His lips pressed into a thin line as he paced about the room.
“What is it?” She pressed him for the information she wanted to hear.
“Are you sure you do not want breakfast?”
“Lord Darcy!” Elizabeth wailed. “Pray, would ye tell me what is bothering ye?”
He swallowed without looking straight at her. “I have to go away until the wedding.”
What?“Why?” She asked, her head snapping up at him as she paused her task of mixing paints on a palette.
“I cannot tell you.”
“Some secret mission into the wilds?” she asked, slightly amused.
He remained silent. Why would that be? What did he have to hide? His prolonged stillness eventually evoked her long-checked temper.
“Ye are quite serious, are you not? Ye really mean to leave before we are to be married?” Her irritation came out in her tone.
“I am afraid I have no choice.”
“You will always have choices, my lord. Unless. . .” It could not be! She huffed in disbelief and threw her mixing tool down. “Unless ye have decided ye are above choices or, perhaps, more to the point, need to maintain choices.”
“Elizabeth, of what are you speaking?”
“Ye are still keeping thy whores, are ye not? My god, sir! It is but two days before we are to wed and ye are bending to the will of a common prostitute. Very well. Make arrangements for thy wedding night. Ye shall not be sharing my bed!”
Her anger ignited his own temper, and he crossed the room to grab her shoulders.
“You were looking for an excuse to say that. Do you think I do not know what is beneath that cloth? It is a portrait of your beloved Saint George, patron of perfection! You speak of choices, Elizabeth, and fidelity, and yet you make no effort to forget your past. I cannot apologize for your fate anymore.”
“As if ye did not have a hand in my fate, ye ruthless scoundrel!”
“I am going to leave now before I regret my words. I had hoped you might give me the benefit of the doubt, but I can see this past month has been nothing but your version of the pretty lies you fill your head with.”
She opened her mouth to speak but closed it immediately. Never before had she been accused of being a liar, and it made her stomach turn that anybody, even the wretched High Lord Darcy, could think such a thing. “Pray leave now. I shall see ye at the wedding.”
He sighed. “Damn it, Elizabeth. I merely wanted to give you the courtesy of informing you of my absence. I did not want to argue about it, though I suspected you would be put out.”
“I cannot talk to ye anymore. I said leave.” She did not like repeating herself.
“Fine.” He spat out the words.
She made certain she was aware of his every movement as he stormed away. Slowly, she uncovered the painting. Should she finish it now? The painted Darcy's eyes were much kinder than the ones that had just looked upon her, his mouth set more sweetly than the irritated one that had been pressed into an ugly frown. Her heart ached when she was reminded of him considering her a liar.
She picked up her brush and continued to work.
* * *
“I am charging you with looking after her while Finn and I are gone,” Darcy said, examining his sword before sheathing it. His voice was cool, as if he was telling Jane to mind his favourite hound.
“I would have regardless, my lord.”
Darcy glanced at her then grabbed his pack. “Very well.” He started to make his way towards the door.
“Are you arguing again?”
Darcy froze for a moment before resuming his path. “Hold your tongue, Jane.”
