It was not a broad smile—he doubted he was capable of that—but the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “That is a rather romantic notion, Miss Bennet.”
“And yours is rather dull, Mr. Darcy.”
He let out a soft huff, more amused than annoyed. “Pragmatism is hardly dull. It is the foundation of civilized society.”
“Oh, I do love a good foundation,” she said dryly. “But I prefer when it does not suffocate the house built upon it.”
Before he realized it, the sharp edges of their debate softened, though neither of them fully relinquished the intensity behind their words. There was a spark in her eyes, a glint of challenge that Darcy found—to his utter surprise—diverting.
Georgiana glanced over, her stiff posture relaxing ever so slightly as the tension in the carriage shifted from combative to something else—not quite ease, but no longer brittle.
Darcy caught himself, his lips pressing into a thin line as he tried to reassert the composure that always came so naturally to him. But it was difficult to ignore the fact that, for the first time in recent memory, he felt… engaged.
He had not expected to enjoy their verbal sparring. But now that he had, he was not entirely sure what to make of it.
He was searching for something… more words to provoke her, some way of defending his own thoughts,anything, when Elizabeth suddenly straightened.
“Mr. Darcy, I believe you have passed my uncle’s door.”
Darcy blinked, glancing over his shoulder.Blast, she was right. In the midst of their argument, he had driven them halfway down the street.
He muttered a curse under his breath, flicking the reins to turn at the next street and bring them back round. Heaven only knew how long that would take, and all the while, she was still…veryclose to his side.
Elizabeth bit her lip to hide another laugh, and Darcy found himself both irritated and oddly pleased by her amusement.
When they finally pulled up in front of the Gardiners’ residence, Darcy disembarked quickly, eager to regain some semblance of control over the situation. He extended his hand to Elizabeth without meeting her gaze, but when her gloved fingers slipped into his, something uncomfortably warm bloomed in his chest.
He helped her down carefully, lingering a moment longer than strictly necessary before releasing her hand. A gentleman walked a lady to her door, and Fitzwilliam Darcy was a gentleman… though his thoughts were something of a riot. He cleared his throat and offered his arm. Only a moment more…
At the top of the steps, Elizabeth turned to face him, her expression unexpectedly soft. “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her tone for once free of the usual teasing.
Darcy inclined his head, about to offer a polite farewell, when the words caught in his throat.
He hesitated.
And then, before he could second-guess himself, he blurted, “I have been invited to a soirée tomorrow evening, hosted by Lady Beaufort.”
Elizabeth’s brows lifted slightly, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Have you?”
Darcy cleared his throat again, feeling suddenly foolish. “Yes. And… I hope you will be there as well.”
There was a brief pause—a heartbeat where her eyes searched his face, as if trying to decipher the meaning beneath his carefully chosen words. Then, that smile of hers widened just enough to make his pulse quicken. “I do believe I have an invitation to the same soirée.”
Darcy exhaled, though he was not entirely sure if it was from relief or something else entirely. “How… convenient. I shall see you tomorrow, Miss Bennet.” He gave a short bow, stepping back as she disappeared inside.
The door clicked shut, leaving him standing on the Gardiners’ stoop,thoroughlyunsettled.
And, to his dismay,eagerfor tomorrow evening.
Chapter Fourteen
The glow from LadyBeaufort’s chandeliers spilled into the night, casting long golden streaks along the grand entrance as the Gardiners’ carriage rolled to a stop. Elizabeth peered through the window, her pulse quickening despite her best efforts to remain composed.
The soirée was already in full swing—the sounds of laughter and the faint strains of a quartet drifted out into the evening air. Elizabeth could see the flicker of jewels and silk gowns as elegantly dressed guests swept up the marble steps and disappeared into the house beyond.
Beside her, Mrs. Gardiner adjusted her gloves with a serene expression that Elizabeth envied. Mr. Gardiner offered his niece a reassuring smile.
“Remember, Lizzy,” he murmured as the footman opened the carriage door, “no one here knows you better than you know yourself. Hold your head high.”
