Page 36 of Courting Elizabeth

He stopped at my look.

“Custom is not an answer that will satisfy you.”

“It explains a habit. It does not justify it.”

We walked a few steps in silence.

“Would you like to examine the school accounts and speak with the schoolmistress?” he asked at last.

“Yes. The girls may only have two years to give to their education. That’s a reason to teach them more during that time, not less.”

He inclined his head.

“Then let us see what Pemberley can do better.”

It was the first project I’d considered my own since my arrival.

My desire, however, needed no moral arguments.

It was enough to see him return from a ride.

On the fourth morning, I came down earlier than expected and crossed the gallery overlooking the courtyard. Fitzwilliam had just dismounted. He wore a dark riding coat, open over a shirt with the collar loosened. His hair was windswept. He ran a hand over his horse’s neck, spoke to the groom, then looked up toward the window.

He saw me.

The distance didn’t stop the look from turning intimate.

I remained motionless behind the glass. He removed his gloves finger by finger, never breaking his gaze. The gesture was nothing extraordinary. Yet my body received it as a caress promised.

When he entered the gallery a few minutes later, my cheeks were still warm.

“You’re up early,” he said.

“So are you.”

“I had lands to inspect.”

“Did your shirt suffer for it?”

He looked down at his open collar.

I regretted the question as soon as a slow smile appeared on his lips.

“Does my appearance concern you, Elizabeth?”

“Only because you’ll frighten Mrs Reynolds.”

“Mrs Reynolds has seen me covered in mud more than once. She’ll survive.”

He approached.

I didn’t retreat.

“And you?” he asked.

“I’m not easily frightened.”

“I’ve noticed.”