Chapter Twelve #2
She believes I am bestowing the kind of empty compliments that men give ladies of their acquaintance. He needed her to understand the truth.
He reached out his hand and took hers, guiding her to the empty spot on the seat beside him.
“You are, quite simply, an extraordinary woman,” he said, gazing deeply into the dark depths of her eyes.
“Quite aside from your beauty and command of magic—which are both formidable—you possess a rare wit and vivacity.”
Her lips parted and she stared at him. As well she should; his words had been tantamount to a declaration of love. After a moment, she gently removed her hand from his grasp. “You should not say such things to me.”
He could not agree. Convincing her of her true worth was more important than his discretion or any abstract sense of honor. “If I were not already promised to Miss Bingley, I would—”
She put up a shaky hand to forestall him. “Do not say such things! You are promised to another woman.”
“You have no idea how bitterly I regret that. If I had met you before agreeing to marry her—” He managed to stop before implicating himself further. “But I have promised, and I cannot be forsworn.”
“Of course,” she said faintly. “And my family connections, my position in life—”
“—Would mean nothing to me if I were free to give you my heart.”
“I—” She grasped for words. “I had not the least idea.”
“Did you not? I feared my admiration for you must be glaringly obvious to everyone.”
“Not at all,” she murmured, again staring at her hands.
She had not the slightest idea how appealing he found her in that moment. Her blush. Her slightly perplexed expression. The genuine modesty that prevented her from taking his admiration as her due—as so many women would. Everything conspired to make her so beautiful it took his breath away.
Darcy was weary of holding himself in check. Weary of constantly denying himself the one thing he truly desired. He took her hand in his once more. “I do not love Miss Bingley.”
Her head shot up, and she peered into his eyes. Ascertaining his sincerity? “It hurts my heart to imagine you in a loveless marriage,” she admitted finally.
He unbuttoned her glove, amazed at his own boldness.
“I never hoped for anything else from marriage, until…recently. I do not believe Caroline loves me either, but we rub along well enough. It had long been my father’s dream to unite the legacies of the two families.
The Bingleys have a powerful magical lineage even though his father dabbled in trade.
At the time, I saw no reason to object to the arrangement.
Our children—” —he stumbled over the word—“—will undoubtedly possess great power.”
His imagination supplied an image of Elizabeth’s daughter, with her pert smile and dark curls. But another man would be her father. Elizabeth would pass on her significant magical heritage to…someone else’s children. Life was cruel.
Elizabeth had made no move to pull her hand away.
Slowly, giving her time to protest, he pulled the glove from one finger…
then another…and another. When her hand was naked, he brought it to his mouth.
But rather than kiss the back, he flipped it over and kissed her palm, an unexpectedly intimate gesture.
Elizabeth shivered. She had not confessed to sharing his tender emotions, but her slightly parted lips and flushed cheeks suggested he was not alone in this hopeless attraction. It seemed a horrible travesty that he would live out the rest of his life without one more opportunity to kiss her.
Angling his body forward, Darcy brushed his lips over Elizabeth’s.
She did not pull away but leaned into the kiss, pressing her body against his.
The next kiss was deep and languorous. She opened her lips, allowing their tongues to intertwine.
His lips pressed against hers fiercely. She tasted of the chocolate she must have consumed at breakfast—somehow the perfect taste for her.
Elizabeth emitted a breathless gasp, sinking more deeply into his arms. Darcy’s fingers delved into her silken hair, causing the careful coiffure to fall apart; hairpins bounced onto the seat and floor of the carriage.
She moaned softly as his other hand wrapped around her back and pulled her even more tightly against his body.
He poured every emotion into the kiss, all the feelings he was forbidden from naming. Elizabeth became even more pliable in his arms, surrendering control and holding nothing back.
When they finally drew apart, his world had changed, shifted into another reality altogether. He had been tragically mistaken that one kiss might somehow lessen his regret. He desired nothing other than to kiss her again and again, make love to her, and claim her irrevocably.
Mrs. Jenkins snored loudly, and they jumped apart. But the chaperone was still deeply asleep. Darcy chuckled.
Slowly, he turned his head, peering cautiously into Elizabeth’s eyes.
His behavior had been highly inappropriate; she would be quite justified in claiming he had compromised her.
But he saw no censure in her eyes. “I must desist now while I can still call myself a gentleman.” He slid backward on the seat, retreating to the corner, but his eyes still devoured her face eagerly.
“How I wish you could be mine! And I could be yours.”
Her eyes widened—as well they might at such a naked declaration of love. Elizabeth touched a finger to her lips in wonder. “I did not know.”
He shook his head ruefully. “My acting skills must be better than I believed.”
Elizabeth broke her gaze from his and turned to hastily gather hairpins from the floor and seat. “I am…quite flattered by your attentions,” she said, keeping her eyes carefully averted. “But we should not speak of it again.”
Darcy stared at her, endeavoring to understand her meaning.
Was she offended? Ashamed? Perhaps she simply did not understand.
“I continue to delay the wedding in the hopes that…Caroline might beg off, but I do not have much cause for optimism. Still, you should know that my heart already belongs to you.”
She shook her head and chuckled. “Perhaps you do not understand the meaning of ‘we should not speak of it again.’”
Darcy’s face warmed, although he enjoyed the teasing.
“And,” she continued, “please note that I have said nothing about accepting such an offer, even if it were forthcoming.”
“But you kissed me!” Darcy was beyond caring how desperate he sounded.
“I did, and it was most enjoyable.” Elizabeth said, but Darcy was not mollified. “You may be much desired by women of the ton, sir. But it hardly follows that I would fall into your arms the moment you expressed affection.” Finished fixing her hair, she returned to her seat beside the chaperone.
Is she serious? “You delight in teasing me,” he said.
“Do I?” She gave him an arch look. “I am merely reminding you that it requires consent from two parties before a wedding may take place.”
Darcy slumped against the squabs and stared out the window at the misty white nothingness.
I am a fool. He had assumed they were both flirting, taking pleasure in each other’s company.
Naturally he believed she would return his feelings since he was a desirable match in every way, but Elizabeth was hardly the kind of woman to fall in love with a fortune.
Nor would Darcy want to be loved for his wealth.
A corner of her mouth quirked upward. “It is heartening to know that your feelings about me have undergone such a transformation since we first met.” Darcy did not know where he stood.
Were her sentiments sincere or was she teasing him again?
Had he damaged their friendship with his presumptuous and unwelcome attentions?
His stomach churned sluggishly as the next few minutes dragged on in silence.
Finally, Darcy could no longer stand the quiet. He cleared his throat. “Will you have a place to stay when we arrive in London?” Although he would love to have her visit Darcy House, he was well aware of the impropriety.
“Your aunt sent an express to my aunt and uncle who live in Cheapside. They will be pleased to have me visit.” Her words were cool and formal. “Will you report Mr. Hurst to the Convocation immediately upon our arrival?”
Darcy was relieved to return to a somewhat neutral subject. “Unfortunately, we have no evidence at the moment. Only suspicions. I plan to visit his townhouse and see if there is proof of nefarious activities. Of course, if the goblin attacks continue in London, that will be further confirmation.”
She frowned. “Seeking evidence strikes me as a dangerous proposition. We do not know what he is doing with the power he acquired by killing goblin children.”
“I will be careful. As a paladin, I have more training in dangerous situations than most mages. And I hope I might enlist Bingley’s help.”
“Against his own brother-in-law?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.
“They are on cordial terms,” Darcy said.
“But there is little love lost between the two men. Although…” He grimaced, lost in a memory.
“Bingley did say he planned to support Hurst in the election for archmage, which is quite odd. He knows as well as I do that the fellow is a mediocre mage—or at least he presents himself that way. It is doubly strange since your father said something similar to me about his proxy vote.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. “My father has always supported the Earl of Matlock.”
“Bingley, too.” Darcy rubbed his chin. “I thought Hurst was a fool to sit for election again, but if he has changed enough minds, perhaps he will have a chance. It has always been his dream.”
Elizabeth regarded him sharply. “An important enough dream to kill for?”
“Certainly,” Darcy agreed. “But I do not see how excess power would help to win him votes, unless…Good Lord!” He bolted upright in his seat. “He is using suasion.”