“Darling, are you hungry?”
She turned to him. He was propped upon one elbow, his head resting in his hand. He was grinning.
He was happy.
“What time is it, sir?”
“Eleven o’clock.”
“I am hungry.”
“Would you prefer breakfast, or a light luncheon of cold meats and bread?”
“Breakfast, if it is not too much trouble.”
“Nothing is too much trouble when desired by Mrs. Darcy.”
She rolled onto her side to face him fully.
“You are very pert this morning, sir.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am. I am in bed beside the most beautiful woman in all England, and she makes me exceedingly happy.”
She laughed, a low, musical sound. “I rather like this version of the gentleman who is usually staid and reserved. A besotted Mr. Darcy is very much to my liking.”
He bent and kissed her. His words vibrated softly against her throat as he murmured in a low, intimate voice, “You are everything lovely and enchanting, my darling. I have longed to hold you thus.”
Elizabeth forgot her hunger, as Mr. Darcy’s devotion exceeded every dream she had cherished.
Chapter 46: The Morton Ball
Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy stood in the receiving line at the Morton Ball. It had been but two weeks since their quiet marriage. Those weeks with him had been glorious. Georgiana had returned to Darcy House two days earlier, and Elizabeth felt the constraint of a third person in the household, a young girl requiring care and entertainment, while her greatest desire was to enjoy solitude with Mr. Darcy.
The line advanced, and her attention returned to the present. The introductions to the Mortons were performed, and as they entered the great hall, Lady Helen drew near to Elizabeth and said, “Lady Morton’s daughter fixed her eye upon Fitzwilliam long ago, my dear. Both mother and daughter intended to secure him for themselves by any means available. I am exceedingly pleased Fitzwilliam has escaped the designs of that calculating woman.”
Elizabeth whispered, “Do you mean they intended a compromise?”
“Yes, my dear. Lady Sophia first learned of it through her maid, but the matter spread so widely that she eventually heard it from three separate sources. I daresay Fitzwilliam would have escaped the trap even had he not married, but he stands well clear of that connection now. It is widely understood that Miss Morton has been about the town.”
“Been about the town?”
“Yes, you understand me. With gentlemen.”
“Indeed? Poor Fitzwilliam, had he been shackled to such a woman.”
“Yes, it would have ruined his life. He would never know whether a child belonged to him or to one of her lovers. But at three and twenty she has borne no children. Perhaps she cannot conceive.”
Elizabeth fell silent as she considered Miss Morton’s designs on Fitzwilliam.
“Or she may insist upon the use of French letters,” Lady Helen added as an afterthought.
Elizabeth raised a brow and resolved to ask her husband what French letters were and what purpose they served.
When they entered the ballroom proper, she was transfixed by the beauty of the decor. No expense had been spared. Candlelight glittered upon jewels and silk, and gowns shimmered in every shade beneath the sun. A dreaded voice dragged her back into the cold, dark world that contained Lord Dunwich.
His head bent so near that his lips almost brushed her ear. “You are lovelier than I remembered. The lovely innocent, awaiting a lover who will claim her virtue.”
She recoiled, brushing against Mr. Darcy’s arm. He broke off his conversation with Lady Helen and placed a hand against Elizabeth’s back to steady her. “Darling, are you unwell?”
