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“They will be delighted. I do not know why you are not happier.”

‘None of the three are handsome enough to tempt me,’ echoed through Elizabeth’s mind, followed by, ‘Tempt me no further.’ What a confusing gentleman. “Maybe I am simply tired after a long evening as well.”

“Maybe,” Kitty agreed. “Come, let us join Mama. I will endure my scolding before we are confined to the carriage.”

Elizabeth nodded and set off through the crowd with her sister, unable not to search for Mr. Darcy. She sighted the Lucases gathering to one side of the entrance hall, and the remainder of Mr. Bingley’s party, the Archers hanging about them, but not Mr. Darcy. Did he remain outside? Lurking in wait for other short, dark-haired ladies?

She did not care. Jane needed her. She had no time to ponder Mr. Darcy’s behavior, and no desire to.

And she definitely, most assuredly, must keep from brushing her fingers across her lips, to feel the memory of his kiss.

Chapter Twelve

In the dim light of a new day, Elizabeth woke dreaming of Mr. Darcy’s kiss, and frowned. She ought not dream of kissing anyone, let alone someone who, apparently, couldn’t distinguish her from her sisters. Someone who turned his back on her after physically setting her away from him, and then growled at her not to give breath to the feelings churning through her. A man like that did not deserve a place in her dreams.

Unfortunately, he’d occupied them ever since she glimpsed him weeks ago, and kissing him only seemed to cement his place. What a terrible twist of fate, to actually meet her carriage-man, then discover him to be a horrendous excuse for a gentleman. Not kind or intelligent. Simply a handsome face covering a rotten core.

Too handsome, now that she considered it. No man had a right to be that appealing, let alone one who was an inconsiderate boor. She should have known someone who traveled in a carriage that fine and looked that good would not be a kind person.

Not that she could entirely blame him for her waking up at the crack of dawn with a smile on her lips. She, after all, had kissed him. After taking complete leave of her senses.

Determined to seek a bit more rest, this time free of Mr. Darcy, she snuggled down into her bed, closed her eyes, and drew in a deep breath. Warmth, safety, and quiet enveloped her. From the other side of the room, the familiar cadence of Jane’s slumbering inhales and exhales soothed. Elizabeth drifted to sleep.

And into Mr. Darcy’s strong, jacket-clad arms. When they’d kissed, his face had been cloaked in shadow, but now, in her dream, they stood in a sunny meadow and his smile as he gazed down at her held the warmth of love. He cupped her face, and lowered his head. Elizabeth strained on her toes to meet him. Heady elation filled her until her joy threatened to spill forth in the form of laughter and ruin their kiss.

The next time Elizabeth woke, sunlight streamed around her. She blinked, pressing away visions of picnicking with Mr. Darcy until she realized she lay abed still. Across the room, Jane spotted her in the mirror of their dressing table, where she sat pinning her hair.

“You are finally awake.”

Elizabeth sat up. “What time is it?”

“Past eight. I was about to go down to breakfast without you.”

“Do not let me keep you. I will be along soon.”

Jane secured a final curl, then turned in the dressing table chair. “You were smiling in your sleep.”

“It was a pleasant dream.” Elizabeth yanked her thoughts away from how pleasant, lest she blush. And the dream was not truly pleasant, for kissing such an unsavory gentleman could not be.

Could it?

Heat crept up her neck.

Jane let out a sigh, seeming almost to shrink, her shoulders slumping. “I did not have pleasant dreams. I kept seeing Mr. Bingley crossing the room to ask me to dance, and Archer women appearing to intercept him.”

“I am certain Mr. Bingley saw how absolutely lovely you are.”

“They are lovely, too.” Jane sighed again.

“Only superficially.” Like Mr. Darcy. He and Miss Archer deserved one another. “Come, help me with my hair and then you can go down to breakfast and I will catch up.”

Mustering a smile, Jane nodded.

Elizabeth took her sister’s place in the chair. As Jane began unbraiding her hair, her sorrow evident in her reflection, Elizabeth ventured, “I wonder if Kitty’s toes are black and blue.”

“Kitty’s toes?”

“Apparently Mr. Collins stomped on them innumerable times.”