Chapter 64
Chapter Sixty-Four
Darcy handed his firstborn to young Rutledge, who he noticed had a mild sheen of sweat on his forehead. Good. One should not take marriage lightly. Then Darcy sat with Elizabeth, taking her hand to still his own.
He studied the couple. They had met at a ball in town not even a year ago.
An ease and a lightness had come over Rose as soon as the young man began calling, and Elizabeth thought from the start they would be wed, though she cautioned them against too quick an engagement to be certain.
Darcy knew they occasionally stole kisses around bends on the garden paths when the family went out walking, and in shadows in their house in town.
Darcy would make a show of disapproval, but he understood.
He remembered the pulsing need he had for Elizabeth at Rosings, at Longbourn, and—heavens!
—even during the coroner’s inquest he feared might end his life.
He recalled the overwhelming desire he felt on their wedding night, and how he thought for sure he might explode as skin met skin for the first time.
Knowing this young man was thinking of his daughter the same way made him uneasy, and he fought the urge to rush to the altar and hogtie Mr Theo Rutledge and never let him loose.