Page 102 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
“He’s certainly got a type, doesn’t he?” Camilla snarked, as a rotund man twice her age moved beside her.
“Ignore her,” George said. “She’s just jealous that you got the prince and she’s left with the frog.”
“George.”
“Don’t you think he looks a bit like an extremely well-fed toad?”
“Hey,” Liam murmured. “Don’t think about them. Let’s get this party started.”
“Then we’ll dance?”
He nodded. “Then we’ll dance.”
Holding Liv in his arms like this was like holding the last rose of summer. He didn’t want to move too fast and lose the precious delicacy of the moment. Grateful as he was for everyone’s hard work and money, in a way he wished nobody else was here. That it was just her, and him. Dancing alone under the chandelier, in this room he loved, with the woman he loved, that he still needed to admit that to. Which he would, tonight, as soon as everyone was gone.
She’d done so well, magnificently well, impressing even the likes of his mother’s best friend, Mrs. Wheaton-Smythe.
“She’s nothing like the young woman in jeans we encountered before,” his mother’s friend had whispered.
“She’s a treasure.” Someone who lit his world with gold.
The music reached its dying refrain, and he twirled Liv out then in, clasping her waist between his hands. She laughed, her eyes sparkling. “You’re a good dancer.”
That was because his two exes had ensured that he knew how to dance. He batted thoughts of them away. No. He wouldn’t think of the past. Only the future. A future with Liv. A future with life, hope, and all good things.
A phone’s ringtone shimmied through the room. Liv winced. “I put my phone on silent and thought others would do the same. A Taylor Swift ringtone is not exactly Regency appropriate, is it?”
He laughed, a sound that drew attention in the sudden silence. Heads swung to face them. People who knew him, knew his story, and many—like Magda Wheaton-Smythe—he suspected had thought he’d never laugh again. But that’s what Liv did. She’d brought life to his world. Hope to his heart. Joy to his lips.
Seeing all eyes were on him, he lifted her hand. “Three cheers for the woman who has made all this tonight possible. The woman who has transformed Hartbury Hall, and me. Miss Olivia Bennett.”
An enthusiastic “Hip hip hurrah!” led by George echoed off the aged stonework, as Liv blushed. He glanced around, encountering expressions ranging from approval to bemusement. Tobias, George and Ewen, Theo, Marge—where was Veronica?
“I just wanted to thank you all for coming tonight.” He pointed to the ceiling. “As you know, we needed to raise money to fix the Orangery roof, and we’re hopeful that our grant application will see success in the new year.”
He noticed Stella holding up five fingers to Liv, which drew Liv’s beam of delight. “What is it?”
She raised her chin and voice. “I’ve just been told our silent auction has raised another forty thousand pounds, so with the sale of the tickets that means we’ve raised at least fifty grand—not bad for one event. Congratulations, and a very big thank-you to everyone who participated and has contributed to tonight’s success. We couldn’t have done any of this without your generosity and support.”
His wonderings about how much Theo had personally donated were interrupted by Camilla’s loud sniff. “Never thought I’d see the day when a millionaire boasts about fifty grand.”
“Millionaire?” Liv turned to him.
He gestured for the musicians to resume and then drew Liv to a quieter corner, near the door to the walled garden.
“What are they talking about? You’re not a millionaire.”
“I certainly don’t have that much in cash.” But seeing this property was valued at many millions of pounds, he guessed that was what counted. She knew that, right?
Her brow wrinkled. “Are you saying you have other assets?”
“Yes.”
“Like what?”
“Why, the estate of course.”
“The estate?”
