Hiring Mr. Darcy - Valerie Bowman Page 0,86
there.”
“And marrying Harrison is part of the plan?” Jeremy asked.
“Yes.” I nodded, but I wanted to cry. Why, why, why couldn’t this whole thing be going the way it was supposed to go? Why had everything fallen apart?
Jeremy’s voice was quiet but firm. “All I know is if you were mine, I’d never choose a Megan Fox wannabe over you. I wouldn’t care what my boss said.”
That really made me want to cry. No one had ever said anything so nice to me before. Harrison was so perfect for me on paper. Why didn’t he say nice things like Jeremy did? “We’re planning a June wedding,” I breathed. “It’s all there, in the planner. If I change it, I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“Is your Future Husband Checklist there too?”
“Yes,” I admitted, feeling my nose turn red with shame. I’d told him about the FHC while drunk, hadn’t I?
“Can I see it?” Jeremy asked.
No one but myself and Ellie had ever seen the FHC. But since things were already crazy and bound to become crazier, I figured why not. I placed my wine glass on the table next to me, slid off the bed, and grabbed my planner from the desk. I climbed back into the bed, propped my back up with pillows against the wall, and set the planner on my bent knees. I flipped it open and turned to the page where I knew I’d find the list.
Jeremy propped himself up beside me and stared at the list. “Wow. You’re serious. You really do have a checklist?”
“My psychologist suggested it,” I said defensively.
“Can I see it?” he asked, reaching for the planner.
“Here, but no making fun of it. You’d probably find the right woman too if you had a similar list. Only yours would need to have ‘no current boyfriend or similar’ on it.”
Jeremy snorted. His eyes scanned the page and he mouthed the words as he read the list. He was mostly silent until he asked, “How many kids do you want?”
“Two,” I said with a sigh.
“A boy and a girl?” he asked.
“As long as they’re healthy, I don’t mind.”
Finally, he finished and flipped the planner closed and stared at me. “Look, Meg, I know you’ve got your whole life in this thing, but plans are made to be broken, and I’ve noticed yours are written in colored pencil. And you have a matching eraser.”
Chapter 26
Sunday
The grand ball was just beginning when Jeremy and I walked into the ballroom. The ball wasn’t held in the tents near the crescent. It was held in the most perfect of all places, the Upper Assembly Rooms at Bath, a place where Jane Austen herself had been. It was a grand venue that never failed to take my breath away with its columns and wainscoting and gorgeous alcove for the orchestra. Tonight, with the entire assemblage dressed in Regency period clothing, it actually felt as if we’d all managed to turn back the clock to arrive in 1813.
My ball gown was a silver concoction with a high waist and tiny embroidered flowers and swirls. I had a matching silver reticule and slippers. I’d managed to put up my hair in a chignon and actually thought I looked halfway decent.
Jeremy looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of the novel itself. His all-black evening attire, black boots, tight black breeches, and a black coat, blended with his silver waistcoat and white shirtfront and cravat, combined to set off his tan and his jade-green eyes. He was Regency McFox tonight. He looked better than I’d ever seen him. Oh, and he smelled good too. Like Irish Spring soap or something I wanted to sniff more. He towered over me as usual, and I had never been prouder than walking at his side into the ballroom.
I’d managed to avoid Harrison all day. Jeremy and I had actually spent the entire day exploring the town. We’d had tea at the Pump Room and gone on a tour of the Roman Baths for which the town had been named. I’d managed to forget about the stupid seven I’d caused us to receive in the talent competition, for a few hours at least. The only hope we had of winning tonight was if Harrison and Lacey messed up. It was a long shot, but it was possible. At the same time, Jeremy and I would need an overall ten for sure. Luckily, we’d done a lot of dancing in his woodshop.
“Ready?” Jeremy asked, squeezing my