Page 10 of A Searing Acquaintance
“A bit. Soups and stir-fry mostly. I prefer baking.”
He raised his eyebrows. “So you’re not a chef or a professional footballer. Um, may I ask what it is you do?”
“Marketing and public relations. For now, anyway. I’m just finishing my MFA at Columbia.”
“Really?”
“Hard to believe, hmm?” Elizabeth leveled an annoyed look at him.
“That’s not what I meant…”
“Did my undergrad at UM. That’s what my family could afford. I had a scholarship to play soccer, and I saved up for grad school.”
“You didn’t wish to go there? To Meryton?” He picked up a cracker and stared at it.
She watched him and started laughing. “What, are you phobic about all things orange?” She gestured to the orange cheddar on the plate.
Darcy flushed and smiled. “Um, no, actually.” He picked up a slice.
“Can you keep a secret? I despise orange,” she said solemnly. After coaxing another small smile from him, she continued, “I had some amazing professors at UM. I learned a lot. But I really wanted to leave town.”
He nodded. “But now you are in the city, working and studying. Full-time?”
“Best as I’m able.” She shifted her leg and decided to change the topic. He was staring at her far too intently.
“And you’re an Oxford man?”
“Um, no. Cambridge and Harvard.”
“Do you work with Charles?”
“No.”
She considered him. “Do you work?”
“Of course.”
Elizabeth sighed and stroked her chin dramatically. “Let’s see. You always wear black, you speak as little as possible, and you ask pointed questions. I’m guessing CIA, MI6, or, perhaps, cat burglar.”
He furrowed his brow and bit back a smile.
“Fine. Keep your secrets.” Elizabeth sipped her wine. “So, it’s Fitzwilliam, right? That’s an amazing name, you know. Which came first—the name or the accent?”
He looked at her.
“Oh, come on. It’s like the name of a subdivision or a sofa at Pottery Barn. ‘Please note the extra firm cushions on The Fitzwilliam.’”
Darcy chuckled.Wow, he can laugh?
“So, do you have extra-firm cushions? Do you carry extra padding?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Or are your springs sprung?”
“God, you are a loose cannon.”
“Yup. Always sinking ships.” Elizabeth drained her wine glass and burrowed down further into the sofa. “Seriously, though, are you a New Yorker or a Londoner?”
“I’ve been a New Yorker for the last five years but in the States for most of a decade. After I finished school, I came here to run some business interests.”
“Do tell.”
