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Her mouth dropped open a bit, and he wanted to kiss her again. He did not. The two of them were standing in the hall, and they had already managed to escape discovery once. The way his luck was running of late, he would not risk it.
Elizabeth’s face was very red, and he chuckled again. “You did insist on knowing my thoughts. Perhaps I should refrain from telling you everything.”
She laughed at herself. “I may be shocked occasionally, William, but I would rather know. I have a tendency to think the worst if I do not.”
“Yes,” he told her fondly. “I am aware. Fortunately, I am practiced at saying things I should not.” His gaze fell upon her arm, and he frowned. “Let us retrieve your splint.”
“Can we not send a maid for that?” she asked. “I do not think your aunt would appreciate you entering my chambers.”
He sighed. “We will be wed in less than a day, Elizabeth.”
“Precisely,” she said, her eyes alight with mischief. “We will not be wed until tomorrow.”
Darcy badly wanted to kiss her again. Not just her mouth, but the creamy skin of her neck and her shoulder and . . . Yes. Perhaps Elizabeth was correct.
“Very well,” he said, and reached for the pull. When a young maid arrived, he gave her orders and she hurried away.
They were close to the music room now. Georgiana was playing something by Haydn on the pianoforte. It was in a major key, a relief from the ponderous, melancholy music she had been playing since the summer.
“Oh, that is lovely,” Elizabeth whispered.
“Your playing is lovely, too,” he told her truthfully.
Elizabeth lifted her eyebrows.
“What is it?” he asked, befuddled. Had he not just given her a compliment?
“Either you believe I am requesting that you flatter me,” she replied jauntily, “or you are too much in love to see the truth.” Her mien grew thoughtful. “Oh.” Her breath came a little faster, and when she met his gaze, Darcy felt his heart skip a beat. “I prefer the latter.”
Elizabeth glanced away, and he watched as she lost herself in the music, closing her eyes and swaying a little, her small hands clasped together near her chest as she listened. They stood together in the doorway, nearly touching. His breathing quickened to match the pace of his heart. Her mouth was so close—he could bend down and . . .
The music stopped. “Brother, Miss Bennet, do come in,” Georgiana called.
Elizabeth left him behind as she approached his sister, and Darcy was grateful for the moment to regain his composure.
“Oh, Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said enthusiastically, “how well you play.”
His sister beamed with pleasure, but did not respond. She was still learning to accept such accolades, and not all of them had been genuine.
“I play,” Elizabeth continued gently, “but I am afraid I do not practice as diligently as I should.”
“But my brother says you play delightfully,” Georgiana said, before her cheeks flushed a deep pink. “He wrote me in a letter.”
So Georgiana had read his letters.
Elizabeth laughed. “I think you will agree that delightfully is not the same as well.” She turned to offer him an impish grin.
Georgiana looked amused. “I never thought of that. Still, you cannot play ill if William enjoys it.”
“I will remind him of that the next time I learn a new piece.” Elizabeth laid a hand lightly on Georgiana’s arm. “May I request a great favor?”
“Of course,” Georgiana said.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Will you call me Elizabeth?”
His sister smiled widely, and Darcy’s heart swelled with love for the two most important women in his life. “I would like that, Elizabeth,” his sister answered. “Please, call me Georgiana.”
Elizabeth patted Georgiana’s hand. “Now, I believe you ought to keep playing. Consider it our wedding gift, for I have rarely heard such an accomplished pianist.”
