He blinked. “You’re askingme?Egad. Absolutely not.”
“But why not? You are not engaged elsewhere, are you?”
One of his eyebrows quirked. “Not at present.”
“And you are tall, dark, and I suppose notunhandsome.”
“Thank you,” he retorted dryly.
“And youarea man…”
“Last I looked in the mirror.”
“Oh, no, I mean the noble and charismatic sort. The kind of man who would probably not slobber on her cheek or try to put your hands… well. It would not be a punishment for her to kiss you.”
“What a compliment.”
“So? Will you do it?”
He shook his head, a smile widening on his face. “Not in a hundred lifetimes.”
“But why? It is just a silly little thing. A meaningless game—why it’s only tradition!”
“If it is so meaningless, why do you work so hard to bring it about?”
I crossed my arms. “Itoldyou why. She may never have another chance to feel what a kiss is like. And I cannot imagine it would be that novel of a thing for someone like you.”
“You do not know me very well, then.”
I sighed and let my arms drop. “Oh, very well. I suppose it was worth trying. I think she is ready to give up, anyway. The way she was talking a little while ago… I will own it, I am terrified for her.”
Darcy nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. My cheeks grew warm under his penetrating gaze. “Miss Elizabeth, your loyalty to your friend is admirable. But have you considered what Miss Lucas truly needs in her final days?”
His question gave me pause. “What do you mean?”
“Perhaps what would bring her comfort is not a kiss from a stranger, but time with her dearest friend.”
I pondered his words. Could he be right? “You sound very much like my aunt when she counseled me earlier, Mr. Darcy,” I conceded softly.
He smiled, the purest, most radiant smile I had seen from him. My breath caught again, but this time not from anger. “I believe I quite like your aunt, then. But we have been gone long enough, and someone is bound to miss us. Shall we return to the party?” He offered his arm. After a moment’s hesitation, I took it.
“Darcy! It is about time, my good fellow.”
I blinked against the dazzling light of the ballroom as we turned toward the door together. Mr. Bingley was bounding towards us, his cheerful countenance lighting up the dim hallway.
“I was wondering if you two meant to emerge! I thought you were plucking all the berries.”
Mr. Darcy’s brow puckered, and he glanced at me in curiosity. “What is the meaning of this, Bingley?”
“Oh, not ready to come up for air yet? Well! Far be it from me to—“
“Mr. Bingley, I do not understand,” I pleaded. “What are you talking about?”
“Why, you need only look up once in a while. I say, Darcy, I have never known you to be so careless.”
Mr. Darcy sent a scandalized look above his head, and I heard a deep groan. “Thatwas not there earlier.”
“Indeed not,” Mr. Bingley agreed, “but that never stopped you from noticing such shenanigans before. It appears some enterprising soul has hung mistletoe right above the door to the hallway where you presently stand. I’ve had to run off no less than three enthusiastic young ladies lining up for their turn—one of them being my sister,” he finished with a low voice and his hand shielding his mouth. “So, here now. Do you mean to tell me you have not done your duty by the lady yet?”
