32. Lizzy
Lizzy
My heart broke for Darcy. Splintered, like his trust in people. God, what he’d been through. He still seemed tortured as he’d recounted that scene, his body upright but stiff, traumatized by pain.
And I sensed the words were new for him, as if he hadn’t talked like this to many people…
if any? Maybe his brother? Maybe not even his brother, because Darcy clearly held himself out as the eldest, the strong one.
His apology for what he’d done to Jane had been heartfelt and genuine, and I wanted to fully forgive him.
What he’d done was painful, but now I could understand his actions better.
Part of me wanted to fold him in my arms and take away some of his pain. But I sensed he had more to say.
Instead, I touched his shoulder. “That sounded terrible. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“It was humiliating.” His eyes were glassy in the dusk.
That he was being so honest made my heart throb until I could barely take how much I felt for him.
I took his hand. “Did you have other friends to turn to? Family?”
“Afterward, my so-called friends sided with them. Beforehand too, because some of them suspected the affair and didn’t warn me. Seb was much more fun than me. Afterward, Wills wanted to be there for me, but I clammed up. My mother was furious and thought it was some character defect on my part.”
“Oh God, that’s awful.”
“That pretty much summed her up, I’m afraid. Summed up both of my parents. The family name and reputation came first. Feelings were second.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” I paused cautiously. “Are your parents still with us?”
“No, they’re both gone now.” His face crashed into a mess of emotions I couldn’t quite untangle.
“I’m so sorry.”
He touched his heart. “I still feel a stab right here thinking about how my mother reacted. It bothered me how she passed without me redeeming myself in her eyes. And it bothers me I craved their approbation. It was a stupid yearning that would lead nowhere. It was never going to happen.”
“They’re our parents. We can’t help but want their praise, for them to be proud of us.”
I didn’t know if he wanted to be comforted, but impulsively, I wound my arms around his waist and squeezed hard.
“You don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to,” I murmured into his chest, which was pounding with his stricken heart.
He pulled me closer and lifted my chin. “I want to talk about it. With you. To be honest, I’ve never spoken about the whole terrible mess to anyone.
Not even to Wills, because the deal is, I take care of him and he doesn’t have to worry about me.
I told him I was pleased Sophia showed her true colors, not the way it unfolded, and that I never thought I was in love with her. ”
“Was that true? Were you not in love with her?”
“I thought I was at the time. I know now, since my weekend at the Amor Inn…I wasn’t.”
Was that…? Surely that awareness wasn’t because of me? He looked as though he was holding back.
“That’s when I realized, too, the friends I’d made back at the clubhouse when I was a kid were the last real friends I’d made. Suffice it to say, Sophia was never interested in any of them. That’s why the clubhouse at West City is so important to me.”
I nodded. That gave me an insight into him.
His childhood friends meant a lot to him, he didn’t value status like Sophia had, and he wanted to do good in his world.
He felt so alone; he hadn’t been able to talk to anyone about his fiancée leaving with his best friend, anguish and sorrow trapped inside him.
“Do you ever bump into them, Sophia and Sebastian?”
“They live in London. She’s in marketing, and Sebastian’s a big-time lawyer. But he’s not in property, so no, I don’t come across them. I don’t even want to hear about them, but sometimes he’s in the papers for his high-profile court cases, representing entertainers and politicians.”
Sebastian. Lawyer in the papers. “You’re not talking about Sebastian Seymour, are you?” I asked.
“Yes, him.”
“You’re right. There’s no avoiding him if you read the news. Also, because he’s very…” Hot. I trailed off, not wanting to rub salt into the wounds.
“Because he’s dashing. You can say it.” He gave a rueful smile. “Honestly, I’ve pretended to myself I wouldn’t care if I saw them again, but the truth is, I avoid the smart bars around the Law Courts on the Strand, where I’m pretty sure they hang out.”
“I totally get that. Mine is nothing as heart-wrenching. My breakup was amicable, but it felt like a failure, and I avoided the whole east part of my village so I wouldn’t run into my ex. I was so relieved when he got a job transfer and left town.”
He nodded in understanding. “I don’t have any interest in seeing them again. Like I said, my good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.”
In this instance, completely understandable.
“Look, I don’t want to waste any more time talking about them.
” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’ve made a complete mess of everything, Lizzy.
Again, I’m so sorry for what I said to you that weekend and what I did to your sister.
My brother has been utterly miserable, and my manipulation of the situation and putting him off pursuing Jane has seriously damaged my relationship with Wills. ”
We both stood there as heat bloomed in my chest. I wanted to start over with Darcy.
At times, he’d made me feel special and desired.
His upbringing had shaped him in certain ways I better understood, and I saw a man who wanted to be better.
I wanted the chance to explore that more, but he needed to fully prove himself.
There wasn’t an us…yet. I felt the same feelings I’d felt at the inn, but I didn’t want to rush.
I wanted to make sure this time he was all he seemed.
Jane’s happiness would hopefully be restored—that was what I needed for now.
“In the meantime, I would love you to stay for dinner,” he said. “Both you and Tabitha?” Amusement tugged at his mouth. “Promise I won’t be cooking.”
I laughed. Yes, I wanted to stay for dinner. I wanted to see him more in his natural habitat.
“I would love to,” I said. “Can I check what Tabitha wants to do this evening?”
“Yes, of course.” He reached out and stopped me with a soft hand on my arm. “Lizzy, I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Are you?” I smiled.
He stepped toward me and gently, naturally, reached out and slid his knuckles over mine. His light touch sent shivers of delight up my arms and short-circuited my brain, which could only hammer out, more, more.
“Yes, I am.” He took both my hands and swung them a little. “And especially now I’ve found out we both love warblers.”
“Ah, yes, the warblers.” I nodded sagely.
He lightly rubbed his thumbs over the soft part of my wrists.
Smoothed circles into my skin, round and round, gentle then firmer, until I was melting.
Until my knees weakened and I wanted to sink under his touch.
If that was what his mere thumbs did, I couldn’t imagine what havoc the rest of his tightly ridged body could do wrapped around me. I shivered.
“Your sighting is interesting, because I’ve spotted a number of warblers on our estate,” he mused. I stared deep into his sky-blue eyes and registered hazily he was still talking about birds.
“Yes?” I replied.
“I’ve seen the wood warbler in the summer. It’s green and brown.”
He linked his fingers through mine and trailed them gently in and out. The trailing became a more forceful press, shooting a sensitive tingling into my core.
“Oh, so pretty,” I murmured.
“I’ve seen the common chiffchaff, which is brown,” he said.
“Brown,” I repeated in a daze.
Now his thumb was massaging my palm, and somehow his deep and specific touch was sending signals to every corner of my body. I liked birds as much as anyone, but I particularly wanted this warbler conversation to go on and on, because even this small touch of his was so disturbing and addictive.
“I’ve been lucky enough to spot seven varieties of warblers on our grounds,” he said.
I nodded dreamily, wanting him to keep making those circles in my palm, harder and deeper. Deeper. Grinding. Oh God.
“But I’ve never seen a warbler with red crests or black spots or blue tails,” he said.
“Oh?” I was still barely comprehending what he was saying.
He bit his bottom lip, and the corners of his mouth twitched. “Because no such warbler exists.” He narrowed his eyes at me, amused. “Lizzy Bennet, you are an abysmal liar. You know nothing about birds.”
Oh shit. My hands flew from his, and I covered my face with mortification.
I groaned and looked at him through my spread fingers. “I thought you believed me,” I squeaked out.
He gave me a slightly pained smile. “At this stage, I’m so desperate to be around you, you could pretend to be a prize-winning ornithologist, and I’d smile and nod.”
His words were so unexpected, I stared at him, my jaw slack.
I shook myself. “I keep thinking I couldn’t embarrass myself more. And you were so good about me crash-landing on you.”
He flinched slightly at the memory, then smiled gently. “What if I want to be your landing place when you fall out of the sky?”
“Oh.”
Now his words were vulnerable and lovely. I didn’t know how to answer him immediately. All I knew was my hands were not in his any longer, and I craved his touch.
“This is too much, isn’t it?” he asked ruefully. “It’s too soon?”
I strolled over to the other arch.
“Do you know, I prefer this arch,” I said, standing under it and pressing the sides. “It’s messier than that perfect arch over there. This one’s crumbling, and the roses are all shapes and sizes and colors, but it has more charm and character.”
He looked confused that I was talking about another arch and maybe a little hurt I hadn’t responded to his romantic declarations. But he moved over to join me, which was what I was hoping for. My stomach flipped at his nearness.
“That’s a coincidence,” he said. “I prefer it too. Especially with you standing under it.”
Butterflies erupted in my belly. He regarded me with a much more serious expression. The light in his eyes went bright, his chest heaved up and down, leaving me under no illusion he was as overcome as I was.
“Lizzy, you have bewitched me, body and soul.” A tense crease formed between his thick black eyebrows. “Can you put me out of my misery? Do I have a chance with you?”
I gasped in awe. You have bewitched me, body and soul.
I’d never heard such beautiful words come from a man’s mouth.
I’d seldom written a declaration so deep and tortured and wonderful.
My chest swelled, full and tender. He had more than a chance.
I still needed to spend more time with him, truly understand him fully, but kissing was an important part of learning about this man, right?
Not answering his question outright, I moved closer to him. “Would you like to make new memories under this different arch?”
He creased his forehead and narrowed his eyes, growing intrigued. “What sorts of memories were you thinking of?”
A magnetic charge pulsed between us, sparking gold and glowing around the edges.
I couldn’t breathe. My chest was tight. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up.
I felt the urgent need to be as close to him as I could get.
His hair, his eyes, his mouth were all I could see, filling my world.
This was it—the feeling I’d written about so many times, what I’d felt for a second when we’d kissed before we’d been interrupted by the dogs—blindingly exciting, consuming, scary.
But however scared I was, fear couldn’t overwhelm my need to touch him.
I needed to have him, be with him, be wrapped around him, and hear all his thoughts.
I stepped toward him and put my hands on the soft knit sweater hugging his wide, muscled shoulders. Standing on my toes, I moved my face up to his. Our lips were so close.
“Let’s make these kinds of memories,” I said, touching my lips to his and brushing softly back and forth.
A rustle sounded behind us. We both turned.
Mrs. Reynolds stood there, looking apologetic and embarrassed. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. There’s a phone call from your brother.”