He nodded.
“Are you volunteering?” she asked saucily.
“Do you think I should?”
Charlotte shrugged. “Might help.”
“If the situation gets desperate, I will. But frankly, I think she would prefer someone else.”
As one, Richard and Charlotte looked at Darcy, who was ignoring Rachel, who was sitting beside him and talking, and was instead staring at Elizabeth.
Charlotte nodded in agreement. “And the sad thing is, I don’t think that either of them knows.”
Richard lifted a single eyebrow. “Oh d’uh! Of course they don’t know.” He paused for a sip of coffee. “And, my dear Charlotte, they would be deeply offended if anyone tried to tell them.”
“It’s sad, isn’t it? How some people will let feelings get in the way of a good fuck?”
He looked at her long and hard. “Yeah.” Then he smiled. “That’s what I like about you, dear Charlotte. You know exactly what you want.”
“Thank you,” she said, pleased.
“Anytime,” he replied.
The breakfast meeting had gone well. Caroline had shown her skill and efficiency as she explained the plans and gave out directions. The tour would be moving out in two hours, and Elizabeth needed to get herself and Jane packed to go.
Elizabeth was exiting Jane’s room when the suite door rattled with the force of someone knocking on it. She could hear loud voices from the hall as she crossed to the door and opened it. Standing there was a quartet of angry-looking people.
“You! You don’t look hurt!” Mr. Collins snapped at her as he barged into the room, forcing her out of the way.
“Jane was the one who was injured,” Elizabeth answered, too shocked to be angry.
“It was your picture I saw!” Collins challenged her. “With him,” he jerked his thumb back at a glowering Darcy. Alex and Caroline followed them in and shut the door.
“Bill, I told you. Jane was injured and Lizzy will be filling in for her,” Alex said through clenched teeth.
“And just who are you to be making those decisions?” Collins turned on him. “Did you even consult Ms. de Bourgh? I’ll have you know she is very upset by this.”
Collins turned back to Elizabeth. “I’m very disappointed in you.” He looked at her disgustedly. “I thought we had an understanding that you would do whatever it took to get ahead.” He glared meaningfully.
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open. She looked first to Alex, who was already beginning her defense, and then to Darcy, whose mouth was drawn into a thin line.
“Damn it,” Alex swore. “Lizzy is doing everything she can. She is saving the show. What more do you want, Collins?”
“What’s wrong?” Jane asked sleepily, coming out of her room, still clad in her T-shirt and shorts.
“You!” Collins rounded on her. “You’re the clumsy fool who got us into this mess. What have you to say for yourself? Have you no shame? Couldn’t you have ducked?”
Jane looked completely at a loss by Collins’s attack. Collins was drawing breath for the next round when Charles joined Jane. Collins observed that Charles, who had just emerged from Jane’s bedroom, took her hand and kissed it, and he stopped short.
“Of course she couldn’t have ducked,” Charles said lightly. “What? You think she wanted a concussion?”
“Oh! Oh! Of course not!” Collins smiled hastily. “You are correct. Of course, poor Jane.” He transferred the smile to her, and then back to The Star who had his arm around her. “I just want to be sure Jane is all right and back onstage as soon as she is able.”
Elizabeth felt bile rising in her throat. She was revolted and humiliated by what she was witnessing. Her shame was made complete by the fact that Caroline and Darcy were there, seeing it all. No wonder Darcy thought Jane was using Charles. Why shouldn’t he, when clearly their own record executive did?
Elizabeth couldn’t look up. She heard Collins saying, “I’ve spoken with Ms. de Bourgh, and we agree that it would be best for you girls that I stay with the tour to lend a hand and help get you girls on your feet,” and she couldn’t take any more. Muttering a soft excuse, she went to her room and finished packing.
Sooner than expected, it was time to leave. Charles insisted that he was riding with Jane and Elizabeth volunteered to ride on Slurry’s bus.
A few minutes later found their baggage being stored on the bus while Jane, flanked by Alex, Elizabeth, and Charlotte, faced a dozen cameramen and reporters. Jane read a brief statement and then answered ten minutes’ worth of questions, which actually dragged out to fifteen. It was uncomfortable, but no one was rude in their questions and when it was over, Jane flashed a beautiful smile and they were off.
When Elizabeth climbed onto the Slurry bus, guitar case in hand, she was surprised by Caroline’s presence.
“Don’t mind me,” she said as she flipped through a fashion magazine. She was sitting on a sofa, her legs stretched out in front of her. “I’m currently having an important meeting with Darcy.”
Darcy was across the length of the bus, sitting at the table, tapping on his laptop. As Elizabeth passed by, Richard could be heard snoring from his bunk.
“Oh,” she said questioningly.
Darcy met her eyes. “You won’t wake him up.”
“What about your meeting?”
Darcy looked at Caroline, the corner of his mouth turning up. “She is just telling everyone that to avoid Anne. You can play. Don’t worry about it.”
Elizabeth nodded her thanks and settled down on the couch. Within minutes the bus was under way and Elizabeth had her guitar in her lap.
Darcy watched her, silently, his face half-hidden behind the computer, as she played softly. It wasn’t necessary for him to hide, he soon realized. She wouldn’t see or hear him where she was. He watched as her fingers moved lightly over the strings, deftly plucking and pinning them against the neck. He recognized something he had only seen in himself. She wasn’t rehearsing. She was healing, taking solace in her instrument and her music. He saw that she was working through the grief of the last day and making peace with herself. Suddenly she was different in his eyes. Someone who was much closer to himself now replaced the talented girl he had known. She was a peer. He had rarely found one before.
He realized he was being a voyeur, watching an intimate act. She was making love to her instrument. He knew he should look away, but he couldn’t. His eyes were locked on the way her hands caressed the strings and pulled the wooden body closer to herself. When she started singing softly, he was lost.
Her voice was rough and smoky with fatigue and stress, yet to Darcy it only added to the beauty of her song. He let her words move through him as she sang to herself.
She knew, he told himself. She knew about pain. He heard it in her voice, in her music. He knew with dead certainty that this was no innocent string of words. She was singing about something that had happened in her life, about rejection and loss.
He wondered briefly if she was singing to him but dismissed the thought. This was clearly a song she had written before, about something in her past. He wondered: Who? Who hadn’t she been good enough for? Who had failed her? The name Alex drifted into his mind, even as he pushed it away. He didn’t want to think about that, about him, about the way he touched her and kissed her and held her trust. He felt again that irrational stab of jealousy he had felt before.
He wasn’t troubled that she’d had other lovers; it was that they had not valued her. Not the way she deserved. Not the way he would.
He froze, abruptly appalled at what he had been thinking, and a wave of self-anger washed over him. He was being a fool! Admiring this woman who clearly hated him. It hurt him to admit that, but there was no denying it. The way she had looked at him in her room. The way she had reverted to her “polite” behavior. He didn’t know what he had done, but obviously there could be nothing between them, and that was the way she wanted it. Besides, it’s not like I feel anything for her!