offering to help her. She had seen it in his face the moment her mother had asked her to run out. He didn’t want to be stuck with her family a second longer than he had to. The Bennets were simply too suburban middle class for the world-famous Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Elizabeth was simmering inside but was determined not to show it as she followed Darcy to his car. Ignoring the luxury automobile around her, Elizabeth gave directions to Darcy. Then she asked the first thing she could think of. “So, why did you cut your hair?”
Darcy’s eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but she could see the annoyance in the set of his lips. “You know,” he said softly, “I have written seven number one songs. I have traveled over four continents. I have performed before hundreds of thousands of people. I have met both the Pope and the Dalai Lama, and still, do people ask me about any of that?” His voice had risen slightly, “No, they ask me about my hair.”
Elizabeth was slightly embarrassed, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. “Yes, but everyone has hair. Conversation is as much about the things we have in common as it is about the experiences that make us unique.”
Darcy turned his head to stare at her for a long beat, and then turned back to the road. “I cut my hair because it was becoming more important than my music. I don’t want people to associate my name with my appearance. I want to be known for what I play.”
Elizabeth was impressed by his answer. “I can understand that. It really pissed me off that none of the record companies would meet with us, or even respond to us, until we started including our picture with our demo tapes.”
Darcy nodded once. “It’s harder on women musicians. There is much more focus on your appearance.”
They pulled up to the store. Adam’s was a combination garden center and gourmet market. Elizabeth hung a shopping basket over her arm and looked at the produce section. “Do you like strawberries?” she asked, eyeing the first harvest of the season.
“Yes,” he replied, slightly surprised. “But Caro is allergic to them,” he recalled.
Elizabeth nodded and passed by the rest of the fruit. She moved on to the bakery and chose a fruit tart and a chocolate cheesecake. “That ought to satisfy everyone,” she smiled to her companion.
Darcy walked with her to the register and offered to pay. Elizabeth assured him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted. She shrugged and waited in line. While waiting, she noticed the checkout girl watching them closely. When Darcy handed the girl his credit card, she giggled and blushed, but quickly processed the transaction. Darcy took the card back with a confident smile and warmly thanked the girl, which produced even more giggles.
“Does that happen often?” Elizabeth asked as they walked back to the parking lot.
“What? Being recognized?” He shrugged. “Not very often.”
“Do you mind it?” She was annoyed somehow by his behavior with the girl, and she realized she was now trying to provoke him.
“Not when people are polite about it. I hate it when people I don’t know stand and talk at me like I’m their best friend or something.”
“Hmm,” Elizabeth said noncommittally as she got into the car.
“Elizabeth, you better get used to this. Once your video hits MTV, your private life is over. You’ll have to be able to handle it.”
“You seem pretty sure we’ll be a success.”
“I believe you will be,” he answered. “You are a talented band, and you are going to have the label marketing supporting you.” He didn’t sound too convinced, but Elizabeth was willing to take him at his word.
“Can I ask you a question?” Darcy said softly.
Elizabeth snapped out of her thoughts. “Of course.”
“Why ‘Long Borne Suffering’?”
Elizabeth smiled ironically. “It’s actually a joke about my mother.”
Darcy looked at her, willing her to continue.
“My mother will sometimes go on these rants, complaining about things, the way everyone does, I guess. She always ends with ‘You don’t know how I suffer!’” Elizabeth grinned. “When we were putting the band together that seemed like a funny joke, so we picked it and it stuck.” She shrugged. “It’s too late to change it now. Why ‘Slurry’?”
“It’s just a name,” his deep voice said darkly.
Elizabeth didn’t believe that for a moment, but she also recognized that he didn’t want to talk about it. She had clearly reached the limit of questions she was allowed to ask for the day.
They rode the rest of the way in silence. Darcy stayed for the dessert and then left quickly afterward. Elizabeth, for her part, was glad to see him go. She spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying the company of her family, the Lucases, and the Bingleys, forgetting about Darcy and his coldness.
Chapter 3
The blonde who walked out of the loft on Broone Street was not exceptional in appearance. She was attractive, but not so much that it would draw anyone’s attention. That was just how Rebecca Nelson wanted it. She walked out, her blue eyes carefully inspecting the street on that rainy morning. Seeing that it was clear, she raised her hand, and two men and a woman exited the building and entered the black limo that was waiting at the curb. Rebecca was the last to enter the limo, and it pulled swiftly away.
“Why are you here, Rebecca?” Fitzwilliam Darcy asked as he sipped his mug of green tea.
“Why, to guard you, Darcy,” Rebecca replied frankly. “Hence the term ‘bodyguard.’”
Darcy looked at the woman sitting opposite him. Rachel Brown was tall, leggy, and gorgeous. Unlike Rebecca, it was not in her job description to be unremarkable, something Rachel was quite pleased with. Her long legs flowed out of her short skirt, covered by the long jacket she wore over it. Her hair was long, dark, and wavy and her eyes were the color of a stormy ocean. Darcy asked his personal assistant in a tired voice, “Why is Rebecca here?”
Before Rachel could answer (not that she planned to) Rebecca gave up. “Okay, I’m here for two reasons. One: because you are going on tour tomorrow and you are out of practice moving with your security detail.” Rebecca ignored the way he rolled his eyes. “And two: because you are going on Fuse this afternoon.”
Rachel took a deep breath and suggested that they go over his schedule for the day.
“Yes, perhaps we should,” Darcy snapped and took another sip of his tea.
Rachel consulted her BlackBerry and began. “We are going to the studio now to meet with Caro and Charles. Caro has some papers for you to go over. At eleven you are going to see Long Borne Suffering perform. Charles has suggested that the two bands do lunch together.”
“He would,” Darcy muttered to himself.
“At one thirty you have to be at the Fuse studios. Slurry is going to be the first act on
“Did you know about this?” Darcy asked Richard, who had been watching him with amusement.
“Oh yeah. Caro told me Monday,” he nodded.
“Are we scheduled to perform?” Darcy asked Rachel.
Rachel had had enough. “No, you and Juliya are going to glare at each other on live TV for twenty minutes.”
“That’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not,” Rachel answered him flatly. “You are booked to play ‘Lost Myself.’” Charles and Richard will handle all the talking; you can brood in the corner.”
Darcy grew silent for a moment as he thought. “We need a violin for ‘Lost Myself.’”
