The Art of Apology Release Celebration

Hello everyone!

Today, I’m celebrating the release of my latest book, The Art of Apology, which is now available in paperback, e-book, and through Kindle Unlimited. I wanted to take this opportunity to introduce you to a very special character in the story, Darcy’s dog, Budge. While I was working on The Art of Apology, my sweet doggy nephew, Buddy, crossed The Rainbow Bridge.  Buddy was a good boy, and, with my sister-in-law’s permission, I decided to memorialize him in the story and dedicate it to him in thanks for the happiness he brought to her and our family.

Naturally, I had to give Buddy/Budge an important role in the story. The excerpt is from Chapters 14 and 15, so a ways into the novel. It represents the first time Darcy and Elizabeth have a friendly conversation—and it is all because of Budge.

Marin: The Art of Apology

Today, he had managed to coax his lazy oaf of a dog to accompany him. Glancing down at the creature, Darcy wondered whether perhaps he ought to hope he did not meet Miss Elizabeth. She might despise him for his unfashionable choice of canine companion. Was she that sort of lady? He did not believe so, but he hardly knew her—which was why she had said he could not truly regret his remarks at the assembly.

“Come on,” he grumbled. “Can you not go any faster?” His horse—as fine a specimen as any in the country—whinnied, almost as if he had taken Darcy’s words as an insult. He patted the long, brown neck, and said, “I was not speaking of you but rather of—”

Suddenly, off ran the dog, showing more energy than he ever had in his life, leaving Darcy to chase after him.

“Budge, where are you going?” he cried, alarmed when he ran through undergrowth that was impossible for Darcy to cross. “Bud, you maddening thing! If you get lost, I-I…” There was no way to end the threat; the truth was, he would continue to search until there was no reason to keep doing so. His sister would be heartbroken if anything happened to Budge, and there was nothing Darcy would not do to keep his sister from sorrow, especially after her ill-fated sojourn to Ramsgate the summer past.

A few minutes later, a single bark provided Darcy with the clue he needed to find his dog. “Stay exactly where you are, Budge, or you will be sent to your bed without dinner for a week!”

Rounding a tall stand of vegetation as he spoke, Darcy almost fell from his horse at the combined sensation of surprise and deep embarrassment.

***

Miss Elizabeth Bennet was crouching, patting a clearly enthralled Budge. She looked up at Darcy, a wide smile on her face, and laughed. Her eyes danced, and it was impossible to deny that it made her especially lovely. For a second, he forgot to breathe.

“Did you call your dog Budge?”

He dismounted, using the moment he had his back to her in a largely vain attempt to regain his composure. “I did.” He spoke the words slowly, then rolled his eyes and continued, “He began his life with a much more dignified name, but he was—still is—lazy and would fall to the ground acting exhausted wherever he was. My sister, who was only ten or eleven at the time, would always urge him to budge. She said she liked the way the word sounded, which was her excuse for saying it so maddeningly often. The silly thing—the dog, not Georgiana—would not move no matter how much we prodded him. Eventually, he would only respond to Budge or Bud.”

Her lips twitched, telling him she was finding it difficult not to laugh; he could not blame her. “What sort of dog is he? I do not have a perfect understanding of breeds, but I do not believe I have ever seen a similar one.”

Budge was neither large nor small, and he was almost entirely white, with fur that always appeared in need of grooming. But he had his own appeal, with big dark eyes and a mouth that made him look like he was smiling no matter the circumstances.

If Miss Elizabeth wanted to speak of his dog for the next hour, Darcy would oblige her. That she was willingly asking him questions, looking at him with friendliness, was a victory he had longed for—more than he had realised until this instant. “His parentage…is uncertain. One of the groundskeepers at my estate found him when he was a young pup. Georgiana loved him at once, and so we kept him.”

“But he is your dog, not your sister’s? I assume as much given he is here and she is not.”

He sent a silent prayer to the universe that he had not become as red as a ripe strawberry. “He appears to prefer me.” He quickly went on, not wanting to admit that Budge showed signs of illness whenever Darcy went away without him. “You have an affinity for animals, I see.”

She turned her gaze to Budge, who was lying down, his eyes half closed, and continued to stroke him. “I have always quite liked them.”

“Do you have any pets of your own?”

“Not any longer. We used to have a cat, properly my mother’s, but she was free with her affection and often demanded attention from my sisters and me. Not unlike how this fine fellow is.” Budge gave a soft bark. “She died last winter. I suppose my mother will get another cat eventually, but it is too soon.”

“I am sorry,” he said with genuine feeling. “I know how much sorrow the loss of a beloved pet can cause.”

She said nothing at first and kept her eyes on Budge. Darcy watched her, a sense of peace gathering around him, whether it was from the beautiful place or the beautiful lady with him, he could not say. Or perhaps it is just because she is kind to my dog and has not yet fled my company. She had even sounded amiable when she addressed him.

Standing, she said, “I ought to continue my walk.” Budge rolled over until he was half on her feet, causing her to chuckle and Darcy to silently promise him a treat for finding a way to delay her departure.

“I would like to apologise to you.”

Miss Elizabeth regarded him, her brow arching gently. “Am I to take your words as the apology?” Her tone was not angry or mocking, which was an improvement on their recent exchanges.

He shook his head. “I understand that for you to believe I am truly contrite and fully accept that I was mistaken at the assembly, I must do more than that. I must know you enough that I can truly feel and assert that I do not believe what I said of you that night. That is what you told me.” She nodded slowly. “I do not know how to go about it, but I would like to earn your forgiveness.”

“This is quite an alteration from our last conversation,” she said. “How do you explain it?”

He was certain if he touched his cheeks, his fingers would burn. “Perhaps I am not used to people telling me their honest opinion of my comportment. Since more than one person has informed me that I have not acted as I should, I would be a fool to overlook it, and once I admitted they were correct, what sort of person would I be if I did not seek to remedy the consequences of my actions?”

“Are you referring to my father? I know about him calling on you. I did not ask or expect him to.”

“It never occurred to me that he was there because you—Though, I suppose you had every reason to be upset and to want a public apology.” He paused, holding up a palm facing her. “I am beginning to babble. It was not just your father, to answer your question.”

“I doubt you are capable of babbling, Mr Darcy.” She smiled, her eyes bright with amusement, and he felt something inside him shift, acknowledging that it was not the first time he had experienced the sensation of late. He did not know what it meant, and this was hardly the time to sort it out.

I think we all know what is happening to Darcy! Haha.

Thank you for reading! The Art of Apology is now available through Amazon.