Chapter 3

The conversation was so friendly, so easy, that Darcy didn’t even think back to his one and only declaration of love. Instead, he smirked at Charlie, and was happy to see Elizabeth doing the same thing. “A connection of a different sort can certainly be made online,” he said to her quietly, “but it is the in-person meeting that determines the certainty of a true meeting of minds and hearts. It certainly worked for them,” he added, nodding at the canoodling couple.

“It did, and I am very happy to see their happiness.” A server appeared and handed Elizabeth her club soda. She lifted it up, gave Darcy a nod, and took a sip.

“As am I.” He’d done what he could to make amends and encourage Charlie—after apologizing for his own bad judgment and stupid advice. Glad as he was for his friend and Jane, it was the warmth in Elizabeth’s smile that made it worth it. He took a sip of the Riesling that Charlie was excited about and frowned at its overly sweet taste.

Elizabeth gestured to the couple. “Not everyone has the good fortune of a meet-cute like these two, and not many men have the good sense and humility to realize when they’ve made the biggest mistake of their lives and fix it.”

She leaned over to Charlie and threw an arm around him affectionately. “You’re the best.”

No, he was the worst, getting Elizabeth’s hugs and smiles and compliments. Darcy scowled but before he could say something regrettable, Jane reached for Charlie’s hand; he turned and grinned at her. The saccharine overload was almost too much. Then Jane tipped it over into the kind of sentimental soppiness Darcy couldn’t bear.

“Charlie is the best, Lizzy, and so are you. Now we just need you to find your own perfect man.”

“And you need to try this great pinot gris. I ordered you a glass,” added Charlie.

Desperate to regain Elizabeth’s attention, Darcy burst out, “Online dating is not the answer for everyone. People have different standards and distinct interests and desires. I think most men still prefer the traditional manner of meeting a woman at work or through friends.”

Charlie, still flanked by the two Bennet sisters, gave him an odd look. Darcy braced himself for whatever joke his friend was formulating. Instead, it was Elizabeth who laughed.

“You are a great defender of the status quo in romance. Do these men wear hoodies on first dates or live in their parents’ basements? If not,” she added, winking at Jane, “then where are they hiding?”

Chuckling, Charlie waved to someone across the room. He and Jane stood and disappeared into the crowd.

“And they are off to mingle.” Elizabeth smiled. “Charlie really cannot sit still, can he?”

Darcy shook his head impatiently. Maybe Charlie couldn’t sit still, but he had an issue getting his mind to slow down. And he had an idea, one that might give him a chance to prove to Elizabeth that he was, if not a perfect man, a better man for her than anyone else.

“Not that Jane complains,” Elizabeth continued. “Their happiness and energy levels are in sync.” The gaiety in her eyes faded when he failed to respond. She took a long drink of her club soda. “I should probably get going.”

His hand moved more quickly than his voice. “No...I...um...I have a proposal?—”

Her eyes widened, looking from his hand, resting on her arm, back to him.

“Sorry.” Darcy shifted in his chair, pulling his hand back to his side of the table. “I have an idea, to prove the point about online dating. I’ll set up dates for you—just lunch or coffee?—”

She would have looked less shocked if he had sprouted a second head or announced he was moving to Nepal to become a sherpa.

“Are you nuts? No freaking way.”

“You’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Just my time and my dignity. It’s enough that my mother always wants to set me up with someone’s third cousin’s neighbor or the new pharmacist in Meryton. I’m not looking for a boyfriend, and I have better ways to spend my time.”

She looked up at the server as he set down a glass of pinot gris by her elbow. Darcy watched her nose wrinkle as she extended a slim finger to pull out a small piece of cork from the wine. She looked up and met his eyes.

“You deserve better than your mother’s setups or some accountant trolling art galleries for dates.”

Elizabeth stared at him, clearly surprised he knew anything about her personal life, let alone her ex-boyfriend. “What makes you think you know what I like in a man?”

“I know what you despise in a man, thus I am pretty sure I know what you might like.”

He swore silently. He hadn’t meant to allude to their past interactions or the biting words she had said when he’d made his awkward, ill-timed declaration to her. To his relief, she appeared unbothered by his thoughtlessness.

“Are your friends like you, super serious and fond of saying ‘thus’ all the time?”

“My friends tend to be more like Charlie, and none have beards even approaching Santa-length.”

“Points in their favor.” Elizabeth tapped on her wineglass. “Charlie is great. He’s sweet and has good hair and will make great dad jokes someday. But he’s not really my type. Jane and I are pretty different.”

Yes, you are. Darcy waited, uncertain whether speaking would ruin her change in mood.

“Okay,” she said, holding up a finger. “If you want to be my matchmaker, I get to be yours.”

“Wait, what?”

She shrugged, her sweater shifting to reveal a little more of her shoulder. Glancing up, Darcy saw her gazing at him with a mischievous smirk. “You’re even more single than I am. The only woman I’ve seen on your arm since we met is Caroline, and even though anyone in a quarter-mile could tell she wanted you, it was pretty clear you weren’t interested.”

He bit his lip. “Yes, um, she’s a conundrum. My sister says Caroline thinks we’re dating because I’ve given her rides a few times and complimented her ice skating once.”

“Once.” Elizabeth threw back her head and laughed, truly laughed. Remember this, Darcy told himself, you made her laugh.

“You poor thing,” she said. “I promise there will be no one like Caroline. I have fun, normal friends.”

Wait, is she serious about finding someone for me? “You don’t know my type.”

“Based on your lack of a date at any event we’ve both attended, I’d say you don’t know it either. If you want to play Cupid for me?—”

“Relationship consultant.”

“Fine—relationship consultant—then it’s reciprocal. I’m doing it for you, too. Deal?”

She held out her hand, and there was no possibility that Darcy would resist grasping it and agreeing.

“Great. Let’s set ground rules.” She dropped his hand and used hers to begin counting off her guidelines. “Three dates. Coffee, in a public place, on a Saturday morning. No spying on the other’s meetups, but a thumbs-up or thumbs-down via text is required within two hours of the date’s completion.”

“Sure.” He had not thought this through; spying on Elizabeth and another man—even a man poorly suited for her—would have been a torturous temptation. A loud popping sound commanded Darcy’s attention to drift past her, to the Champagne being opened for a smiling couple clearly celebrating some kind of anniversary. “And your dates will be holding a red rose so you recognize them.”

Her nose wrinkled adorably. “Ah, the perfect romantic cliché.”

Darcy tapped on his phone and looked at his calendar. He frowned; the second half of the month was more open than he’d recalled. “Next Saturday? At Etta’s, that place with those sandwiches you like?”

“Absolutely not,” she cried. “I am not meeting strange men at any of my favorite places. It has to be neutral ground, not in my neighborhood, and crowded in case I need to disappear fast.”

Smiling, he agreed. “I’ll make sure not to set you up with anyone I suspect might be a serial killer.”

“Or a weirdo.”

He shrugged. “Well, I’ll try, but they are my friends.”