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She snorted inelegantly. “You are not my father or my brother. On what conceivable grounds do you forbid it?”
Her obtuseness was infuriating. Darcy grabbed her arms, staring directly into her eyes. “Do you not understand, Elizabeth? I am in love with you!”
Her mouth dropped open, and she gave a ragged gasp of breath.
Oh God, what have I done?
He had not intended to speak those words. They should have remained forever locked behind his lips. Naturally, she knew the truth already, but rightfully such a declaration should be followed by an offer of marriage.
Darcy stifled a groan. Was it possible for their encounter to go even further awry? It was horrible in every possible way.
She did not look like a woman who expected such an offer. She appeared…horrified.
When Darcy believed she cared for another man, he thought it was impossible to feel worse, but now he discovered an even lower circle of hell. Elizabeth had not hoped for a proposal from him. This truth was written plainly over her
features.
Darcy had believed she guessed his sentiments—that she hoped he might declare himself. But she had not the slightest inkling—meaning it was nearly inconceivable that she returned those feelings. What have I done? I just laid my heart on the ground before her, offering to let her smash it with a hammer.
“In…love with me?” she repeated slowly, pushing her way backward on the wide step. “No. No. You cannot be serious.”
It was like a knife to the stomach. She cared for Weston and found Darcy horrific. He shuffled backward down the steps. “Never mind. Let us forget this and never speak of it again.” When his feet encountered the gravel of the drive, Darcy pivoted and set a bruising pace for Netherfield. How could I have been such a fool? Pride has led me into error before, but nothing so egregious as this!
But after only a few steps, Darcy felt a hand on his shoulder. Ignore it! Ignore it, a voice chanted in his mind. But he was too much of a gentleman—or perhaps he had too much foolish hope. Arresting his forward progress, he allowed Elizabeth to circle in front of him while he concentrated on maintaining a neutral expression.
Arms folded over her chest, Elizabeth met his gaze fiercely. “I loathe Mr. Weston,” she said simply. A hundred-pound weight suddenly lifted from Darcy’s shoulders.
“What you observed…yesterday in the courtyard…I sought to delay him while some of the tenants moved the seed drill.”
Darcy could hear Richard protesting women’s need for deception. Of course. Why did I not consider that earlier? She is fooling Collins; naturally, she needs to fool Weston as well. “But he kissed you!” The words tumbled from his mouth, seemingly of their own volition.
She blinked. “Did you witness him kissing me?” she asked slowly.
“I left before—I did not want to watch.”
She grimaced. “Ah, then you did not see when I tangled him in the clothesline and smacked him in the face with a wet shirt.”
“You—? You did that?” This provoked a startled laugh from Darcy. He could vividly picture that scene. “I have been a fool.”
Her lips quirked in a smile. “I would prefer to view it as a credit to my thespian abilities.”
He barked a laugh. “Indeed. I should have guessed. I knew you were concealing secrets from Weston.” Of course, appealing to the man’s vanity was a winning strategy.
Elizabeth cast her eyes downward. “I know you dislike any sort of deception—”
Darcy hurried to interrupt her. “I recently had reason to reconsider my absolute position against falsehood. I have come to realize that sometimes deception is not only useful but necessary.”
For the first time Elizabeth’s expression lightened. Did that mean she cared about his opinion? Desired his approbation?
“I do not live in your circumstances,” Darcy hastened to add. “It would not behoove me to judge you based on my experience of the world.”
Elizabeth’s lips parted, but she appeared at a loss to say anything. Of course, she is shocked. I have done naught but judge her since our first encounter.
“I pray you will forgive my foolishness,” he said in a low voice.
She frowned. “No, I believe you must forgive me. I had not considered whether deceiving Mr. Weston could possibly hurt someone else…”
“There is nothing to forgive,” he murmured.
