by Teri Wilson
She was ashamed that she didn’t know the details of her sister’s engagement. Jenna was her big sister, her closest friend. The two of them should be staying up late, whispering in the dark about all of it—how Henry had asked her, if it had taken her by surprise. She didn’t even know if Henry had gone down on one knee, as Donovan had done.
Elizabeth glanced at the ring again, swallowed hard and looked back up at Jenna. “But I can’t. The Earl’s Court Annual Dog Show is Saturday, and I promised Sue I’d show the Borders. Bliss is entered. I can’t miss it.”
“Then we’ll leave late Saturday night.” Jenna beamed. “I’m anxious to get back to the States. I want to tell the family about Henry, but I can’t do it over the phone. It’s really the sort of thing I need to tell Mom and Dad in person. This is perfect! Can you believe it? You’ve got your job back. This is such great news. Everything you’ve wanted for such a long time. Now you can truly put Grant Markham behind you. For good.”
Elizabeth stared at her for a moment, still too shocked to absorb it all until she saw a flicker of worry pass through Jenna’s gaze. That was all it took to gather herself together, at least enough to respond. “Of course. The best news.”
Jenna smiled. “See, everything’s going to be okay. You’re going home.”
Home.
Elizabeth allowed herself to be congratulated and wrapped in another hug. She made every effort to smile, nod and say all the right things.
Home. I’m going home, she told herself with bittersweet conviction.
At last.
But deep inside, she feared she no longer knew where home was anymore.
* * *
Plans were made.
Airplane tickets were purchased.
The lease on Elizabeth’s old apartment was renegotiated.
Everything was falling into place. She was on the verge of having everything she’d wanted all along.
Then why do I feel as though I’ve lost everything all over again?
The arrangements had been made with such military-like efficiency on Jenna’s part that Elizabeth felt as though her sister were trying to usher her out of the country before the realization could set in that her heart had been broken.
Too late, Elizabeth mused as she exited the Stratford tube station, feeling more like a spy on a secret mission than an out-of-work teacher headed for a job interview. Although, she was no longer technically out of work. Her job at the Barclay School was ready and waiting for her. And if she boarded the plane in three days as scheduled, her old life would no longer be a distant memory. Once again, she and Bliss would be at home in their tiny Manhattan apartment. London, South Kensington, her shaggy quartet of Border terriers, Hyde Park, Harrods—and most of all, Donovan Darcy—would be part of her past. She could go about her life again and forget that she was once a dog nanny, or that she’d eaten orange cake in the exact spot where Queen Victoria had grown up.
The trouble was, she didn’t want to forget. Ever.
The unexpected letter from the Barclay School, along with her imminent departure, had awakened her to a most inconvenient truth—she didn’t want to leave London. She felt at home here. More at home than she’d ever felt at Scott Bridal or the Barclay School.
She was well aware of just how crazy that sounded. For weeks now, she’d been fighting against so many conflicting feelings about her surroundings. The gorgeous dog-show grounds at Ashwyn House, Sue and Alan’s upscale neighborhood, the Orangery. Even Chadwicke. She’d been prepared to despise all of it, and yet...
She’d come alive here and hadn’t even realized it until she’d thrown it all away.
Enough of that.
She may have lost Donovan, but that didn’t mean she had to lose England. She would never be mistress of Chadwicke, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t call herself a Londoner. She just had to find a way to make London hers.
Step one was finding a teaching job. She loved teaching. Sure, the Barrows would probably be happy to let her nanny their Border terriers until their muzzles turned gray with age. But Elizabeth couldn’t let her experience with Grant Markham keep her out of the classroom. Even in London. Hadn’t there been enough casualties from that phase of her life?
Even so, she’d kept her first interview for a teaching position in London a secret. She’d deal with trying to explain herself to Sue, Jenna and the rest of her family if and when she got the job. In the meantime, she had a copy of the letter from the Barclay School in the once-controversial Prada handbag. Right next to her résumé.
She looked around at the colorful graffiti that covered most of the surrounding townhomes and smiled. She was far from South Kensington, far from Chadwicke, but she was still in London. And she felt comfortable on these streets, perhaps even more so than when she walked the dogs on the sanitized, well-kept sidewalks of Sumner Place.
The school secretary at the secondary school in Newham appeared far happier to see her than Mrs. Whitestone ever had at the Barclay School. She welcomed Elizabeth with a warm smile and a cup of tea before leading her into the headmaster’s office.
The headmaster, a Dr. Grant, seemed far younger than Ed. Good. Perhaps she could avoid giving this one near heart failure. “Ah, Elizabeth Scott. From the prestigious Barclay School in America. We’re pleased to have you.”
She juggled her teacup in one hand and shook Dr. Grant’s huge hand with her other. “Thank you very much.”
He waved toward an empty chair on the opposite side of a desk piled high with folders, books and papers. “Have a seat. Please. And tell me how you’ve come to find yourself on this side of the pond.”
Elizabeth swallowed. She’d known this question was coming. She’d even rehearsed a rather vague, nonspecific answer during her ride on the tube. Somehow, though, her carefully planned words were failing her.
“Um.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I was given four weeks’ leave. One of my students earned a failing grade, which meant he would miss an important sporting event. When I refused to pass him without merit, it caused quite a scandal.”
“Not surprising.” Dr. Grant shook his head. He didn’t look the least bit fazed. Why had she allowed the Markham mess to loom so huge in her mind? If she’d simply told Donovan about it up front, could all the pain and heartbreak have been avoided?
Maybe.
Probably.
Her heart ached with fresh hurt. A month ago, she wouldn’t have believed it, but it seemed that Donovan Darcy was far more difficult to forget than Grant Markham. Impossible, in fact. “My position has been reinstated, but I’ve grown quite fond of London. I have a letter from the school absolving me of any wrongdoing if you’d like to see it.” She reached for her handbag.
“Not necessary. Problems like that are all too common in certain circles, I’m afraid. You won’t find that kind of trouble here. We have the opposite situation—under-involved parents rather than control freaks. Truancy and the like. I’ve worked in all sorts of schools, and it’s been my experience that everyone has issues—the haves, the have-nots and everyone in between. There’s always something. Do you suppose that means we’re not all that different after all?” Dr. Grant eyed her from across the cluttered expanse of his desk.
We’re not all that different after all.
She’d thought she was so righteously above it all—money, status, the trappings of wealth. Had Donovan been right when he’d called her a snob? She’d thought the fact that she was poor somehow made her more honorable. But being honorable had nothing to do with a person’s bank balance.
Did it?
Elizabeth nodded. “I believe you may be right, sir.”
* * *
Elizabeth clicked off her cell phone and slid into her chair at the breakfast table on what was scheduled to be her final morning in London. She and Sue were to show the dogs in th
e afternoon, and by midnight she was to be on a flight bound for the States. By Monday, the Barclay School would expect her back in the classroom.
But she’d just received the phone call she’d been anticipating for two days. Finally. She’d gotten the job in Newham. She was a real Londoner.
“I have news.” Elizabeth stirred sugar into her teacup. She was so excited about her announcement that her hands were shaking.
Jenna and Sue looked up from their breakfasts and exchanged glances.
“Oh?” Jenna asked.
“What is it, dear?” Sue’s expression was a little too bright. She probably thought Elizabeth’s news had something to do with Donovan Darcy.
It was best to put a stop to that assumption right up front. “I was just offered a teaching job here. In London. I’m staying.”
“Really? Are you sure that’s what you want? I mean, I’m delighted. Of course I want you to stay.” Jenna’s gaze flitted to her engagement ring. “But are you sure?”
“What about Mr. Darcy? Does he know?” Sue leaned forward. There was that look again. Everything about her countenance rang with unfettered hope.
“Yes, I’m sure. And no, Donovan doesn’t know.” And then she muttered under her breath, “Not that he would care.”
“Nonsense. Of course he’d care.” Sue spread her toast with a thick layer of orange marmalade.
Elizabeth suppressed a snort. “I assure you he hasn’t lost a moment’s thought to what I’m doing these days.”
Ever the diplomat, Jenna chimed in. “This is wonderful, Lizzy. I was a bit worried about getting lonely over here by myself.”
“By yourself? What about Henry?” Elizabeth winked.
“How do you suppose your family will feel about the two of you moving to England? Won’t your mother miss you?” Sue asked.
How would her mother feel about Jenna marrying a well-heeled British barrister? Sue would likely hear their mother’s squeals of ecstasy from all the way across the pond.
“I imagine they’ll miss us. And I’ll need to find someone to take over my job at Scott Bridal. But I’m sure our family will be very excited about the wedding, particularly our mother.”
Jenna and Elizabeth exchanged glances. And snickers. If the thought of the wedding itself filled Elizabeth with panic, seeing Donovan...in a church...wearing a tuxedo, so be it. She would simply learn to grin and bear it, for her sister’s sake.
“Jenna’s right. Our mother will be beside herself with excitement,” Elizabeth said.
“That’s good to hear. And Mr. Robson is such a fine young man. When your family finally gets a chance to meet him, I’m sure they’ll be delighted.” Sue flicked open her newspaper and spread it out on the table.
Elizabeth glanced at the Daily Mail and frowned. She’d given up on gossipy newspapers and magazines of late. It might be weeks before she’d even care if Jennifer Aniston was pregnant with triplets. If ever.
“Mr. Robson? You mean Henry?” Jenna winked and sipped from her enormous paper cup from Starbucks. The reappearance of her ubiquitous Starbucks cup was a sure sign Jenna mentally had one foot back in the States already.
“Yes, Henry.” Sue made a face, as if she were uncomfortable referring to him by his first name. “Has Henry said anything about Mr. Darcy? I can’t help but think he’ll return before long.”
Not again.
Sue aimed a cautious-looking glance at Elizabeth. “Perhaps you two could get reacquainted?”
Much to Elizabeth’s chagrin, the sound of Donovan’s name stung. Get over it. Get over him. You have a brand-new life. Be happy.
“That’s not going to happen,” she said a bit more sternly than she intended. “Sorry. But I can’t put my life on hold and wait around here for Donovan to return. No one knows where he is, not even Henry. Right, Jenna?”
“Right,” Jenna answered quietly. “He doesn’t know where Donovan is or when he’ll be coming back. Henry is actually quite upset about his mysterious disappearance.”
“It is rather odd.” Sue sighed and went back to turning pages. “Elizabeth, dear, you may not be my dog nanny any longer, but you must stay here. That bedroom is yours for as long as you wish.”
Elizabeth reached for one of her hands and squeezed it tightly. “Thank you, but I’m paying rent this time.”
Sue acted as though she didn’t hear, which seemed strange. Elizabeth had been prepared for an argument where the rent was concerned. But Sue’s unwavering gaze was suddenly fixed on her newspaper with great intensity.
“Jenna, tell Henry he no longer needs to worry about Mr. Darcy’s whereabouts.” Sue paused. “I know where he’s been. And I know where he is right now.”
“What?” Jenna sat forward in her chair.
Elizabeth’s heart leaped to her throat.
She told herself to calm down. Donovan Darcy was no longer any of her concern. In fact, she didn’t even want to have this conversation. She would simply push her chair away from the table and walk away.
But her legs refused to move.
“It’s right here in the paper.” Sue jabbed at the newsprint with her pointer finger. “The Society page.”
That damned newspaper.
“Oh, God.” Elizabeth’s stomach churned. “Who’s sitting in his lap this time?”
She tried to prepare herself for the answer. He was Donovan Darcy, after all. The most eligible bachelor in England.
Of course, if she’d said yes that night at Chadwicke, Donovan would no longer be a bachelor. He would be hers.
“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Sue turned the paper around and slid it across the table.
Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to look at it, fearing the worst. What if he really was with another woman already? And—oh, please, please no—what if it was Helena?
“Look, there’s a photo,” Jenna said.
Elizabeth took a fleeting glance. There was Donovan, alone, standing in front of a familiar-looking building. She squinted. It couldn’t be what it looked like. It just couldn’t. But her blood began to thunder in her veins at the possibility.
Breathe, just breathe.
She found she had to concentrate on the simplest tasks of inhaling and exhaling as Jenna read the caption aloud.
“Donovan Darcy in New York earlier this week, where it’s been rumored he delivered a check from the Darcy Family Trust to a private school in Manhattan. Mr. Darcy will be back in London today, where in a last-minute substitution, he’s scheduled to serve as a judge at the Earl’s Court Annual Dog Show.”
Stunned silence fell over the kitchen.
The soft panting of the dogs as they sprawled on the cool tile floor was the only thing that could be heard for several long minutes.
Jenna was the first to speak. “I don’t believe it. Lizzy, you know what this means, don’t you?”
Elizabeth knew exactly what it meant.
The Barclay School had absolved her of any wrongdoing. They’d put it in writing. They’d called and given her an offer that was nearly double her former salary. She’d been given the chance to go home to everything she’d known and loved.
She had the freedom to choose what kind of life she wanted...all because Donovan had bought back her reputation.
“This is crazy.” Jenna reread the caption. “Seriously crazy. I wonder how much he donated.”
“An enormous sum, I suppose. Mr. Darcy is known for being quite extravagant when it comes to charity.” Sue leveled her gaze at Elizabeth.
Extravagant didn’t even begin to cover it.
She closed her eyes, and at once she was back at the Orangery, eating that delicious cake, her insides all fluttery as Donovan winked at her. What was it he’d said about his money that day?
Shall I give it all away, then? Since you f
ind it so objectionable.
He’d done more than simply give away a big chunk of his money. He’d gone all the way to New York, written a check for what was certainly a staggering amount and somehow negotiated an arrangement for the Barclay School’s board of directors to eat crow and apologize. All for a woman who’d refused him, who’d taken his love and flung it back in his face.
These weren’t the actions of the type of man she’d accused him time and again of being. She should have known better, especially after she’d learned that he’d raised Zara after their parents had been killed. Why hadn’t she allowed herself to see him as he really was?
Elizabeth was struck with a jolt of humility that hit her right in her core. She grieved for every saucy speech she’d ever given Donovan about his wealth, his arrogance, his entitlement and most especially about how she didn’t love him.
But somewhere in that grief and humility, she felt a stir in her soul. A stir of hope. Donovan had a made an extravagant gesture. One that spoke of extravagant love.
Perhaps it wasn’t too late, after all.
25
Donovan was drowning in Scottish terriers. They were everywhere. As soon as he finished judging a class of four, five more marched in right behind them. He wondered, not for the first time, what had possessed him to agree to this judging assignment. He’d barely had time to shower and change on the way in from Heathrow, and his jet lag had reached brutal proportions. He could barely keep his eyes open.
Then again, that was nothing new. Sleep was elusive these days. The secret was to just keep moving. Stay as busy as possible. So long as his mind was occupied, he might have a remote chance of keeping stray thoughts of Elizabeth Scott from creeping into it.
Elizabeth.
He assumed she was on her way back to America by now. He’d seen to it that the damage done by Grant Markham had been rectified. It was his parting gift to Elizabeth, his way of making up for all that had gone wrong. Buying her job back had been easy enough, particularly when he’d shared Markham’s whereabouts Bonfire Weekend with his wife. And now the Barclay School would soon have a new library. Funded by an anonymous donor, of course. The written apology he’d insisted on had cost him new lab equipment for the science program. Worth every penny.
