Not that he had minded; it meant he could sit next to Elizabeth. Since he was king for the night, no one could gainsay him when he chose that seat. But now Margaret had called Elizabeth over to her, and as queen, she could not be refused. Darcy's eyes followed her as she wove her way across the crowded room to her little cousin.
How was he ever to forget her? It had been hard enough when she was a mere acquaintance, and he could pretend that closer contact would disillusion him. Now, in just a matter of days, she had somehow slipped into his life as the only person Georgiana had confided in, the only person outside his cousin Richard who knew the truth of what had happened in Ramsgate.
Not only was she aware of it, but he suspected she knew more about it even than he did. After their shopping excursion, Elizabeth and Georgiana had disappeared to her rooms for hours. When they had emerged, his sister’s face was tear-stained, but she seemed relieved, as if a giant burden had gone from her shoulders.
How could he possibly let Elizabeth go now? His duty demanded it, but it would be like tearing out a bit of his heart.
When she returned to his side, she was wearing Margaret's paper crown, a little worse for wear and slightly askew, along with a wicked smile. “Margaret has abdicated in my favor,” she said. “Being queen was leaving her out of all the fun of playing exaggerated characters. Too boring, she says, but apparently she believes I do not mind being bored.”
“I find you anything but dull.” Why had those words popped out of his mouth? He wished he could blame Mrs. Gardiner's surprisingly strong Twelfth Night punch, but he was far more intoxicated by Elizabeth's presence than any spirited beverage.
“Why, Mr. Darcy! Or should I say Your Majesty?” Her eyes danced. “If I did not know better, I might almost consider that a compliment.”
He should not say anything. If he paid her more compliments, she might think he was courting her. And, God help him, he was no longer completely certain he was not.
How had that happened?
Something in his expression must have troubled her, for her smile faded away. “Pray excuse me, sir. My aunt is beckoning me, and I suspect she wishes my help with little Edward.”
She did not wait for an answer, simply walking away towards Mrs. Gardiner, who was holding an exhausted toddler to her shoulder. They conversed briefly, and then Elizabeth took the child from her and headed out into the vestibule.
Without even a second glance at him.
Why, oh why, had he suddenly been tongue-tied at exactly the wrong moment? If only he could follow her and say something, anything, so it did not look like she had embarrassed him. He could not bear having her think that.
Even if he had to say too much. Duty be damned!
It would be beyond improper to go after her, so he did the next best thing and approached the other young Gardiner boy. Charlie, that was his name. “Would you like another pick-a-back ride?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, please!” the boy piped. “Will you trot and neigh, too?”
“I believe I can.” If it would get him out into the vestibule where he could wait for Elizabeth, he would get down on all fours and bark. He bent down so Charlie could climb on his back.
The boy cried, “Hup, horsey!”
And Darcy started to trot, tossing his head like a highly strung mount, making Charlie shriek with delight. As they circled the room, Georgiana watched him with wide but happy eyes. Did she think he had forgotten how to play? He had grown too serious, these last few years.
He made a few rounds, to the boy’s glee, and then trotted out into the vestibule. Still mostly in sight of the rest of the party, but where he would be the first to see Elizabeth descending the stairs. He entertained the boy with a series of neighs and snorts, pretending to buck him off.
Finally she appeared, her eyebrows delicately raised at the sight of his lively play. But a small smile danced on her lips, and that made everything worth it.
Darcy gave the boy one last circle of trotting, then lowered him to the ground. “Well ridden,” he said, “but your steed is tiring, and your family awaits.”
The boy’s eyes were shining. “Thank you, sir!” Then he ran off into the parlor.
Darcy seized his moment. “Miss Elizabeth, I pray you will forgive me for being tongue-tied earlier. I fear I gave you the wrong impression.”
Her smile widened. “Tongue-tied?” she asked lightly. “I have never seen someone look so shocked to discover they had complimented someone.”
“I found myself at a loss for words, Miss Elizabeth, something that never seems to happen to you.”
“So now I talk too much?” she teased.
He had to do better this time. “Your eloquence and wit constantly amaze me.” He lowered his voice, leaning his head towards her. “And that, Miss Elizabeth, was most definitely a compliment.”
Her breath caught. Then her eyes quickly darted upwards, and her cheeks flushed. But she said nothing.
He followed her gaze to the sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, and his heart beat faster. “We do seem to have a talent for this, do we not?”
