Was he ashamed of Elizabeth? Then he swallowed. “Elizabeth Bennet, this is my aunt, Catherine de Bourgh.” Shaking the woman’s hand was like squeezing a wet washrag. “Aunt Catherine is actually the host of tonight’s dinner.”

The older woman narrowed her eyes at her nephew. “Which William feels entitled to invite everyone to,” she said with a sniff.

The woman obviously wasn’t happy about Elizabeth’s presence. Perhaps the words were intended to intimidate her, but they had the opposite effect. Elizabeth gave the woman a smile full of teeth. “He’s the president. Does he need to ask permission?”

Mrs. de Bourgh was clearly unaccustomed to being challenged. “Well, naturally—”