Page 15 of Stuck

“I haven’t seen you in the office much this year,” she continued. “I’m not surprised you prefer to be in Derbyshire whenever you can. I know I would, if I lived in a house as gorgeous as yours.”

Oh good, she’d done an internet search on me. I gave her another desultory smile and sipped more beer.

She was entirely undeterred by my silence. If anything, she must have leaned closer, because I could suddenly smell the red wine on her breath. “You live with your younger sister, is that right? I bet you’re a wonderful brother.”

Before I could think of a polite way to ask her to bugger off, a snort from the other side of the table grabbed my attention. How I hadn’t noticed that Elizabeth had sat down directly opposite me I didn’t know, but she was looking between Callie and me, her lips pressed together and her eyes dancing again in that way that made it seem as though she found something intensely funny. I wanted to be irritated at being laughed at; instead, I found my lips twitching as I fought my own amusement.

“You’d need to ask my sister about that,” I told Callie. “I don’t doubt her answer would depend on what day you asked.”

She let out a fake laugh and placed her hand on my arm. “Do you plan to be in the London office more frequently now? Can we hope to see you on more of our nights out?”

I stared at her hand for a moment before raising my eyes to hers. “Unlikely.”

Her smile stayed in place as she slid her hand off my arm, but the coyness disappeared from her expression. “Well, that’s a shame. I’m going to the bar. Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.”

She left, and I checked my watch again. Still too soon to leave, probably. I spoke with Wainscot for a while, but I couldn’t resist eventually glancing back at Elizabeth. She’d gone, and someone else was sitting in her seat. I tried to tell myself I didn’t care. I might have convinced myself, too, if it weren’t for the explosion of relief that flooded me when, a few minutes later, she slid into Callie’s vacated chair next to me and put her own wineglass tentatively on the table.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked. “Someone took my seat while I was at the bar.”

“Be my guest.”

For some time, that was the extent of our conversation. Elizabeth was immediately drawn into a discussion with the people on her other side. I listened, not sure what they were talking about but able to see how enthusiastically everyone responded to—looked for—her every contribution. It was clear why Bingley liked her; she was effervescent. Popular without trying to be, effortlessly sociable. Exactly like him.

“You’re very quiet.”

I started at the sound of her voice directed at me. I hadn’t realised I’d been lost in my thoughts.

“I’m not part of the conversation,” I replied.

A smile flickered at the corner of her mouth. “I think they’re all scared of you. Maybe if you stopped glowering?”

“Why would I do that, if the result would be to make them start talking to me?”

Her smile broadened. “You don’t want them to?”

“I’m content to observe.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing me. “Why did you come if you didn’t want to be sociable?”

“Bingley asked me to.”

“I see.” She watched me over the rim of her glass as she sipped her wine. “And did he specify that he wanted you to terrify everyone while you were here?”

“He didn’t specify that I shouldn’t.”

She laughed, and I felt irrationally pleased with myself. Sobering, I said quietly, “I’ll speak to Polanski about what happened at the bar. He won’t stand for anyone in his team behaving like that.”

“You mean Al?”

“If that’s his name.”

“Please don’t. He was only messing around. He would have dropped it if I’d asked him to. I just couldn’t be bothered to explain.”

“Explain what?”

She flashed me a mischievous grin. “That I can get a bit unruly when I do shots.”