Darcy froze.
Elizabeth’s smile wavered, but only slightly. “Not at all,” she replied, her voice warm despite the sting of Georgiana’s words. “In fact, I find London very much like the countryside—full of people with their own small intrigues, eager to mind everyone’s business but their own.”
Darcy felt the heat rise in his neck. “Georgiana,” he said sharply, “that was unnecessary.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened, her lips parting as if she might defend herself, but Darcy’s glare silenced her.
“Do not trouble yourself, Mr. Darcy,” she said lightly. “I rather like a bit of impertinence. It shows a quick mind.”
Darcy’s irritation shifted, replaced by something else—a reluctant appreciation. Elizabeth’s grace in the face of his sister’s rudeness was… unexpected. And disarming.
“Miss Bennet,” he began, but she waved him off with a soft laugh.
“I assure you, Mr. Darcy, it is quite unnecessary.” She turned slightly, glancing toward the path ahead. “But I will take my leave now. I would not wish to interrupt your afternoon.”
Before he could protest, she dipped her head in farewell and continued down the path, her steps unhurried, her posture untouched by the awkwardness she left behind.
Darcy watched her go, the curve of her retreating figure lingering in his mind longer than he cared to admit.
Beside him, Georgiana shifted uncomfortably. “I… did not mean to be rude,” she muttered, her voice small.
“Youwererude,“ Darcy said, his tone softer now but firm. “And you owe her better manners if you wish to be treated with respect in return.”
Georgiana’s shoulders slumped, and for the first time that day, she looked truly chastened.
Darcy exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest refusing to ease. Miss Bennet was proving to be more than just a reluctant partner in his uncle’s scheme. She was becoming…complicated.
And complications were the last thing he needed.
Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth’s steps were lightas she walked away from the Darcys, her spine straight, her chin lifted just enough to appear entirely unaffected.
But inside?
She was fairlyglowing.
It seemed that Mr. Perfect Darcy had a flaw after all—a very human, veryunmanageablelittle sister. Georgiana Darcy might have been quiet and composed at first glance, but her sharp remark had slipped out like a crack in the polished veneer of Darcy’s world.
Andhehad been mortified.
Elizabeth replayed the scene in her head, savoring the memory of Darcy’s tightly clenched jaw, the faint flush creeping up his neck. It was gratifying, in a strange way, to see the ever-composed Mr. Darcy so thoroughly unsettled. By the look he had shot his sister, that little bit of bad behavior was not unique.
Perhaps he is not as untouchable as he appears.
She almost laughed out loud at the thought.
By the time she neared the park’s outer paths, she was already crafting in her mind how she might recount the story to her aunt. Mrs. Gardiner would be delighted to hear that the illustrious Mr. Darcy had family troubles of his own.
But even as she imagined the conversation, something nagged at her. Was it really fair to mock him for struggling with his sister? After all, Georgiana Darcy was obviously still very young—probably about Kitty's age—and Elizabeth knew better than anyone how difficult younger sisters could be.
Her smile faded slightly. Perhaps it would be better to keep this little discovery to herself.
She was just about to dismiss the whole matter when the faint rumble of carriage wheels behind her caught her attention. The sound grew louder, closer. She stepped to the sideof the path, expecting the carriage to pass. But instead, it slowed. Her heart gave a small, inexplicable flutter as she turned.
Of course.
Mr. Darcy.
