Page 100 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

She looked at him in mild affront.

“You would not have thought so, however, as it was cooked in a ginger sauce.”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust, and he chuckled.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. You have done me a great service.”

“Perhaps you will do me one?” They had already been speaking privately while their friends and her relations carried on their own conversations beside them, but now he spoke even more faintly, bending near her ear. She shivered at his closeness and at the feel of his warm breath on her face.

“As I told you last night, I leave London on Wednesday morning. Would you be able to meet me at Dutton’s on Tuesday afternoon? Perhaps three o’clock?” He backed up to watch her face for her reply.

She was stunned. They had walked to the circulating library on Gracechurch Street before, but he had called for her, and they had walked together. What was he suggesting?

“With Matthew, of course!”

She hoped Mr. Darcy had amended his invitation because he had seen confusion and not a tremor of excitement. It would be mortifying for him to think she cared for him as more than a friend—or that she would agree to a secret assignation. She was ashamed to have thought of it.

“Oh, yes. Certainly. Tuesday at three. Yes, we will be there.”

“Excellent.” Mr. Darcy smiled and moved to join her uncle’s conversation with Mr. Bingley, and she turned back to her aunt.

Darcy sat in a plush chair with a good view of the entrance to the circulating library. He perused a newspaper while keeping an eye on the patrons entering. He felt the corners of his lips lift as she walked in, Matthew a step behind her. Elizabeth had not seen him yet, so he stood, but the proprietor of the library claimed her attention before he could.

“Miss Bennet, I am delighted you have come today.”

Darcy’s hackles rose. The man behind the counter was perhaps two- or three-and-twenty and clearly too interested in Elizabeth. He had not been here the first time Darcy had come to Dutton’s with Elizabeth, but he knew she came often for reading materials.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Shaw. How is your father today?”

“Very well, Miss Bennet. He was in this morning. Um.” The young Mr. Shaw cleared his throat. “I found a book I think you will want to read.”

“Oh? What is it?”

Darcy moved to stand beside Elizabeth, having had enough of this Mr. Shaw’s foolish grin. His heart skipped when Elizabeth looked up to his eyes and smiled. She placed her hand on his forearm briefly as she greeted him. Was she also sending Mr. Shaw a message that she was uninterested in his attentions? This close to her, he breathed in her familiar lavender scent.

“Mr. Darcy, I did not see you. Have you been waiting long?”

“I would have waited all afternoon for you,” he teased, playing along, “but no, I have been here less than a quarter of an hour, and you are right on time.”

She smirked at him, understanding his playfulness. How he wished she would take him for his word. No, not yet. He would reveal his feelings soon enough.

“Forgive me, Mr. Shaw. You found a book for me?”

“Um.” The man cleared his throat again, and the downcast look on his face as he glanced between her and Darcy almost made him feel sorry for the man. In reality, he was likely an excellent match for a woman of Elizabeth’s station. It was unfortunate for him, then, that Darcy planned to marry her. “A moment, Miss Bennet. I will retrieve the volume.”

He turned to the shelves behind him, and Darcy looked down at Elizabeth again. He wished she would place her small hand on his arm again. He was about to step closer to her—only for Mr. Shaw’s sake, of course—when he saw Matthew staring intently at him from a few feet to Elizabeth’s other side. Darcy told himself he was grateful for the protective presence the footman gave. He had certainly been a timely reminder to maintain his control. Darcy nodded and retreated half a step instead.

Mr. Shaw turned back and placed a slim yellow book on the counter. Elizabeth opened it and smiled up at the proprietor.

“An Egyptology book! Thank you, Mr. Shaw.”

Darcy barely had time to note the man’s face and ears turning red before she turned to him.

“Look, Mr. Darcy. Do you see these markings?”

He smiled at her excitement and nodded to Mr. Shaw before gently pressing her lower back to guide her to a settee out of Mr. Shaw’s view. They sat, and she exclaimed over the hieroglyphs and map on the frontispiece.

“Have you heard of the new exhibit at the British Museum? Uncle Gardiner applied for tickets, but of course he was denied. We heard they have a stone with real hieroglyphs on it!”