Page 49 of His Pride and His Prejudice

“It is prideful to think such a thing.”

“I am a prideful man.”

A pause.

A moment.

Elliot could feel something coming from the alpha. It arched across the scant space between them, but he was at a loss to identify what it was, and before he could really even consider it, Darcy spoke again.

“Now tell me, why would you wish to understand it?” he demanded.

“I hear such different accounts of you as to puzzle me exceedingly,” Elliot said softly.

The music finished, slowing them to a stop.

That something seemed to pulse.

One final touch.

One final look before Darcy said, “You will know me better in the future.”

Twenty-Three

Darcy did not say a word as he returned Elliot to his family and friends—most of whom had eyed him with either astonishment or anger, and not least because he had taken clear liberties with the omega during the dance. Darcy could not be sorry for that though, and when he found himself in the aforementioned library not five minutes later, he finally understood why.

His heart was pounding.

His breeches were uncomfortably tight.

And he was…happy.

It was singular feeling, and he adjusted his breeches as he walked over to the section on poetry, wishing that he was in his own library where he could easily have found a volume to explain his affliction in more detail. But this was Netherfield’s library, and it was slender indeed.

The library doors opened just a few moments later and Darcy was not surprised at all when he saw who it was.

“Mr. Bennet.”

“Mr. Darcy.”

They had not been formally introduced before now, given that Mr. Bennet so rarely attended any kind of social occasion, and Darcy had not been present when Mr. Bennet had called on Charles for the very first introduction. Darcy did not know very much about the other man besides what he had heard during various social functions in Meryton. It was commonly held that Mr. Bennet was an eccentric, his artistic talents applied to the curation of literature, and that he had inherited Longbourn only because of his marriage and mating to Mrs. Bennet who was of a higher standing. He shunned polite society in general and left the task of arranging mates for his numerous sons to Mrs. Bennet.

“I have heard that Netherfield’s library is sadly lacking,” Mr. Bennet said after a moment. “I sought to confirm it for myself.”

“Bingley will seek to rectify that,” Darcy said, even as he knew full well that Charles would do no such thing.

Netherfield’s library may not have been well stocked but it was large. Mr. Bennet could have crossed the room and soon found himself out of earshot of Darcy. Or he could have entered the stacks on the upper floor and immersed himself in a dreary collection of religious tomes. Instead, he joined Darcy in the poetry section.

“Are you enjoying your stay at Netherfield?” Mr. Bennet asked.

“Indeed,” Darcy said.

“And Mr. Bingley?”

“He has found much to enjoy here,” Darcy said.

Mr. Bennet began to flip through the pages of an exceedingly dry volume of battle strategies published by an unknown general in what was an attempt at rhyming couplets. Darcy had done the very same thing some days past but had been unable to finish it.

“I understand Mr. Bingley intends to make Netherfield his main residence,” Mr. Bennet continued.

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