President Darcy

“Good. That’s good.” Elizabeth said, relieved. “He’s not trustworthy. A lot of what he told us about the president isn’t true.”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed. “Who said so?”

Elizabeth immediately saw the problem with her assertion. “Well, er, the president did. In confidence. I can’t explain it all. But believe me when I say George didn’t tell us everything.”

“How do you know the president is telling the truth?”

“He’s the president!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“The last one lied like a rug.” Lydia crossed her arms over her chest.

Elizabeth exhaled deeply. “Will is known for his honesty—for bringing integrity back to the White House.”

“Will? Will?” Lydia screeched. Elizabeth winced at her stupid mistake. “Who calls the president ‘Will’?” Elizabeth stared at her sister blankly; surely there was a plausible excuse for calling the president by his first name—but inspiration did not strike.

“I knew it!” Lydia crowed. “Something did happen on Air Force One! You looked so strange when we picked you up. What base did you get to? Second? Third? All the way home?”

“It’s not like that!” Elizabeth lowered her voice as if members of the press lurked in her curtains. “I don’t even like him.”

Lydia gave her a disbelieving l

ook. “Right. Sure. Admit it: you think he’s hot.”

“I don’t think he’s hot.” I should be crossing my fingers behind my back.

“C’mon! You totally flirted with him and made a play for him.” Lydia pointed the spoon accusingly at Elizabeth. “Did he shoot you down?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lydia.” The Twitter queen of Washington D.C. would be the worst person to know the truth. “He’s proud and difficult. He called me stupid and ugly. I don’t want to have anything to do with him.”

Lydia put her hands on her hips. “You. Think. He’s. Hot. Case closed.”

“He’s the one who thinks Elizabeth’s hot!” Jane blurted out and then slapped a hand over her mouth with a horrified expression on her face.

Lydia whirled toward Elizabeth. “He likes you? Oh my God! The president likes you?” She clapped her hands as if she’d received the best birthday present in the world.

“No, he doesn’t,” Elizabeth replied briskly. “Jane is just joking, right, Jane?”

Lydia glanced over her shoulder at Jane, who was still frozen with her hand over her mouth. “Then why does she look like she just betrayed a state secret?”

She had to throw Lydia off the scent. “Um…she realized the joke was in bad taste,” Elizabeth said. “It hurt my feelings.”

Lydia’s eyes lit up. “OMG! He hit on you when you were on Air Force One!”

Why did Lydia’s primary talent have to be sniffing out secrets? She continued with a gleeful air, “And you don’t like him, so you were upset—when every other woman in the world would be thrilled. What happened? Did the Secret Service have to intervene to save your virtue?”

“No, no, no!” Elizabeth cried. “You are way, way off base! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lydia folded her arms and gave Elizabeth a piercing look. “I hope you don’t plan a career as a professional poker player.”

Elizabeth gave Jane a despairing look. “I hope someday Lydia will use her powers for good,” Jane murmured as her shoulders slumped.

“Okay, something happened,” Elizabeth conceded. “But I can’t tell you about it, and it’s not going to happen again.”

Lydia grinned triumphantly. “I knew it!”

“You can’t say anything about what you know,” Elizabeth implored her. “Or what you think you know. There’s nothing going on, and I don’t want any rumors to start.”

Lydia was all wounded innocence. “Of course not. I am a vault. I am a Fort Knox of information.”