“Good.” I grabbed another dirty napkin from the coffee table and shoved it into the bag. “Order pizza at your poker game. I’m cleaning this place up and don’t want to see another pizza box.”
Luke stopped in the middle of shoving his feet into his sneakers without untying the laces and did a double take. “Wait. You usually lecture me when I play poker.”
We both knew why I didn’t like him playing poker. We’d grown up in a house with a dad who didn’t know when to stop. It was one of the things that made me such a control freak. We’d had very little influence over our lives as children (or so a psychologist had explained to me in college). All I knew was that organizing things made me happy. Our father had spent years losing, however, while Luke almost always won. He had the math brain our poor father never would. “Yeah, well, tonight I’m fine with it,” I added stiffly.
“Okay. I’ll go get cleaned up and leave.” Luke disappeared into the hall bathroom, which he never kept clean enough for my standards. I’d be cleaning that later, too. Bleach was sure to be involved. And gloves.
I’d pushed the last of the beer bottles into the recycling bin in the kitchen, and was wiping my newly washed hands on a white towel, when Luke’s voice drifted out of the bathroom.
“Hey, Meggie, why don’t you find your own Mr. Darcy, go to the competition, and beat the hell out of Harrison and Lacey Lewis?”
Chapter 3
Why don’t you find your own Mr. Darcy? The words reverberated through my brain over and over again, like Big Ben tolling out the midnight hour. Beat the hell out of Harrison and Lacey Lewis.
“I can’t,” I called back to my brother, but the entire time, the less-evolved, competitive, jealous, angry portion of my brain was already plotting the entire thing. While the other half of my brain was shrinking away from the notion. I’d be an idiot if I went to Bath and tried to rival Harrison and Lacey. How would I explain that to Harrison? How would I explain it to Dr. Holmes?
Luke came out of the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel. “Why not?”
“I’m sure Dr. Holmes wouldn’t like it.” There. That was a good enough reason, wasn’t it?
“So what? It’s not affiliated with the college, is it? He can’t keep you from competing, can he?”
“No,” I ventured, tapping my cheek with the tip of my finger and leaning back against the kitchen counter. “But I don’t have a partner.” That was the best reason of all.
“You could find someone else. Just like Harrison did.”
I groaned and shook my head. “It’s not that easy. Lacey’s good. She’s been studying with Harrison for the last six weeks. I could always go as their consultant.”
Luke gave me a look that fairly dripped skepticism. “I know you, Meg. Competitive is your middle name. You won’t be happy unless you’re in it to win. Besides, you’ve worked hard for months. You shouldn’t let all of that go to waste.”
It was true. I still wanted to win. “I have worked hard,” I mumbled. “I’ve been sewing for weeks. I’ve been practicing my waltz and my lines for the talent competition. I know whist like the back of my hand.”
Luke stood in the doorway, his face crumpled into a scowl. “What the hell is whist?”
“A really old card game.” I made an exception to my ‘no card games’ life rule for the Jane Austen Festival. Believe me, it was the only thing that could get me to do it.
“Sounds awful.”
“I think you’d like it, actually. But—”
My brother had a look in his eye that I’d seen the morning he’d left to take his SATs, which, of course, he’d aced. “You need to go to Bath and beat his ass.”
I heaved a sigh. “Who is my partner going to be? Imaginary Mr. Darcy?”
“Don’t you know some other big history nerd who can go with you?”
“No. Contrary to popular belief, unattached history nerds up for spur-of-the-moment international travel aren’t thick on the ground.”
“I thought you were in some kind of online forum with them.” Luke headed into the living room, where he started tossing around magazines and throw pillows, obviously searching for something.
“Yes, the Austen Society Facebook group, but everyone there already has a partner for the festival.” I followed my brother into the living room, feeling lost and whiny.
“Can’t you find someone and you know...teach ‘em what to do?”
My brother was smart, but he didn’t know the first thing about the intricacies of the Jane Austen Festival in Bath. “No, I can’t just find anyone and—”
I snapped my mouth shut and stared at my older sibling. Hmm. Wait a second. Luke was tall, dark, and handsome (or at least other women seemed to think so). I knew far too much about his living habits to find him handsome. Plus...brother. But the tall and dark part couldn’t be disputed.
I narrowed my eyes on him and pushed my fingers together in a steeple like Dr. Evil planning a dastardly plot. “Unless...” I drew out the word slowly.
“Unless what?” Luke froze and shot me a wary glance.
“Unless you wanted to go with me.” I batted my eyelashes at him like I used to when we were kids and I was trying to get him to do my bidding. It rarely worked.
Luke’s blue eyes nearly bugged from his skull. “Me? Whaa? No way in hell!”
“What? Why not?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You were just saying I should go beat Harrison’s ass.”
“Yes, but not with me. I don’t know jack about Jane Austen, Mr. Darcy, or any of it.”
“I could teach you! It’s my job.” This was tricky, and it was going to involve a bribe before it was over. My sisterly senses could feel it.
“Do you truly think I could learn all that crap you and Dr. Strangelove have been practicing in—what is it?—two weeks?”
Time for the bribe. “What if I paid you?”
“I’m not sure there’s enough money in the world.” Luke dug his hand into the couch cushions and pulled out his wallet, because of course his wallet would be stuck in the couch.
“One thousand dollars?” I offered, still eyelash-batting like a fool.
“No way!” He half-ran across the room, back toward the hall bath.
I trailed him, right on his heels. “Two thousand?” What the hell was savings for? I’d been practically a miser for the last seven years, paying back my student loans and pinching every penny. I’d pay twice that to beat Harrison’s ass.
Luke hesitated. “That’s more like it, but—”
“Five thousand,” I shouted. “And all travel fees and expenses.”
“Whoa? Five thousand? That’s serious. Are you sure you want to beat the good doctor that badly?”
“Of course! It’s worth it. Plus, I’ll pay for your costumes. But we have to get started on them right away.”
He groaned again. “Costumes?”
“Come on. We can do it. I know we can. Where’s that Knightley spirit?”
“I’m a singer, not an actor, Meg. Wait.” He flipped through his phone. “Is it the week of the fifteenth?”