“You are most welcome. Far be it from me to keep such a book from its rightful owner. Itisperfectly enchanting and deserves a place of honor on your shelf. Do you enjoy reading fairy tales?”
She blushed slightly, nodding. “Very much so. But... it might be childish of me.”
“Oh, poppycock. Every one of those tales has a deeper nuance, but unlike the more ‘serious’ novels, you cannot simply bite into it. You must flake away the fluff and crust to dig out the treasure. I should say it takes a far more clever mind to grasp these tales than… oh, say, the novels of Maria Edgeworth.”
She smiled. “You speak as if you are familiar with a great many books.”
I hesitated. “Not so many as I would wish. I have been delighted by Thomas Love Peacock—a particular favorite of my father’s—and I admire Samuel Johnson. I confess, though,” I lowered my voice conspiratorially, leaning in, “I sometimes indulge in the occasional... sentimental novel. The others may feed the mind, but those feed the heart.”
The girl giggled and covered her mouth in embarrassment. “I’ve a weakness for those as well. It’s comforting to know that I’m not alone.”
I chuckled. “I suppose we all need a touch of melodrama now and then, don’t we?”
She smiled broadly and put her hand out. “If you will permit me, my name is—“
But her introduction was interrupted by a masculine voice—one that shot shivers of familiarity down my spine. “Georgiana, did you find—“
The voice stopped as the man appeared from behind an adjacent shelf. And my stomach plunged into my shoes when I saw none other than Mr. Darcy, holding that freshly printed copy ofChilde Harold’s Pilgrimage. The color drained from his face and his mouth was still open, but no words were coming.
Oh, it was too late to escape and hide. He was staring at me as if trying to place my name, or as if he thought he’d stepped into the wrong room. And I probably looked no better, forced to rest my hand on the nearest shelf to keep from toppling over.
And then, horror struck, and my eyes drifted to the soft-spoken young lady I’d been amiably conversing with.Georgiana… Darcy.The girl who was supposed to be an excruciating bore and a prideful snob.
Mr. Darcy gulped and drew a shaken breath, then managed to speak. “Miss Bennet.”
My knees were knocking together. Heavens, why would seeing a man I did not even like cause me to quake like a leaf? “Mr. Darcy.”
“I… ah, was not aware that you were in Town.”
I gave him a saintly smile. “I expect you were not. It must be quite a surprise, finding we had left Hertfordshire without warning.”
He swallowed, and I saw a flash of his teeth.Hah. Got him. “I should say so. May I present my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy? Georgiana, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
She blinked. And was it my imagination, or did a spark of recognition flicker in her eyes at my name? But that would be silly.
“Charmed, Miss Bennet,” she said, dipping a humble curtsey.
“Likewise, Miss Darcy.” I turned lightly to her brother. “Your sister and I were just becoming acquainted over tales of fairies and magic. It seems we both have a weakness for handsome princes and gallant knights.” His sister managed a shy smile and a giggle.
Darcy’s jaw clenched. “As do most young ladies, I’m afraid. If only it could be said that all handsome men were, in fact, princes, and all knights were actually gallant.”
I sent a swift glance to Miss Darcy—it was impossible not to, for she paled suddenly and her eyes fell to the ground.
“What a strange reply, Mr. Darcy. Must you turn everything I say into a personal affront? I was only in jest, after all.”
His jaw flickered with annoyance, but an instant later, he noticed his sister’s discomfort and his entire mien softened.Interesting.
“I believe you misrepresent my words, Miss Elizabeth. I have no wish to argue with you.”
I felt Miss Darcy’s eyes on me as I dipped my head. That was as close to an apology as I was going to get. “Neither do I, Mr. Darcy. I hope you are enjoying your time in London. Miss Bingley wrote that you were all so looking forward to the Season’s festivities.”
His cheek flinched. “Er… Indeed. Did your family come to London with you, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I came with Jane and Charlotte Lucas.”
His brows knit together momentarily, a clear sign of his struggle to keep the conversation flowing. “And where are you staying?”
“With my aunt and uncle in Cheapside,” I answered, almost challenging him with my gaze, expecting a certain disdain.
