“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 hat, rubbed a frustrated hand through his gorgeous hair and put the hat back on. “You belong with a guy like that, Meg. Maybe not Harrison himself, because he’s a dick, but someone like him.”
“No, Jeremy, I don’t. I belong with a guy who remembers I get car sick, who sticks up for me when someone else is being mean to me, and who encourages me to follow my dreams. I belong with you.”
His eyes widened. His Adam’s apple worked as he swallowed. “Did you tell Professor Plum that?”
“Professor Plum?”
“I overheard Mitchell’s nickname for him.” Jeremy grinned.
“Yes, I told Professor Plum all of that right before I broke up with him.”
“You broke up with him?” Jeremy’s face went blank.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He was so serious, so solemn. I knew the next words out of my mouth were going to be some of the most important words of my entire life.
“Because I’m in love with you,” I cried, swiping the hair and rain out of my eyes. “I might have been in love with you since I found out you were five minutes late to our first meeting because you rescued a dog, but I definitely was falling for you when you drove so carefully to the restaurant to make sure I didn’t get sick, and tonight I knew I loved you, because you would never tell me to quit when I was about to win. You’re way nicer than I am, and way cuter than I am, and way less of a tight-ass than I am, and I’m sure I don’t deserve you, but I love you, Jeremy, and I want the chance to prove to you that I can be worthy of you. I know I’ve been a snobby ass, but I swear I’ll make it up to you.”
“What about this thing?” Jeremy said, tapping a finger against the wet planner I was still clutching. “What about all your plans?”
I glanced around. Spotting a trash bin across the street, I grabbed up my skirts, ran over to it and tossed the planner inside. “There,” I hollered to him. “That thing’s gone. Plans are made to be broken, after all. I think I heard that somewhere once.” I crossed back over to him and stared him in the eye.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” Jeremy said, a semi-horrified look on his face.
“Yeah, well, I did.” I was breathing heavily from my exertion, but I’d never felt more exhilarated...and free. Truly free. “Now, this is the part where I’m hoping you say you love me too.”
Jeremy grinned and pulled me close. He pressed his forehead against mine. “I love you, Meg. I’ve loved you since high school when you were so confident and kinda mean, but nice to people like scrawny kids who couldn’t make a basket in gym class.”
“That’s why you remembered everything about me, isn’t it?” Tears pooled in my eyes and mixed with the rainwater as they ran down my cheeks.
“Uh-huh.” Jeremy lifted me in his arms and kissed me, and even though my hair was melting and my gown was ruined, and I was pretty sure my nose was about to start running, I kissed him back with everything I was worth.
Minutes later, when we pulled our lips apart and he tenderly set my feet back on the pavement, I sighed. “I guess we’re done with the competition?” I stared down at my ruined gown and ruined slippers.
“You’d actually give up? You’d quit the competition for me?” he asked.
My hair in my eyes, I nodded. “I’ve recently come to realize that winning isn’t everything.”
“Who says we’re out of it?” Jeremy asked.
“We’re soaked and two points behind,” I offered.
He grasped my hand and tugged me back toward the ball. “Where’s your fighting spirit, Doc? Let’s go beat Professor Plum!”
Chapter 27
Despite our dripping clothing, we raced back to the ballroom just as they were announcing our names for the third time (I found out later from Patsy) over the loudspeaker. “Dr. Knightley and Mr. Remington, if you do not present yourselves in the next five minutes, you will be disqualified,” Mrs. Cranberry’s pedantic nasally tone boomed across the ballroom.
“We’re here,” I yelled as soon as we made it through the door.
There was a collective gasp as those near us saw that we were dripping wet. Well, to be clear, they were gasping at me, not Jeremy. My hair felt like a melted wax candle clinging to the side of my head. Jeremy, of course, still looked perfect, only slicked with rain. He’d run his fingers through his hair and looked completely unaffected and better than ever. Mr. Darcy always looked hot when wet, didn’t he?
“Did Harrison and Lacey end up dancing?” I asked Patsy, who stood near the dance floor, her drink still in her hand.
“Yes,” she replied. “But they got into a big fight after and she stomped off.”
“What was their score?” I demanded.
“Harrison missed a step. They got a nine.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that news as Jeremy and I hurried across the floor to take our position in the center. We had one point to make up just to tie and my clothing was ruined. Oh well, I’d always liked a good challenge.
“We apologize for being late,” I said in the loudest voice I could muster. “We were just in the rain declaring our love for each other. In real life.”
“What?” came Mr. Periwinkle’s shocked voice over the loudspeaker.
“You heard me,” I said, winking toward the judges’ table.
Jeremy tried to fight his grin. His eyes sparkled like emeralds beneath his long, wet eyelashes. I wanted to kiss him again so badly.
“Miss Knightley,” he said, loud enough for those around us to hear. “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
“No, Mr. Remington, it is I whom you must allow to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
A collective, swoony sigh went up around the room. “That’s just how the whole thing should have happened in the first place,” I heard Lady Waverly-Jones say. She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes.
“Agreed,” said several people in her group in unison.
The waltz began and Jeremy led the way. It was perfect and neither of us missed a step. We stared into each other’s eyes the entire time. It was just like a dream...or the ending to a romance novel.
“If only I’d known how perfect you were in high school,” I whispered, gazing up into his handsome face.
“I wasn’t perfect in high school.”
“Neither was I.”
“Yes, you were. You were perfect for me. It only took me thirteen years to have the chance to convince you.”
I grinned at him. “I’m so glad I hired you, Mr. Darcy.”
“Likewise,” he replied.
Minutes later, when the waltz came to an end, he lifted me into his arms and kissed me. The entire crowd roared a cheer, and applause thundered across the ballroom.
We stopped and held hands, facing the judges’ table while Jeremy took an elegant bow and I did my best to curtsy in my sopping wet skirts. I shivered for what felt like five entire minutes until Mr. Periwinkle’s
voice boomed across the loudspeaker again. “It seems we have a unanimous vote from the judges, which I daresay has never happened in all my years of participating in similar events.”
Whispers floated through the crowd before a hush fell across the room.
Mr. Periwinkle’s voice broke the silence. “With a perfect score of ten, plus an extra point for such panache, Dr. Knightley and Mr. Remington, I’m pleased to announce that you are the winners of this year’s Jane Austen Festival and Games.”
The crowd roared again and Jeremy grabbed me, picked me up, spun me around, and kissed me again. “We did it, Doc,” he breathed against my lips.
“We did it!” I echoed, pressing my lips against his once more.
Chapter 28
A Monday morning in early October
It was a beautiful fall day in Milwaukee when I floated into Dr. Holmes office to tender my resignation. I had on a flowy, flowered maxi dress that I’d decided was one of my favorite things to wear, pot belly and all. No control-top panties needed, and pencil skirts could go to the devil. I’d discarded the half-ass diet too. I’d never been happier.
“Dr. Knightley,” he said with tight lips the moment he saw me. He set down his pen and stood. His Deerstalker hat was sitting on the corner of the desk next to him. I stared at it, wishing he had it on because that’s how I wanted to remember him.
His eyes narrowed on me. “I’ve never seen you without your day planner.”
“Dr. Holmes,” I replied brightly. “Would you believe I threw it away? And I don’t miss it.”
That news seemed to trouble him. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I believe congratulations are in order for your winning the competition.”
I held up a hand. “No congratulations are necessary. I’ve merely come to give you this.” I let the letter float to his desktop. I braced my palms on the edge of his desk.
“What’s this?” A frown wrinkled his face. He unfolded the letter and scanned the page. “Your resignation?” His brows shot up.
“That’s right.” My smile widened. I kinda wanted to do a little dance but I thought it might be slightly inappropriate. I’d dance later, on the way to the Jetta.
“But why?” He looked up at me with the hint of panic in his eyes.
“I was under the distinct impression that I wouldn’t be welcome here any longer if I didn’t allow Dr. Macomb and Lacey to win in England. They lost by one point, you know.” I couldn’t help but get that little dig in.
“I never said that!” Dr. Holmes grabbed at his lapels and coughed. “I never said you wouldn’t be welcome here.”
“You heavily implied it.” I stood up straight and crossed my arms over my chest. I wasn’t about to let Deerslayer get away with pretending he hadn’t threatened me. “Or did I misunderstand you?”
“Look, Dr. Knightley, you’re the winner, and that brings prestige upon our department.”
I cocked my head to the side. “What you mean is, Lacey Lewis pulled out of the Pride and Prejudice remake after she lost the competition, and they never ran the story about her in the Times.”
Dr. Homes cleared his throat again. “Well, perhaps, but—”
“Perhaps nothing, her quitting the movie has been in all the papers. You don’t care anymore because you aren’t impressed by her now that she’s left campus and is getting bad press.”
“You’re still Faculty at this college. And you won the competition.” His words were punctuated by more tugs on his lapels.
“Not anymore.” I nodded toward the letter. “Besides, there’s something else I plan to work on.”
“What’s that?” He leaned forward.
“I’m going to write a historical romance novel,” I said in as smug a tone as I could muster.
“What!” His cumulous eyebrows startled.
“You heard me. I already started writing it.” I let my arms fall to my sides and spun around in a highly inappropriate circle. “And I’m having the time of my life.”
He gasped. “Have you lost your mind?”
I turned back to him and narrowed my eyes on him, giving him the stankest of stink eyes. “No, actually. I’ve never felt more sane. Or happier. You see, Dr. Holmes, I am resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected to me.”
We both knew the lines from P&P that Lizzy had delivered to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and I’d delivered them perfectly without so much as a pause. Dr. Holmes’ throat worked as he swallowed.
He splayed his hands wide. “Dr. Knightley, be reasonable.”
“No. I don’t have to be reasonable. I don’t have to be reasonable or unemotional or un-dramatic. And you know what else? I can even be as hyperbolic as I want. In short, I don’t give a toss what you or anyone else thinks. Goodbye, Dr. Holmes.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder and turned to leave.
“Wait. Wait,” he called. “Write your novel. Do whatever you want. You can even take a sabbatical.”
I paused, turned back to face him and narrowed my eyes on him. “Really?”
“Yes, yes. Whatever you like.” He waved his hands in the air.
“How long of a sabbatical?” I drew out the word long.
“Three months?” He searched my face, obviously looking to see if that offer was sufficient.
“I want six,” I countered, tapping my sandal against the floor.
He nodded. “Certainly. Six it is.”
“And what about when I get back?” I crossed my arms over my chest again and regarded him down the length of my nose.
“What do you want?” He looked a bit frightened. I adored having the upper hand.
“Tenure,” I said simply.
His cheeks were mottled but he continued to nod. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’d intended to recommend you for it anyway.”
“Really?” I arched a brow.
He blew air into his cheeks. “Yes, of course, we’re quite proud of you here at Everton, Dr. Knightley. Not only did you win the competition, but you managed to teach a construction worker to be Mr. Darcy in a matter of days. It’s the talk of the Austen Society.”
I plucked the Deerstalker hat off his desk, spun it around on my finger once, and let it drop to the desktop. “He’s not a construction worker, not that there’s anything wrong with that. He’s a custom woodworker and he’s the best man I know. He also happens to be my boyfriend.” I grabbed the resignation letter off the desk and flounced toward the door. When I got to the threshold, I paused and glanced back over my shoulder. “I’ll be in touch with my plans for my sabbatical.”
“We want you to write an article...when you’re finished with your novel, of course,” Dr. Holmes called from behind his desk.
I turned around and blinked at him. “Oh, yeah? What about?”
* * *
One hour later, I pulled my Jetta to a stop in front of Jeremy’s house. He and Huckleberry came bounding down the porch stairs to greet me.
“How did it go?” Jeremy asked, a wary look on his face, as he pulled me into his arms to give me a big, warm hug.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him for all I was worth. I also sniffed his neck a little. Now that he was my boyfriend, neck-sniffing was allowed. “Better than expected.” I pulled away from him and grasped his hand.
“Really?” His brows lifted.
“Yep.” I nodded, but I couldn’t contain my smile. We walked together toward the house while I recounted my meeting with Dr. Holmes.
“So that’s it?” he said, grinning back at me. “Tenure and a sabbatical?”
“Uh-huh,” I bit my lip, still smiling.
“That and the trophy we brought back from Bath, and I’d say your autumn is really looking up, Doc.”
“I agree,” I said, pausing to wrap my arms around his neck again. It wasn’t easy for me to stop touching him. “Now kiss me, please.”
He kissed me, right there in
his front yard. PDA be damned.
When he pulled away from me a few minutes later, we continued into the house together. Once we’d made it through the front door, he paused. “There’s only one more thing that would make this moment even better.”
“I thought you said you already ordered your new band saw?”
Jeremy snorted. “Not that. Though it’s gonna be sweet.”
“What, then?”
“Remember you agreed that if we won, you’d owe me a favor?”
I knew I must’ve looked like a deer trapped in headlights. “Actually, I totally forgot about that. What favor do you want? Did you buy a chinchilla?” I glanced around as if the animal would suddenly hop out. Did chinchillas hop? I had no idea.
Jeremy pulled a small, black, velvet box from his pocket and dropped to one knee in the middle of his living room. “My affections and wishes are unchanged, since high school, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever. Margaret Violet Knightley, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Had there ever been a more romantic proposal? He’d even managed to toss in a little bit of Mr. Darcy’s quote from the book. Tears filled my eyes. I let them drop, reveling in the happiness that had caused them. Silently, I nodded.
“Before you say anything,” Jeremy continued, “I’d just like to point out that I meet all the criteria on your Future Husband Checklist, too. Well, all but one.”
“I don’t give a damn about the Future Husband Checklist anymore, Jeremy,” I said, still crying. He stood and I hugged him. “I threw that stupid thing away.”
“But don’t you want to know which one I missed?”
“Fine,” I sniffed. “Which one?”
“The never-plays-cards-recreationally one. I still want to try to beat your brother out of pizza every once in a while, when we visit him in Nashville.” It turned out Luke had returned from his trip with good news, too. He and his band had been signed by a big agent in Nashville and their recordings were being shopped around Music City. According to his agent, they had an excellent shot at scoring a record deal. He was planning to move there the first chance he got.
Hiring Mr. Darcy Page 23
