President Darcy

True to her word, Charlotte Lucas folded up the statement and walked from the room, ignoring the reporters shouting questions at her. Hilliard used the remote to switch off the set.

Darcy expelled a long breath as Hilliard jumped from his seat and high-fived Bing. “Yes!” he exulted. “You were right about her,” Hilliard told Darcy.

“You’re not out of the woods, but at least she confirmed your story.” Bing sagged against the fireplace mantel. “Thank God!”

Darcy nodded, unsure why he didn’t share their sense of relief.

“Now we’ll have to see if the press believes her assertions, or if they think you coerced her into making the statement,” Hilliard said as he made notes on a legal pad.

Leaning forward in his seat, Darcy dropped his head into his hands. “Why did she say we were friends?” he asked nobody in particular. When he lifted his head, the others were staring at him.

“Sorry?” Hilliard asked. “Did you want her to say you were enemies?”

“No.” Darcy laughed without mirth. “But friends—gah!” Perhaps that was how she viewed their relationship now, but the word just felt wrong.

“Actually,” Hilliard said, “if you notice, she didn’t deny you had a romantic relationship.” Both Bing and Darcy looked at him. “She said you were friends, but she never said you were just friends. She left a lot of wiggle room there.”

Darcy’s heart leapt. “So you think there’s hope?”

Hilliard nodded. “Yeah, as long as she sticks to that statement, we might be able to avoid congressional hearings.”

There was a long pause during which Darcy said nothing.

Hilliard jerked his head up. “Oh, that wasn’t the kind of hope you meant.” He sat up straighter and cleared his throat. “Well, of course there’s hope. Isn’t there always hope? Unless she marries someone else. But what do I know? I’ve been married three times. More importantly…”

Darcy tuned Hilliard out. Elizabeth had defended him; she seemed to care about him. Maybe he should call her, but what if that muddied the waters? What if she hung up on him?

Darcy’s phone rang. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to the pocket where he kept it. Few people had his private cell phone number, but the group included the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Secretary of State. Darcy always answered it. He pulled it from his pocket, and his eyes widened at the name on the screen. “Georgie? What’s up?”

“I just saw Elizabeth’s statement,” his sister said. “Have you called her, or are you foxholing?”

“Sort of the latter,” Darcy mumbled.

Georgiana groaned in frustration. “You left her twisting in the wind? She’s the best thing that ever happened to you. Call her. Call her now!”

Georgie was right. Darcy had never felt like this with any other woman. Elizabeth’s statement had signaled that she didn’t blame him for the fiasco. Maybe there was something to salvage.

“All right,” he sighed.

“Good,” Georgiana grunted and hung up.

Darcy stood, striding toward his desk. “I’m calling Elizabeth.”

Hilliard jumped to his feet. “But first we must organize our press strategy—well, re-organize it.”

Darcy waved his hand. “You can do it. I’ve got a phone call to make.”

“But—”

“Bob, line up some media training for her. I’ll pay for it. So she can prepare to speak with the press and go on talk shows if…needed.”

Hilliard scribbled in his notebook. “You mean, if she agrees to talk to you…”

Bing frowned and stroked his chin. “Darce, are you sure about this? Being seen with her will stir up more rumors and accusations—and make congressional hearings more likely.”

“Did you hear what she said?” Darcy gestured toward the television. “I’m not giving up hope without talking to her first.”

Bing leaned over the desk, getting right in Darcy’s face. “You could be setting yourself up for more heartbreak. And it’s not like you have a lot of time to devote to a relationship, with the big push for the renewable energy bill—”