“What about Jane’s roommate? Elizabeth?” Charles asked. “Maybe you could ask her for drinks and see where it goes. She’s your type. From what Jane told me, I think you two would get along well.”
“My type? You mean money hungry?” Mr. Darcy countered.
My eyes widened. No one had ever called me money hungry before.
“Ouch,” Charles replied, turning to look at his friend. “I didn’t get that from her. What’s your problem with her?”
“She’s wearing a designer gown she can’t afford and bidding on items just for attention,” Mr. Darcy explained. “She’s just here to meet a rich husband, so she doesn’t have to work her meaningless job. I doubt there’s a brain cell in her head that actually functions.”
I stopped cold, my jaw hitting the floor. Every word out of his mouth was wrong. The gown was a rental, so I could definitely afford it. I had only bid on items I could afford. I had no desire to meet my husband. I loved my job as a nurse, and I had a freaking master’s degree.
My first impression of him was dead on. He was an ass.
“Wow.” Charles stopped and looked at his friend. Even from behind them, I could see the disbelief on his face. “Don’t hold back. Please, tell me how you really feel.”
“Did you see her younger sister?” Mr. Darcy continued. “Looking for fame and money. The movie star had to leave early to avoid her. She was drunkenly screaming at the bar like a lunatic. The whole family is nothing but trouble.”
And he had to insult my sister? His second chance flew out the window like a canary being chased by a cat.
“You sound like Catherine,” Charles told him with a snicker. “Next you’ll say something about them being beneath your bloodline.”
“I do not sound like my Chief Operations Officer,” Mr. Darcy replied. “I sound nothing like her.”
“She’s just here to meet a rich husband, so she doesn’t have to work her meaningless job,” Charles repeated, but in a high-pitched, British, old-lady voice.
The way Mr. Darcy glared at Charles told me it was a good impression. I was too angry to laugh at it, though. The crowd moved forward, and I was pushed a couple of steps closer to the two of them.
“It doesn’t mean she’s wrong,” Mr. Darcy told Charles. “Besides, you’re just in a good mood, or you’d see it too.”
“I am in a good mood,” Charles agreed.
“See? Drunk on love. You found the prettiest girl here, and she happens to like art,” Mr. Darcy continued. “You’re so twitterpated that you don’t even care that you’re leaving alone for the night.”
“She knew about abstract impressionism,” Charles said, sighing happily. “And I don’t care what you think. She made my night.”
Mr. Darcy snorted. Somehow, he managed to make that sound stuck-up too.
“Some things are worth waiting for,” Charles informed him. “She’s one of them.”
“You can wait for things then,” Mr. Darcy replied. “I get what I want, when I want it. I won’t be waiting like a lovesick fool for any woman.”
“She noticed the brush strokes,” Charles said, completely ignoring Mr. Darcy. He walked like he was on clouds rather than tiled floors.
“Good,” Mr. Darcy said. “Perhaps now you can take her to those awful art shows, and I can stay home.”
Charles laughed. “No way. I still need some way to torture you.”
Mr. Darcy shook his head and chuckled. “Of course you do.”
“I’m so happy,” Charles said with a soft sigh. He looked over at his friend. “I wish there were someone that could make you this happy.”
“Not going to art shows might do it,” Mr. Darcy told him. “Besides, I don’t need love.”
The crowd moved forward, and I was now right behind them. I wished I didn’t have to listen in on this conversation anymore, but with the crowd the way it was, there was nowhere else for me to get to the auction room to find Jane.
“Everyone needs love,” Charles told Mr. Darcy. “Even you.”
“No, I need to get laid,” Mr. Darcy replied. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want it to mean anything.”