“So,” she said, her voice laced with feigned innocence, “I heard you somehow got paired with Mr. Darcy on his app.”
Elizabeth looked up slowly. “Somehow?” “
I only meant,” Caroline continued, fingers circling the rim of her wine glass, “it’s a curious match, given your strong opinions.”
“I was surprised myself,” Mrs. Hurst chimed in, dabbing delicately at her lips with a napkin. “You were so passionately vocal at the gala. Yet somehow, days later, you were signed up. That’s quite the turnaround.”
Elizabeth offered a polite smile, tight but composed. “I don’t remember the app saying not for those who criticise our methods”
“Oh, of course not,” Caroline said, her smile tightening at the edges. “We women always have our secret hopes, don’t we? Secret ones. Even if we pretend otherwise.”
“But things don’t always play out the way we expect,” Caroline went on. “I mean, you were exploring the app, probably hoping the algorithm would surprise you with someone interesting... and then, fate paired you with Mr. Darcy.”
“Who, by the way,” Mrs. Hurst added smoothly, “only created an account for experimental purposes.”
Elizabeth blinked. “Experiment?”
“Oh—he didn’t mention that?” Caroline tilted her head, feigning concern. “Oops. I suppose I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Mrs. Hurst gave a light shrug. “Come now, Caroline. What difference does it make? Elizabeth never seemed overly fond of Darcy. It’s a pity she ended up matched with someone she openly criticised.”
Caroline let out a delicate laugh. “Yes, well—his involvement was never about romance. It was just a trial. A test of the tech. Nothing serious. Louisa, what was it he said that day? Something about not wanting a relationship?”
Mrs. Hurst nodded thoughtfully. “He said he wasn’t interested in love or dating. He just wanted to see how the algorithm performed. That was all.”
“So you see,” Caroline finished, eyes sliding back to Elizabeth with a gleam of triumph, “it wasn’t personal. Just research.”
Just as Elizabeth tried to digest the statement, a soft rhythm of footsteps sounded in the hall, then grew louder.
Darcy entered the room like a sudden change in weather—unavoidable and quietly charged.
Caroline straightened like someone arranging herself for a portrait. “Mr. Darcy, we were just wondering where you’d gone. We missed you.”
He didn’t answer her.
His eyes stayed locked on Elizabeth, whose own expression had shifted—no longer composed, no longer polite. There was something wounded there now, quietlyblooming beneath the surface. Not anger, not quite. But something ache-shaped.
Elizabeth’s heart beat once, uncomfortably. The room felt too close.
She rose before he could say anything, her chair sliding back with the softest scrape.
“I think I’ll get some air,” she said, not quite looking at anyone. Not needing to.
And then she left—quiet, steady, leaving behind a room full of words that suddenly had nowhere to go.
***
By the time she stepped out onto the sidewalk, Elizabeth’s hands were shaking.
The night air hit her skin, but it wasn’t cold that made her shiver. She pulled out her phone, thumbs flying across the screen.
“Work emergency. Had to go in a rush. Don’t worry about checking on me, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She hit send to Jane before she could second-guess the lie. Jane would believe her. She hoped she did, because she wasn’t in the mood for an explanation—or for having a sister babysit her out of pity.
A cab pulled up. She climbed in, muttered her address, and leaned back hard against the seat, the city lights dragging streaks across the windows as they sped past.
Her chest was tight. Not with heartbreak—but something hotter. Meaner.
