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Dismissed. Darcy felt like saluting.
They were still behind closed doors when she came back downstairs a few minutes later, dressed in heather tweed slacks and a short-sleeved sweater. She was leaning over Mrs. Cusack’s desk, reviewing the day’s calendar, when she heard the doorknob of Dave’s office give its characteristic groan, and she pushed the calendar aside and hurried toward the kitchen to make another pot of coffee.
Not, she told herself, to avoid coming face to face with Mr. Elegance again. She couldn’t possibly care less what he thought about her.
The telltale loose board in the hallway creaked, and a moment later Trey Kent was standing in the kitchen doorway, the sopping-wet towel in his hand. He was holding it gingerly, as if afraid it would drip on his perfectly creased trousers. “I think we’re finished with this, Ms. Malone.”
Darcy took the towel, wrung it out, and hung it over the faucet. “I hope it helped.”
“You were very kind.”
She waited for him to go back to Dave’s office, but instead he leaned against the front of the cabinets and folded his arms across his chest. “My sister’s wedding is scheduled for the middle of December.”
And why are you telling me about it? “Really? Now that just goes to show why Dave’s the lawyer and I’m the part-time secretary, because I’d have guessed she was here for a restraining order, not a prenuptial contract. Unless of course it wasn’t the fiancé who did this to her.”
“It was. And she won’t be marrying him.”
“Well, that’s good news. Most battered women are so off balance about the whole thing that they blame themselves for getting beaten—and they don’t even consider filing charges.”
“Can you blame them? Taking the whole thing to court is complicated, inconvenient, unpleasant and time-consuming.”
Darcy looked at him thoughtfully. “Don’t forget embarrassing,” she said coolly. “Especially for the family.”
“Not to mention risky for the victim who stands up against an abuser.”
“So is that why she’s talking to Dave instead of the district attorney—because you’d rather handle it all quietly?”
“Not quite. We have an appointment with the district attorney later this morning, but I brought Caroline to see Dave first so he could tell her why it’s absolutely necessary she not back down and let Corbin go free to do it again to someone else. But I’m sure you don’t need the legal process explained to you.”
Darcy bit her lip. “Oh. I thought—”
“It was quite clear what you thought, Ms. Malone. In the meantime, however, this whole thing has left us with a problem.”
“Us?” Darcy asked. “I assume you’re speaking generically, because I don’t feel that this is exactly a personal difficulty for me.”
“A problem for Caroline and for me. And for the Kentwells chain.”
Darcy snapped her fingers. “Of course. Kentwells—the department store group. No wonder your name sounded familiar. Trey Kent…let me think. You’re not actually named Trey, are you? You’re Something, Something Kent the Third—that’s where they got the Trey.”
“It’s better than being called Junior as my father sometimes was.”
“No contest there. So what is your name, really?”
“Andrew Patrick Kent.” He added, sounding reluctant, “The Third.”
“All those nice first names and you don’t use a single one of them. Such a shame.”
“Has your brother ever told you you’re impertinent?”
“Frequently. But since I’m not officially working for him, he can’t fire me, you see.”
“He said you’re not working at all right now.”
“On the contrary.” Darcy reached for a mug. “I’m working very hard to get a full-time job. In fact, one of the applications in the stack on the desk, waiting for the mailman to pick it up, is addressed to the head of marketing at the Kentwells stores. I put my best samples in it. Of course, I put my best samples in all the packages I send out.”
“Marketing,” he said thoughtfully. “Dave said you’re trained as a graphic artist.”
“You know, it sounds to me as if Dave was doing more talking about me than about his client. That’s not like Dave.”
His gaze flickered. “I asked him about you.”
“Really? I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me why you wanted to know?”
“I might be able to pull some strings for you.”
“Why would you want to?” Darcy asked bluntly. “Why would it even occur to you? The impression I made this morning can’t have been anything to make you want to help me out. Or do you mean Dave asked you to give me a hand?”
He didn’t answer. “You have a certain potential.”
“Oh, I get it. You’ll find me a job with your competitors so I can create chaos for them. Or are you just interested in getting me out of here so I can’t gossip about Caroline’s problems? Of course it’s a little late to prevent me from talking about what happened this morning, if I wanted to. Not that I would, because I can keep a secret.”
“Dave assures me you’re the soul of discretion.” His voice was dry.
“But you don’t believe him, so you want to cut a private deal to keep me from blowing my mouth off.”
He didn’t answer. “I’d like to tell you about my problem, Ms. Malone. Or may I call you Darcy?”
“I guess I can’t stop you from calling me whatever you want. But before you tell me all the gory details about Caroline, you should know I don’t counsel battered women or the guys who beat them up.”
“I have no intention of telling you the details, gory or otherwise, about Caroline.”
“Then what on earth can I do for you, Trey?”
He seemed to flinch at the name. Darcy had expected he would, and that was exactly why she’d used it.
“I started to tell you earlier,” he pointed out. “If I might finish my explanation?”
Darcy handed him a mug of coffee. “Sure. I’ve got nothing to do but listen.”
“When Caroline first set her wedding date, the stores’ advertising department decided to take advantage of the fact. What they came up with is a sort of hybrid of royal wedding and advertising blitz.”
“Interesting combination.”
“They’ve planned a three-month-long program of print and media ads showing the bride and groom choosing everything for their wedding and their new home.”
“From an engagement ring to a lawnmower,” Darcy murmured.
“I don’t think they thought of the lawnmower.”
“Then your advertising department is obviously in need of some fresh blood.”
He winced.
“Sorry,” Darcy murmured. “I guess that’s probably not a good image right now, considering Caroline’s bruises and that scab on her lip.”
“At any rate, the ad space and time have already been scheduled, the merchandise which will be featured has all been selected, and the photographers are booked to take the pictures. In fact, they started two days ago.”
“I begin to see the dimensions of the problem,” Darcy murmured. “You’ve got all the pieces of a campaign and now the stars have winked out on you.”
“That’s about the size of it.”
Darcy sipped her coffee. “I don’t suppose you could be lucky enough that the fight between Caroline and her fiancé was over another man? Then you could just blot out the current guy from the photos and substitute the head of the new one.”
“No,” he said. “We’ll have to start over.”
“Of course you’ll have Caroline’s split lip to contend with—though I suppose you could photograph her only in profile, until she heals…”
“Are you always this irreverent?”
“Generally, yes,” Darcy admitted. “Though perhaps I should point out that it isn’t my intention to be disrespectful to Caroline and the trouble she’s having.” Only to you. Why are you telling me all this, anyway—Mr. Smith who wanted so badly to be anonymous?
“Dave suggested we use someone else.”
“You know,” Darcy murmured, “I’m always amazed when it’s the expensive attorney who comes up with the obvious answer and thinks it’s brand-new and original.”
“Yes, I’d already considered the possibility of making a switch. The question, of course, is who to use instead.”
Darcy shrugged. “Doesn’t the store have a bridal registry? You could call up the couples who are already listed and ask if they’d like some free stuff in return for using their pictures.”
“Those people are already well into the process. They’ve made most of their decisions already. The whole point of the campaign is the excitement when a bride and groom look at all the options the store makes available to them.”
“And then they’re going to choose exactly the merchandise you’ve already decided to feature? Sorry, I suppose I’m being irreverent again.”
“Plus we need to start shooting again tomorrow—we’re already well behind schedule—and that doesn’t leave time to do background checks on the people who are already listed in the bridal registry.”
“Investigate them? Whatever for?”
“Considering why I’m here this morning, I’m surprised you have to ask. We narrowly escaped putting a batterer into a prominent spot in our advertising. I’d hate to find out after the fact that we chose a bigamist or a sex offender instead.”
“You’re just about as big a cynic as Dave is. Okay, how about Dave?”
“Dave?”
“Salt of the earth. He wouldn’t exactly be royal wedding material, but the ads would have the advantage of looking like real people.”
“Real people?”
“Yes. Pardon me for saying it, but I think the average customer of your department store is likely to have a little trouble picturing herself in Caroline’s size three bikini. Your sister’s gorgeous—or she would be without the bruises. But she looks like a model. Whereas if you had a normal-size, normal-looking bride and groom—”
“Someone like Dave.”
“Sure. Why not ask him how he feels about it?”
“I did. He said he was more accustomed to dealing with mopping up the other end of a marriage.”
“How long have you known him, anyway? Surely it doesn’t surprise you that he’s a bit jaded after all the divorces he’s handled. Maybe he just needs a little encouragement to settle down. Give him a nice gift package, a little publicity for the law practice…”
“He also said he wasn’t dating anyone.”
“Now, that’s malarkey. He’s always dating someone. The current girlfriend called here last night, as a matter of fact. Which reminds me—I forgot to tell him that Ginger phoned.”
“Yes,” Trey said dryly. “I see now why you said you’re good at keeping a secret.”
Darcy made a face at him. “The point is, if he told you he wasn’t dating anyone, he was pulling your leg.”
“You didn’t let me finish. Actually, what he said was that he wasn’t dating anyone he would consider for an instant in connection with the word ‘bride.”’
Darcy blinked in surprise. “Now that makes me feel a little crazy. He harped at me all the way through college about how I should never even go out for a slice of pizza with a guy I wouldn’t consider marrying. Now he’s dating someone he himself thinks is inappropriate—”
“I thought you said you’d talked to her. She must not be so bad if you think she’s all right.”
“Well, I’ve only been back in town for a week, so I haven’t actually met her. Now I can’t wait to see what he means.”
He shifted restlessly against the cabinets. “If we could stay on topic, Darcy.”
“Oh. Sure. Well, if you can’t find a bride and groom, you could always turn the whole thing into a public service campaign to promote awareness of domestic violence.” Belatedly, Darcy remembered the picture hat, the veil, the alias. “Though I guess Caroline wouldn’t want to go quite that public, right?”
“There would also be a little matter of slander if her ex-fiancé’s name came into it.”
“Technically, slander doesn’t apply—not if you’re telling the truth. At least, I think that’s the case, but maybe you should ask Dave about slander and libel.”
“I don’t need to. After the trial is over, Caroline can be the poster child for battered women if she chooses—but in the meantime, I still have a problem.”
“Well, Dave’s very resourceful. I’m sure he’ll think of something.”
“He has thought of something. Me.”
Darcy wondered why that particular solution hadn’t occurred to her. Not because she’d assumed someone like Trey Kent was already taken, because that possibility hadn’t even crossed her mind. There was an air of independence around him which said that no woman—other than perhaps Caroline—had a say in what he did. But it was odd how she’d known that without even stopping to think about it.
“Well, it’s not exactly a unique solution,” Darcy mused, “but it works. Marry off the prince instead of the princess. After all, one royal wedding is pretty much like another. And for the good of the store, surely a little thing like getting married probably wouldn’t be any big deal to you at all. Problem solved. More coffee?”
“I have no intention of getting married.”
“Oh? What have you got against marriage?”
“Nothing in particular. I just wasn’t planning to walk down the aisle anytime soon.”
“So you’re just going to play the part? If that’s all it takes, then why not hire actors?”
