“But if that were the case, why did you not simply hunt her down yourself? Why wasshenot Isobel McLean’s heir? Why do I have any part in this?”
“How was I tae find her mesel’? I neededyefor that, lad.”
I shook my head. “Why?”
Ewan rolled his eyes. “Are ye deaf as well as blind? Because she’s yourdìthchail. Ye and her, yer fates are bound—two lives linked across time, meant tae meet. It’s no’ a choice, no’ a passing fancy. It’s in the blood, in the spirit. Elspeth’s essence found its way tae Elizabeth, just as ye were meant tae find her.”
I stood there, reeling. My mouth opened to speak, but no words came.Her?Elizabeth? My mind stumbled over itself, trying to grasp the enormity of what Ewan had just said. Fated? Bound by some ancient connection to his long-dead lover? I didn’t evenbelieveany of this stuff, and yet, here I was, entertaining it!
“What if I don’t want any part of this?” I shot back. “What if I don’t want to become… whatever it is…boundto Miss Bennet?”
“Too late fer that, laddie. She’s meant fer ye, an’ if ye’d just pull yer heid outta yer arse, ye’d see ye’ve already gone an’ handed that wee sassenach heart o’ yers tae the lass.”
I swallowed, but my throat wouldn’t work. Blinked until my eyes were dry, and struggled for breath until there were spots in my vision. Ewan thoughtI… andElizabeth…?
Heaven and earth. This whole time, I had thought I was the one tied to Ewan’s fate, that I had been caught in the middle of some cosmic joke. But no—Elizabeth. It had always been her.
“You… you could have told me this from the start,” I managed, though my voice came out somewhat strangled. My pulse hammered in my ears, and heat crept up the back of my neck, embarrassment warring with confusion.
I’d dealt with Ewan’s interference before, his relentless schemes and cryptic nonsense, but this? This was beyond anything I could possibly imagine. Elizabeth—myElizabeth—was somehow tied to this tangled web of fate? It was absurd. Impossible.
And yet...
I swallowed hard, my gaze drifting to the window where the last traces of daylight bled into dusk. Some part of me—some ridiculous, utterly foolish part of me—was intrigued. Drawn in by the thought of it. Could it be true? Was there some reason beyond mere attraction that I couldn’t seem to get her out of my mind, that no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, she was the one I...
No. I clenched my jaw, forcing the thought back. This was Ewan’s madness, not mine. And yet the idea pulsed there, at the back of my mind, as if teasing me with some truth I wasn’t ready to accept.
“Tell ye? And ruin all the fun?” He quirked a brow, though it lacked its usual mischief. “Ach, ye wouldn’t ha’ believed me anyhow. Ye don’t even believe me now, do ye?”
The blighter was right. I… I was in love with Elizabeth Bennet. And it took some miscreant figment of my imagination… or whatever he was… to make me realize it.
“And the ball,” I muttered, my voice tight. “What happens at the ball?”
Ewan’s grin returned, a glint of that old mischief creeping back into his eyes. “Ah, lad, that’s where it gets interesting.”
I groaned, running a hand through my wet hair. “You know, I’m starting to hate that grin.”
He winked at me. “Ye’ll see soon enough.”
Twenty-Seven
Elizabeth
Mr. Collins cleared histhroat in the drawing room, and I immediately braced myself. There was no escaping him this time. The rest of the household was busy elsewhere, and the moment he approached me, I knew exactly what was about to happen.
“Cousin Elizabeth,” he began, puffing his chest up as though Lady Catherine herself had placed a medal of valor upon it, “I trust you understand why I wish to speak with you in private.”
I suppressed a sigh, pasting on my most patient smile. “Mr. Collins, I do believe I have an inkling.”
His chest inflated even further, if such a thing were possible. “Indeed, indeed. I am sure you are not unaware of the...admiration I hold for you. And I come now with an offer that I believe you will find most advantageous—”
Ah, there it was. The moment I had been dreading, unfolding before me like one of those awful plays where the ending is known from the start, but one is forced to sit through it anyway.
“Miss Bennet, it is with the greatest respect and the mostardentaffection that I humbly offer you my hand in marriage,” he declared, beaming as though he’d just handed me the keys to a kingdom.
“Oh, Mr. Collins,” I began, voice dripping with sincerity, “I am truly honored that you would even consider me for such a position. But...” I paused, glancing down as if I were filled with doubt. “I fear I may not live up to the high expectations that Lady Catherine de Bourgh surely has for your future wife.”
His smile faltered. “I... beg your pardon?”
