Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
Well,she thought wryly,this is certainly the most awkward ride of my life.
And yet, as the carriage rumbled through the streets of London, she could not help but feel a strange, inexplicable thrill. For all his pride and propriety, Mr. Darcy was not nearly as unshakable as he liked to appear.
And she, Elizabeth Bennet—country girl, scandal magnet, and perpetual thorn in his side—was right at the heart of his discomfort.
The moment Elizabeth Bennetsettled into the narrow space between him and Georgiana, Darcy regrettedeverything.
Her shoulder brushed his with every rock and jiggle of the carriage wheels. The proximity was entirely inappropriate, entirely uncomfortable, and yet, there was nothing to be done. Georgiana had at first refused to give way for Miss Bennet, but then, after a moment of jostling, had wedged herself as far against the opposite side as possible—presumably to keep from touching the lady’s slightly soiled walking gown. But it did little good, for there were far too few inches to be had on that seat.
Darcy cleared his throat.
Elizabeth Bennet, of course, seemedperfectlyat ease. Worse, that quirk to her lip almost looked as if she were silently laughing. Probably at him.
He could not let this stand.
“You walk often in Hyde Park,” he said abruptly, his voice sharper than intended.
She turned to him, her brow lifting in innocent curiosity. “I do. I find it quite refreshing.”
“Alone,” he clarified, unable to keep the disapproval from his tone.
Elizabeth’s lips curved faintly. “We have canvassed this topic already, Mr. Darcy. I find the solitude most enjoyable.”
Darcy’s jaw clenched. “It is highly improper.”
“I suppose that depends on one’s perspective. I find London society’s obsession with propriety somewhat tedious.”
His brow shot up. “Tedious?”
“Yes.” She met his gaze without flinching. “It seems to me that too much attention is paid to appearances and not enough to substance.”
Darcy could scarcely believe his ears. “Appearances exist for a reason, Miss Bennet. They maintain order in society.”
“Order?” She arched an eyebrow. “Or control?”
He turned to her fully now, ignoring the way their knees brushed as the carriage took a turn. “Control is necessary to prevent chaos.”
“And yet,” she countered, “too much control stifles growth. Progress often comes from those willing to challenge the established order.”
“Progress?” His voice hardened slightly. “Progress without restraint leads to disorder. Look at France.”
Elizabeth’s eyes gleamed. “France? I suppose revolution does frighten those with something to lose.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “And I suppose recklessness appeals to those with nothing at stake.”
Elizabeth’s smile sharpened. “Oh, I have plenty at stake, Mr. Darcy. I simply refuse to live my life caged by the opinions of people whose approval I do not seek.”
“Then you are fortunate,” he shot back, “to have the luxury of such defiance. Not everyone can afford to disregard society’s judgment.”
“And yet you do,” she said, leaning slightly closer. “You move through the world as though the rules do not apply to you. Or are they only meant for the rest of us?”
Darcy stared at her, the spark of debate igniting something unexpected in his chest. “You would prefer anarchy, then?”
“I preferfreedom,“ she corrected. “The freedom to think, to speak, to act without constant fear of scandal.”
That was the one notion in all her senseless posturing that he could agree with. Although, he suspected she had said most of it because she knew it would raise his hackles. But despite it all, Darcy found himself… smiling.
