A Weekend with Mr. Darcy by Victoria Connelly Page A

stairs to the hall below, her feet making no sound on the plush red carpet.
    â€˜This is called the Imperial Staircase,’ Katherine told her. ‘One of the finest in the country.’
    Robyn suddenly stopped.
    â€˜What is it?’ Katherine asked.
    â€˜That man,’ Robyn said, nodding to a dark-haired gentleman at the bottom of the stairs. ‘He’s been watching us. Do you know him?’
    Katherine’s gaze followed Robyn’s. ‘Oh! It’s that dreadful man who attacked me with a suitcase.’
    Robyn watched as the man turned away. ‘He’s rather good-looking,’ she said.
    â€˜Well, if you like that obvious tall, dark, and handsome look,’ Katherine said.
    â€˜Tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt you?’ Robyn asked with a grin.
    Katherine’s gaze met hers. ‘Something like that.’
    They walked on, reaching the top of the stairs and turning right down a corridor lined with portraits.
    â€˜We’re at the end,’ Mark said, stopping outside two bedroom doors. ‘Dr Roberts here,’ he said, opening the door on the right. ‘Miss Love here,’ he said, opening the door to the left. ‘Enjoy your stay at Purley.’
    Robyn smiled, confident that she was going to do just that.
    ***
    Warwick was mortified. Of all the people to run over with a suitcase, he had to go and pick Katherine. What a way to finally meet her. He recognised her instantly, of course, but the memory of the look she gave him was enough to make him give up and go home right then.
    He helped Mrs Soames to her room with her suitcase and quickly returned to the hall, hoping to apologise to Katherine again and make some sort of amends, but she was on her way up the stairs by then with the young woman in the silver sandals.
    He stood and watched, getting his first proper look at Katherine, and what he saw surprised him. What had happened to the long, luxurious hair he’d seen in the photograph of her online? Instead of cascading over her shoulders, it had been tugged into a tight bun, flattened and lifeless at the back of her head. He took in the business-smart outfit in black and white, and the author in him wanted to rewrite her, dressing her in a vibrant colour and unpinning her dark hair.
    He watched as she talked to the girl with the corkscrew curls and followed their progress up the stairs. He hadn’t meant to stare. That stance wasn’t the heroic one he’d planned at all and he felt such a fool when he was spotted.
    First impressions were important, he thought, thinking of the disastrous one that had befallen Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy, and Austen herself had realised the role they played when she’d given Pride and Prejudice the original title of First Impressions . Warwick groaned. He’d completely missed his opportunity to make a good first impression— twice . Still, he was an author and was quite used to rewriting plots that didn’t work. He’d just have to wait for another opportunity and make sure he got it right next time.

Chapter 9
    The cedar room was absolutely perfect and Robyn was immediately in love with it, rushing over to the great sash window in excitement and sighing like a lovelorn heroine at the view that greeted her. The perfect emerald lawn stretched before her, and the cedar tree stood sentinel-like to her right.
    She looked at the double bed and felt guilty that it was for her and her alone and that Jace would be sleeping on his own, but that certainly wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t asked him to chauffeur her to and from the conference, had she? It was his fault if he was going to be stuck in a bed and breakfast bored out of his mind for the next few days. Robyn was quite determined that he wasn’t going to ruin her weekend. She’d looked forward to it for too long.
    Flinging open her suitcase and finding her hairbrush, she entered the bathroom and did a quick repair job on her