Page 93 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
“I think it was very obvious to everyone what just happened.” Gran’s tone could dehydrate succulents.
New heat roared to her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to kiss him. It just … happened.”
Gran scoffed. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think he was just as embarrassed as you. I saw his vehicle leave five minutes ago.”
Her stomach fell. He’d gone? He was embarrassed? Had he become caught up in the moment and not meant to do that? Her chest tightened.
Gran sighed. “You need to be careful.”
“I know, I know. But …” She pasted on bravado. “It was just a kiss.”
“I know you, Olivia,” Gran said. “And I know you don’t kiss and tell. But I also suspect you don’t kiss unless it means something.”
“I can’t afford for it to mean something,” she mumbled.
“You want it to mean something?”
Surely a kiss did mean something. Gran was right. Liv had never been the kind of woman to not mean what a kiss said. And while she might not have had a lot of experience, with only a handful of kisses in the past, she’d still recognized in that moment that she’d wanted this to be real.
For the two of them to not simply be props for a calendar. To have Liam mean what his lips said. She also wished she hadn’t apologized with that stupid, clumsy line about not meaning it. Shehadmeant it. Had been glad to kiss him, to experience such dizzying heights of pleasure. To hear herself called beautiful, to feel appreciated, valued,seen.And while she had taken pleasure in that moment, had thoroughly enjoyed the heights of kissing him, she just hadn’t meant to do that so publicly. But how to say that to a man who had apparently left the premises was very hard. No way did she want to say that by leaving a message on his phone or via email. She’d have to hope he returned soon, and they could talk. Even if that conversation would be hard.
Oh well. If nothing else, he’d have to face her at the next team meeting.
September slipped into October, but the awkwardness of that now very public kiss refused to abate. Someone had posted a picture to Facebook, which had been shared to various Jane Austen sites and caused a rash of imitations. Which was good in some ways, such as the influx of more visitors to the Hall. And not so good in others.
Liam had barely talked to her since. Maybe he was embarrassed. He’d said he didn’t want his face seen, and while the angle of the viral photograph meant his features were somewhat obscured, hers weren’t. In fact, it hadn’t taken long before Liam was called to London again, and on his return he seemed even more to avoid her.
Which left Liv batting off conjecture from George, the volunteers (“I knew he had a thing for her!” squawked Valerie), and her family, who all followed the Hartbury Hall hashtags and had seen the kiss, leading to her mother’s demands to know who this Mr. Darcy-like man was. She’d fobbed her off as best she could—talk of him only being the gardener had a way of quietening her mother down—but so many questions remained. All except for Gran, who refused to speculate on it, which made Liv both grateful and yet wishing she had someone to talk it through with. Although, the more she thought about it, the best person to talk to was Liam himself. Which she might get the chance to do after the next committee meeting.
The first week of October passed, concluding with another meeting. They were held fortnightly now.
Anticipation thrummed at the things to discuss. The Regency Ball. Drew’s pictures for the calendar for the committee to vote on. Then the most important discussion—with Liam, about whatever that kiss had been. And what it might mean for the future.
For a second she allowed herself to dare dream of a future. Here, with Liam. Married, living on this beautiful estate but without the stress of owning it, working together for his great-uncle or whoever the real owner of Hartbury Hall was. Her mother would have kittens. Her dad and sisters would be pleased.
Her thoughts tumbled to Liam’s family. It still seemed strange that she knew so little about them. She guessed he must see his great-uncle at those trustee meetings. She shivered. Had Liam ever mentioned her to his great-uncle? What would he think of her?
George had sent a message, with a screenshot of that kiss and a “I knew it! You two are made for each other!” comment that had buoyed her spirits.
The fact that George approved meant a lot. But even so, what was the point of thinking about this when there had been no real conversation between them this week?
She gathered her papers, smiling as Drew and Cara, their special guests today, entered. She managed small talk until the others filed in. Gran was first, then Tobias, Marge, Tim. Patricia. No George—she was deep in the joys of learning about gastroenterology—then finally Liam. He didn’t look at her.
She hid her disappointment with effort. “Thanks for coming, everyone. Now I know we’re all busy, but I wanted to run over a few things now that we’re in the cooler season. We discussed closing the house another day, and only opening Thursday to Saturday. Do the visitor numbers still justify that, Veronica?”
“I think we’d be a little premature, considering the spike in visits in recent weeks.”
One guess what had caused that. Her cheeks heated. “Does anyone else have thoughts on that?”
No comments, which led to the decision to remain open on Wednesday, during October anyway.
Reports from the others followed. The apple picking was set for this weekend, the vegetable gardens were finally producing, and the firewood sales were going well too. Marge’s takings in the café were doing well, although she recommended the hours reduce in winter.
Liv wrote that down to amend the website.
“And now that we’re in autumn, we’ve got the house dressed in autumn colours for our harvest theme, which looks fantastic.”
“Are we doing a Halloween event?” Patricia asked.
