“I told you, I understand the consequences—”
“No,” he cut in, voice ragged. “You trust me. That is not the same thing.”
She blinked, and her mouth dropped open for a half a heartbeat.
“Idotrust you. And I know you are not a cad, but perhaps just this once, you should try acting like one. If you took me to your bed now, it would not be out of vanity or cruelty. I know that. I knowyou. And if you are right—if it meant your name restored, your family redeemed, your home returned—then perhaps I should let you. Perhaps the exchange would be worth it.”
A bitter sound escaped his throat—half laugh, half groan.
“You think I have not thought of that?” he muttered. “That I have not imagined exactly how the Prince would react—how loudly he would laugh first, and then quickly he would declare his 'suspicions' laid to rest? How easily the path would clear if I gave him his entertainment?”
“But we could marry! No scandal, no… consequences to regret.”
Darcy’s heart lurched. She would have him? Inthatway, as well asthis?Oh, how he had longed for… for even a kind word from her, but she was offering her entire self, all her future, forhim?He closed his eyes and balled his fist, clenching it against his teeth to prevent himself from blurting out a“God, yes!”
Instead, he hung his head, shaking it. “Your father would send you to Scotland first. You would bear my bastard in disgrace and he would hide the child and cover it all, or sell you to the nearest lord in need of an heir before he would consider… It is impossible, Elizabeth.”
“I… I can choose whom I please when I come of age…”
Darcy chuckled bitterly. “Next March? I am afraid that would be too late.”
He turned toward her, but not fully. “It is no good, Elizabeth. I promised myself, from the first moment the Prince assigned me this task, I would not use you. I would not… trade you. I cannot buy back what was lost by harming what is most precious to me.”
Silence.
Not confusion, this time.
Suspicion.
He heard her drawing closer, could almost feel the air stir as she sucked in a gasp. “What do you mean by that?”
Darcy turned slowly. The sight of her—eyes wide with hurt, lips parted in confusion—struck him with a force that nearly stole his breath. He clenched his jaw, swallowing the emotion that threatened to overtake him.
“What I mean,” he began, staring at the floor so he would not look at her face, “is that you were right.”
“Right? About what?”
He let the air out of his lungs slowly, his eyes searching hers. “That day outside Longbourn, when I confronted you about wandering from the safety of the house... you guessed not only that this was personal for me, but that I knew of you long before we met. That is… not the full truth.”
He paused, a bitter smile touching his lips. “At the time, I retorted that everyone knew you—the daughter of a marquess with a dowry substantial enough to feed all of London for a year. Everyone was competing for your hand, yet you had satisfied none of them. You were the constant subject of society pages, with endless speculation about whom you would choose.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Yes, I remember. But that was not all?”
Darcy shook his head, his expression pained. “No. I first saw you at a ball. I declined an introduction. Refused a chance to dance with you.”
She blinked, a little surprise flickering across her face before she smiled. “That does not astound me. I have always thought you the sort who would despise dancing.”
He managed a faint grunt. “It is true, I have never been fond of it. But that was not the reason.”
He turned away, running a hand through his hair. “My aunt, Lady Matlock, advised me to marry an heiress. She believed that was the surest way to restore some of our family’s dignity. I loathed the idea of trying to rebuild my family on the back of another like that… but I had Georgiana to consider. I could not easily dismiss my aunt’s counsel, so, I accepted her invitation to a ball. It was last year, early spring—one of the first balls of the Season.”
Elizabeth squinted, and then a wrinkle appeared at the edge of her mouth. “Lady Matlock? I remember that ball. I wore a gold gown the Duchess of Wrexham helped to design—gold silk with a ridiculous number of rosettes. My hair would not stay pinned, and Lady Henshawe made my maid redo it twice before we even left.”
He nodded, a distant look in his eyes. “It shimmered like liquid gold in the candle light. I remember, it was shortly after you made your curtsey to the Queen.”
She let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “The first ball I attended after that, yes. You do have an excellent memory. I went with Charlotte and her mother, and we were nearly turned away at the door because someone forgot the invitation. I danced with Lord Densmore—who stepped on my foot—and then with Captain Harcourt, who would not stop talking about the weather.” She tilted her head. “But I have no memory of Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
Darcy swallowed. “No… you would not have. My aunt introduced me to numerous young ladies that evening—all respectable, many beautiful and well-dowered. I even considered asking one or two to dance. Your name was on everyone’s lips before you even arrived—so much speculation about you and maybe one or two others who were expected to make an appearance that evening.”
