Hiring Mr. Darcy - Valerie Bowman Page 0,89

him a bit ago when he came outside for some air. I nearly choked on my throat lozenge when I saw him all done up in his finery. Most handsome bloke I’ve ever seen.”

“Yes, he’s extremely good-looking,” I nearly growled. “Please tell me what he said.”

“Seriously,” Patsy continued. “I’ve seen my fair share of these re-enactors over the years. But that young man is the first one I’ve seriously wanted to shag.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and counted to three. No good could come of shrieking at Patsy, no matter how much I wanted to.

“Not that he’d take me up on the offer, mind you,” the older woman added. “He’s madly in love with someone else.”

My stomach did a somersault. Oh, God. Had Jeremy told Patsy who he was pining for? “Who?” I blurted, not caring if it had been a private conversation. She shouldn’t have brought it up if she didn’t want me to ask questions.

Patsy stirred her drink with the little straw in it. Then she pointed straight at me. “You, Dr. Knightley. He’s loved you since he was fifteen.”

“What?” The air sucked from my lungs and I nearly crumpled to the ground. Letting my skirts drop, I pressed my hand to the cold stone side of the building to hold myself upright. “What?” My brain throbbed with the news.

“Yep.” She slowly shook her head back and forth. “The lad’s got it bad for you. Told me himself.”

“For me?” I pointed at myself this time, my heart pounding. Had the world gone mad? “You must be joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about something as important as true love,” Patsy replied. “Besides, you would’ve noticed it yourself if you didn’t always have your nose in that damn planner.” She pointed to the planner with disgust. “You’re so busy planning everything that you didn’t even notice the most handsome bloke in the whole place has the hots for you. I told him you’re a clever one, but sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of your face.”

I gulped and swallowed and made the weird strangled-cat sound.

“I tried to convince him that he should tell you how he feels,” Patsy continued, “but he said you already had your mind made up and your life planned out. Plus, he said you were going to marry Dr. Macomb and telling you how he felt would be unfair to you.”

Oh, my God. It was all true. The truth and the fact that I’d had my head up my ass about it this whole time hit me like a stack of term papers dropped on my head. “Which way did Jeremy go?”

She shrugged. “If I was guessing, I’d say toward the train station.”

I spun around. The train station was too far to walk. He’d be looking for a taxi. I had to find him fast.

I believe I’ve previously mentioned the universe’s penchant for creating dramatic moments in my life. I picked up my skirts and turned my back on Patsy and ran out into the rain, down the cobbled streets and around the side of the building in the general direction of the train station. The rain made my chignon fall over like the melted top of a wedding cake.

“Jeremy!” I shouted, finally seeing his dark figure far ahead of me, a silhouette against the streetlights. He stopped and turned toward me. He looked so handsome, so heartbreakingly handsome in his boots and skin-tight breeches and cravat.

He waited for me to catch up with him. I ran into his embrace, and wrapped my arms—planner and all—around his neck, and kissed him for all I was worth.

He pulled away almost immediately. “What are you doing, Meg?” Rainwater streamed over the brim of his hat.

“I’m...” What was I doing? “We still have our dance,” I breathed. “The waltz.”

The streetlights highlighted the confused expression on his face. “I saw you talking to Harrison. I thought you were quitting the competition and getting engaged.”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, yes, he proposed, but I didn’t accept, and I’m definitely not quitting the competition. Have you met me?”

Jeremy still didn’t look entirely convinced. “Didn’t Harrison explain his kiss with Lacey?”

All I could do was nod. “Yes.”

“And you believed him, that it was innocent?”

“Actually, yes,” I said, smiling.

Jeremy eyed me with undiluted skepticism. “And he proposed?”

“Uh-huh.” I could not stop nodding like a fool.

“And he’s a big important history professor and knows what words like ‘reticule’ mean?”

“So what?” I searched his face, loving every line, every pore.

Jeremy swept off his