The only other alternative was for us to share the queen, and while I was willing to share, that would be a little too intimate. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing at the thought of me snuggled up to Jeremy’s side, spooning him accidentally. The man would accuse me of sexual harassment before this job was over, I was sure of it. If my outlandish ogling of him with Mitchell hadn’t done it, my spooning him in bed would be certain to. Yes, it was much better that I stay on the tiny couch.
I’d hoisted my giant suitcase filled with all my costumes into the corner between the couch and the window. I’d rolled Jeremy’s much less huge, but similarly-filled-with-costumes suitcase over between the wall and the queen-sized bed to make it clear that he would be staying there. I rumpled the sheets on the pull-out and tossed the pillows around more to make it obvious that I’d staked my claim. Jeremy was going to have to fight me for it.
I glanced at the clock. It was nearly nine p.m. England-time. Of course, in England, they called that twenty-one hundred. I knew it made more sense that way, but it always just seemed like a math equation to me. I stretched and looked around. I was refreshed from the sleep, but really hungry. I took a quick, hot shower, hoping Jeremy wouldn’t come back to the room while I was naked. There wasn’t much space to dress in the tiny bathroom. Thankfully, I was able to shower in privacy.
Afterward, I ran a comb through my wet hair and tossed on some black yoga pants and a T-shirt. I needed to find Jeremy and food, hopefully in that order. What had he been up to all this time? Had he met the zany cast of characters I knew from the online forum and from attending the festival last year? Oh, God, I hoped Patsy hadn’t said anything inappropriate/bordering on sexual harassment to him. If anyone was going to do that, it was the perpetually drunk proprietor of the hotel. The woman had a heart of gold and the mouth of a sailor.
I slung on some flats and padded down the hallway to the lift. I loved using English words for things while I was in the country. The lift was tiny too and had brass fixtures. I took it downstairs. It let me out into the lobby. There were several customers lounging about but none of them were Jeremy. Thankfully none of them were Harrison or Lacey, either.
I made my way over to the parlor, which was attached to the lobby. It was a large room where tea and snacks were served throughout the day. Quintessentially English, there were wing-back chairs near a fireplace, and several sets of wooden chairs and tables lined up in smart little cozy arrangements throughout. Most of the seats were filled, one of them by Jeremy, who sat next to two ladies I immediately recognized as the American grad students from our online Austen forum. They were best friends and Ph.D. candidates, and I’d long referred to them as The Sense and Sensibility sisters. Their real names were Karen and Suzanne, but of course I called them Marianne and Elinor. They wore bonnets, one pink, one blue, with Regency gowns, and their hair was up in the back and twisted into tight ringlets along their foreheads just like it was 1813. They were laughing uproariously at something Jeremy had said. For a moment I had the awful feeling that I was interrupting them, but then Jeremy glanced up and saw me. He immediately stood.
“Hi there, Meg. Did you get some rest?” His bright smile was reassuring. Somehow, he always had the ability to make me feel better just by his presence.
“Ye...yes,” I answered sheepishly, pushing up my glasses and rubbing at one of my eyes.
“Oh, Dr. Knightley,” Marianne said, clapping her hands together. “Is that you? I didn’t recognize you in yoga pants.”
“Yes, it’s me. Hi Mari—I mean, Suzanne,” I said.
Karen/Elinor and I exchanged pleasantries as well and then Marianne said, “Mr. Remington here was just telling us an amusing story about your tailor who behaves as if he’s southern.”
“Yep,” I replied with a smile. “Mitchell’s quite a character.”
“The woman who made our costumes isn’t half as delightful-sounding as Mitchell. She barely said two words to us each time we came for a fitting,” Elinor said.
“It’s true,” Marianne replied with a sigh. “But she did make some lovely gowns.”
“You both look wonderful,” I said, nodding toward their gowns. It was true. Their gowns (one pink, one white) were gorgeous. I began to worry about the quality of my own wardrobe. If Marianne and Elinor were dressed to the nines, how good would Mary and Nigel (two stiff competitors) look? “So, Jeremy, would you like to get some dinner?” I continued, hoping Marianne and Elinor would get the hint that we wanted to leave. Only I didn’t know that Jeremy did want to leave with me. I was only hoping about that part too.
“Oh, yeah, great,” he said, pushing in the chair he’d just vacated.
He was telling Marianne and Elinor how nice it was to meet them, when the doors to the parlor opened and in walked Mary and Nigel. Mary and Nigel were a married couple from London who Harrison and I secretly joked must have been related to the Austens, they were so into the Austen Society and Bath. They spent half of their year here. We also joked that they didn’t own any clothing from the current century. We’d never seen them in any, at least. Just like the press’s tendency to give one name to famous power couples, Harrison and I had named Mary and Nigel, Migel. Of course, we didn’t call them that to their faces, but Jeremy was about to meet our biggest competition next to Harrison and Lacey.
“Dr. Knightley,” Mary said in her perfect, upper crust, old English accent. Her thin eyebrows raised so high they formed tight lines over her eyes. Her perceptive gaze swept the room. “Wherever is Dr. Macomb?”
“Harrison and I decided to split up,” I blurted. “For the competition I mean, not as a couple.” I hadn’t been on the forums in the last two weeks. I’d been too busy planning everything and teaching Jeremy. Plus, if the truth be told, I didn’t want to have to admit to my computer friends that my boyfriend had dumped me for another partner. I had vaguely wondered if Harrison had gone on the forums and told everyone that Lacey Lewis was coming and would be his partner. But the look of surprise on Migel’s faces made me think he hadn’t. It was clearly news to them.
“Ooh,” Marianne said from her seat. “Does that mean you and Mr. Remington aren’t together? As a couple, I mean.”
I frowned at Marianne’s question but said “No!” a bit too emphatically. “I mean, I’m still with Dr. Macomb.”
“I thought you said you were sharing a room,” Elinor said to Jeremy.
“We are,” I blurted again. Why was I explaining myself to these people? And why was I suddenly feeling jealous that Marianne and Elinor, who were both single, were going to make a move on Jeremy? That would be awkward, coming back to our shared hotel room with...what, a sock on the doorknob to tell me that he was entertaining in there? I suddenly wished I’d taken the bed.
“There was a mix-up with the rooms,” Jeremy clarified. “We only got one.”
“So, the two of you are sharing a room?” Mary asked, her eyebrows still totally judging me.
“Yes, Jeremy and I are sharing a room.” I said this far too loudly and exactly at the moment that Harrison and Lacey strode through the doors.
“Frick,” I mumbled under my breath.
Harrison stopped next to us. “You’re what?”
“I think she said they’re sharing a room,” Lacey said, folding her arms across her chest and smiling at me tightly. She had on a giant hat and her manicure had changed to a soft pink color. Still, it was anachronistic. Surely Harrison would have told her that. No doubt she’d insisted upon keeping it.
“Yes.” I nodded. “We are. There was a mix-up. No more rooms available.”
“You can share my room with me,” Harrison offered. “Lacey’s got her own room.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Lacey said in a stage whisper to Harrison. “She is the competition.”
“She’s my girlfriend,” he replied.
“Yes, and the competition,” Lacey insisted.
“No, it’s fine,” I rushed to say, wondering why Harrison
didn’t realize that I wasn’t about to jump to share a room with him after he’d told me I was making a bad decision by coming here. “We have a bed and a couch. Plenty of room. Besides,” I said for everyone else’s benefit, “Jeremy and I have known each other since we were children.” As if that would make us sharing a room less problematic.
Just like her namesake in the book she recited from, Marianne looked as though she might actually swoon. She stood, leaned toward Jeremy, and sighed. “I must say I’m glad to hear that.”
He opened his mouth to reply when the doors to the parlor busted open for a third time and paparazzi rushed in to surround Lacey. Lacey pulled her big hat over her face and turned away, while the hotel security guards hurried in to get rid of the press. Harrison hustled Lacey out of the room. They were both led to safety through a side door by one of the security guards.
I decided to use the commotion to get out of there. “Well, we’re off to have dinner, see you later,” I said to Marianne, Elinor, and Migel as I tugged Jeremy’s hand, and we slid out the parlor doors on either side of the paparazzi. We made it into the lobby and outside in a matter of moments and moved to the side to get out of the melee.
“Let’s go.” I motioned to Jeremy. “I know a really good little Italian place not far from here that’s probably still open.”
An hour later, I was full of pasta and regrets. Pasta was never a good choice when dealing with a pot belly. Clearly my half-ass diet was still in full swing. “Thanks for letting me sleep,” I said to Jeremy.
“Did you get enough rest?” he asked, running a hand through his dark hair and mussing it just enough to make it look even hotter than it normally did.
“Yep.” I pushed my glasses up my nose. “I feel much better. I took the couch, by the way, and now you can’t have it back. I slept on it before I took a shower.”
He sighed. “You didn’t need to do that, Meg.”
I waved a hand in the air. “You’ll just need to give me a heads-up if you’re going to bring Elinor or Marianne back to the room one night.” I’d tried to sound breezy and nonchalant.
He frowned. “Who are Elinor and Marianne?”
“Oh, sorry. I mean Karen and Suzanne.” Our waiter came to bring us more water.
“They recite from Sense and Sensibility, eh?” Jeremy asked.
I lifted my water glass to my lips, reminding myself that it was always wise to drink as much water as possible while traveling. “Yeah. Harrison and I call them Elinor and Marianne.”
Jeremy drank water too. “I hate to ask what you call Mary and Nigel.”
“Migel.” I winced.
Jeremy laughed. “Anyone else I should be on the lookout for?”
“Well, there’s Patsy and Mr. Periwinkle, and the other judges are their own sets of interesting.”
“How do you know who the judges are?” Jeremy asked.
“They announced their name on the online forum. It’s people who’ve been really into the Austen Society for a number of years. We all know each other.”
Jeremy leaned back in his seat. “How do they feel about all these Americans coming over here and horning in on their author?”
“They appreciate anyone who appreciates Austen,” I replied. “Though I’m sure they won’t like it if Americans win.”
“Are all the judges English?”
I shrugged. “Most of them. But there are a couple of Yanks on the panel.”
“So, besides the good doctor and the actress, our biggest competition is Migel, huh?”
“Yep. I’m pretty sure they think it truly is 1813.”
Jeremy allowed me to pay the check this time, which I appreciated. We were here for work. It would keep things much clearer. I had just finished signing the bill when he stood and helped me out of my chair, which I also had grown to appreciate. “What next?”
“We need to unpack all the clothing and borrow a steamer. I called ahead and the hotel has one. I already reserved it for the night.”
Jeremy looked impressed. “How did you manage that?”
“Charm.” I smiled and batted my eyelashes. “And the fact that I made friends with Patsy, the hotel manager, last year.”
He smiled at me and shook his head. “What’s the first event?”
“Cards, tomorrow afternoon.”
Jeremy cocked his head to the side. “I’m ready to win.”
Chapter 21
Thursday
The woman who ran the hotel was a perpetually drunk, formerly blonde woman who reminded me of Patsy from Absolutely Fabulous. Her name also happened to be Patsy, so it was a win/win. Her hair was up in a messy beehive. She wore too much makeup for her wrinkle-level and she smelled like booze. I liked her a lot. She knew the gossip about everyone and was always willing to share. My discussion with her the next morning served a two-fold purpose: the disbursing of information and the gathering of different information.
Over breakfast (scones and a coffee for me, a Bloody Mary for Patsy) I told her all about how Lacey and Harrison were only together for the publicity, how Harrison and I still planned to become engaged by the holidays, and how Jeremy and I were just friends. Yes, Jeremy was single.
“Marianne and Elinor wanted to know,” Patsy said with a slow wink, displaying an eyelid full of bright blue eye shadow.
“I know,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
“What happens if you win?” Patsy asked, pushing her celery stalk around her glass.
“I don’t know, I get fired, I guess.” I didn’t want to talk about that possibility, ever since Ellie had pointed out that it didn’t make sense for me to defy my boss. I’d spent far too much time examining my newfound rebellious streak. I’d decided I’d take a page from Mitchell’s Southern book and think about that tomorrow, a la Scarlett O’Hara. Besides, having imparted the news I’d intended to, it was now time to collect the info I was looking for from Patsy.
“How are Mary and Nigel this year?” I asked, picking at my scone. On the surface it seemed like an innocuous question, perhaps about their health, but Patsy and I both knew that such a vague question opened the floor for her to tell me anything and everything she knew about Nigel and Mary’s chances this year.
“Nigel’s been favoring his right knee,” Patsy said, taking a swig of her drink.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I lied. “And Mary?”
“Tells me she memorized an entire chapter for the acting portion.”
“No!” Damn that Mary. Sounded like she had the same strategy Jeremy and I had. More being better. “Didn’t happen to mention which chapter, did she?”
“She did not. They seem as sharp at whist as ever,” Patsy added, bobbing the celery stalk up and down in her glass. “Saw them playing Marianne and Elinor last night for fun.”
Whist was Migel’s strongest skill. I swear they played it every night in real life. Jeremy was a decent card player, but Luke usually beat him. Had the night we’d played whist with Ellie and Luke and won merely been a fluke? I bit my lip. We’d have to really make up points in acting and dancing and costume if Nigel and Mary beat us at whist.
“So, what’s the real story between you and Mr. Remington?” Patsy asked, sipping on her Bloody Mary.
“I told you, we’re old friends.”
“Just friends, eh?” Patsy asked in as skeptical a voice as I’d ever heard.
“Yes.” I blinked.
She sighed and gave me another slow wink. “That’s a shame, darling.”
* * *
That afternoon at precisely thirteen hundred, I met Jeremy at the back door off the parlor that led out to the crescent, where the tents for the competition were set up. The whist tent had been arranged with multiple tables of four. The judges would walk around and monitor the play.
I wore a light pink gown with a high waist and matching reticule and my white slippers. In addition to his black boots, Jeremy had on his tight, buff-colored breeches and a chocolate-brown overcoat with a matching cream waistcoat, a white sh
irt and cravat.
We settled into our assigned seat. I glanced about uneasily. Luckily, I hadn’t seen Harrison and Lacey yet today. I’d thought about it a lot last night and decided that my strategy would be to pretend that Harrison wasn’t my boyfriend while we were in England. Here he was only a man I was competing against. When we got back to the States, we could argue about who did what. For now, I was merely focused on winning.
Whist was tense. Jeremy and I solidly beat our lower-round competitors, a brother and sister team from Northumbria, a couple from Devon, and two actual sisters from the US.
I was beginning to feel confident until we entered the final round and were paired with Migel. Dang it. Why couldn’t Harrison and Lacey have been paired with Migel? Lacey and Harrison were on the far end of the tent, playing a completely different set of competitors. Given the number of people participating, we couldn’t all play each other. The scores would be based on points for the overall competition.
“Stay calm,” I whispered to Jeremy as we approached the table where Migel had already staked a claim.
“I am calm,” Jeremy whispered back.
“They’re good, but we’re decent. We’re not totally out of this.”
“Aye, aye,” Jeremy replied with a grin. “We’ve got this.” Once again, he made my anxiety level ease just by his presence. I slid into my chair across from him. He waited until I was seated to sit too. We exchanged pleasantries with Nigel and Mary, but were careful to keep everything very professional. No fraternizing with the enemy.
The play began, and after an hour we were tied neck and neck. We played two more rounds that went about the same. Finally, Jeremy shuffled the cards and Mary opened with a queen of clubs. I eyed Jeremy over my hand before playing a nine of clubs. Nigel tossed down the four of clubs and Jeremy threw the two on the pile. Next, Mary played the king. Damn it. Did they have the whole royal flush? I tossed down the three. Nigel threw in the five and Jeremy threw in the ten. Mary’s eyes narrowed. She tossed down the eight. I winged the six onto the pile and Nigel had the seven. Jeremy smiled. My gaze met his.
Hiring Mr. Darcy Page 17
