Read Online Mr. Darcy Broke My Heart by Beth Pattillo - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Beth Pattillo
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riverside pub, a gabled building of unremarkable brick and plaster that had stood the test of time. The cab pulled to a stop outside the entrance. James slid out and then turned and offered his hand to me. I placed my fingers in his palm and wondered if anyone had ever offered to help me out of a car before. I couldn’t imagine Neil doing anything like it. And while I was as forward-thinking as any self-respecting American woman, the chivalrous gesture stirred something within me. I’d spent so much of my life taking care of other people that I never expected anyone to take care of me, even in such a small way.
Once I was on my feet on the pavement, James didn’t release my hand but tucked it under his arm in an old-fashionedgesture and guided me toward the door. A hostess seated us outdoors on a broad terrace overlooking the river. Enormous trees arched overhead, shading us from the last of the day’s heat. I still hadn’t become accustomed to how late it stayed light.
James ordered a bottle of wine and a starter for both of us. I did bristle a little at his preemptive choice, but there was also an appeal to having the decision taken out of my hands. Still, I wasn’t completely certain we were on a date, and so I planned to pay my own way. And my way would probably have been to choose a less expensive menu item, not to mention a budget bottle of wine.
“It’s beautiful here,” I said, looking around at the tranquil river and the willows that hung over it in a graceful bow. If I hadn’t known better, I would never have guessed we were still in the city. “How did you find it?”
“The porter suggested it.” The smile lines at the corners of his mouth showed me he was glad I’d approved his choice.
I smiled too, pleased that he ’d gone to the trouble to get a recommendation and a reservation. Maybe we were on a date after all.
“You asked the right person, then.” I gave a small, nervous laugh and then busied myself unwrapping my silverware and settling the napkin in my lap.
The waiter arrived with the wine, and James tasted and approved it. Our starter appeared a few moments later—seared king scallop with cauliflower puree, pea jelly, and lemongrassbutter. A far cry from take-out barbecue with Neil while watching a Royals game. I took one bite and thought I’d achieved heavenly bliss. If the starter was this good, I could only imagine what the rest of the meal would be like.
We ate in silence for several minutes, lulled by the fading sunshine and the soft breeze in the trees. The tables on the terrace filled quickly, and soon we were surrounded by the soft hum of other people ’s conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter. The clink of silverware and glassware accompanied the midsummer evensong.
“So, Claire, have you ever wanted to do anything besides practice medicine?” James lounged in his chair, one well-manicured hand resting on the pristine white tablecloth.
I felt a flush rise to my cheeks and tried to will it away. “Um, well, I suppose so. Doesn’t everyone fantasize about their life being different?”
He leaned forward. “And what do you fantasize about?” He reached across the tablecloth and captured my hand in his. I was glad he’d taken hold of me. Otherwise I might have slid right out of my chair and onto the concrete terrace. I really was easy pickings.
“What about you?” Since I couldn’t exactly answer honestly, I decided to turn the question on him. “Do you wish your life had turned out differently?”
He paused. “As you say, doesn’t everyone?”
A shadow crossed his face, and for the first time, it occurredto me that he might have secrets of his own. Perhaps that was part of the appeal of a summer seminar like this, so far from home and reality. People could reinvent themselves, be whoever they wanted others to see instead of who they truly were. Such deep and potentially dangerous thoughts could only lead to unwanted self-examination, so I took a
Once I was on my feet on the pavement, James didn’t release my hand but tucked it under his arm in an old-fashionedgesture and guided me toward the door. A hostess seated us outdoors on a broad terrace overlooking the river. Enormous trees arched overhead, shading us from the last of the day’s heat. I still hadn’t become accustomed to how late it stayed light.
James ordered a bottle of wine and a starter for both of us. I did bristle a little at his preemptive choice, but there was also an appeal to having the decision taken out of my hands. Still, I wasn’t completely certain we were on a date, and so I planned to pay my own way. And my way would probably have been to choose a less expensive menu item, not to mention a budget bottle of wine.
“It’s beautiful here,” I said, looking around at the tranquil river and the willows that hung over it in a graceful bow. If I hadn’t known better, I would never have guessed we were still in the city. “How did you find it?”
“The porter suggested it.” The smile lines at the corners of his mouth showed me he was glad I’d approved his choice.
I smiled too, pleased that he ’d gone to the trouble to get a recommendation and a reservation. Maybe we were on a date after all.
“You asked the right person, then.” I gave a small, nervous laugh and then busied myself unwrapping my silverware and settling the napkin in my lap.
The waiter arrived with the wine, and James tasted and approved it. Our starter appeared a few moments later—seared king scallop with cauliflower puree, pea jelly, and lemongrassbutter. A far cry from take-out barbecue with Neil while watching a Royals game. I took one bite and thought I’d achieved heavenly bliss. If the starter was this good, I could only imagine what the rest of the meal would be like.
We ate in silence for several minutes, lulled by the fading sunshine and the soft breeze in the trees. The tables on the terrace filled quickly, and soon we were surrounded by the soft hum of other people ’s conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter. The clink of silverware and glassware accompanied the midsummer evensong.
“So, Claire, have you ever wanted to do anything besides practice medicine?” James lounged in his chair, one well-manicured hand resting on the pristine white tablecloth.
I felt a flush rise to my cheeks and tried to will it away. “Um, well, I suppose so. Doesn’t everyone fantasize about their life being different?”
He leaned forward. “And what do you fantasize about?” He reached across the tablecloth and captured my hand in his. I was glad he’d taken hold of me. Otherwise I might have slid right out of my chair and onto the concrete terrace. I really was easy pickings.
“What about you?” Since I couldn’t exactly answer honestly, I decided to turn the question on him. “Do you wish your life had turned out differently?”
He paused. “As you say, doesn’t everyone?”
A shadow crossed his face, and for the first time, it occurredto me that he might have secrets of his own. Perhaps that was part of the appeal of a summer seminar like this, so far from home and reality. People could reinvent themselves, be whoever they wanted others to see instead of who they truly were. Such deep and potentially dangerous thoughts could only lead to unwanted self-examination, so I took a
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