Darcy & Elizabeth: Hope of the Future: Darcy Saga Prequel Duo Book 2

by Sharon Lathan

  Then he dropped his gaze to linger upon her recently kiss-smothered chest.

  “On second thought,” she blurted, “you being clumsy and inept has a certain charm I rather like.”

  “I pray you are not describing the kiss itself?” His resonant purr and smoky-blue eyes made her shiver. He pressed one hand to her cheek, fingertips embedding into the curls by her ear, and drew her close. “I cannot claim great practice in that activity either, but have been under the impression we were doing well. Was I mistaken?”

  “No, you are not mistaken at all. Although I do anticipate we will improve with practice.”

  “I, for one, will greatly enjoy testing that theory.” And before she could manage a nod of agreement, he was proving how true this was. He kept the kiss short—much to Lizzy’s chagrin—pulling away to settle casually into the sofa corner. Grasping onto her hand, he smiled and asked, “Did you bribe my butler, or was he a willing participant in this deception?”

  “The latter. I could be mistaken, but I sense a cheekiness hidden under the proper exterior.”

  “You are not mistaken. He has served as my butler for over a decade, and as underbutler prior to his advancement for longer than I can remember. He is an excellent manager and a good man. His air of humor is familiar and comfortable, having known him for so long. He is professional, yet, unlike Mr. Taylor at Pemberley, Mr. Travers has a lighter side that the staff responds well to. They appreciate his humor—except for Mrs. Smyth,” he confided with a mischievous chuckle. “It drives her insane. Not that she has ever said a word to me against him, but I detect the currents.”

  “You surprise me, Mr. Darcy.”

  “In what way?”

  “I would not have suspected you to be tolerant of anything less than strict discipline amongst your staff. I mean no offense yet must confess my image was of you as more controlling. Now I see clearer what Mrs. Reynolds meant in her exalting praise of you as a master.”

  “She is a kind woman,” he replied in an embarrassed mumble. “No, I am not offended, my dear. I suppose if not for my grandfather I probably would be more controlling. His leadership style and belief were that, in general, servants and tenants want a master who sets the rules, listens to their concerns, assists when necessary, but otherwise leaves them alone to do their jobs. What do I know about being a butler? Or cook? Or farmer for that matter? Even in those areas I do have more knowledge, specifically our horses, I respect the experience of the grooms and breeders who live and breathe thoroughbreds. Hire capable people, my grandfather said, then you can sit back and relax. Not that he ever relaxed.”

  “Nor do you, I suspect.”

  He shrugged. “Too much relaxation makes one fat and dulls the wits. My expectations for my sex are more stringent than those for yours, if you can believe it.” Lizzy laughed as she nodded. “On the subject of accomplished women, did my sister perform brilliantly as hostess today?”

  “Beyond brilliant.” Lizzy described their afternoon, up to and including Georgiana’s humorous remembrance of meeting Mr. Bingley for the first time. “She is a dear girl, William. Truly. I am grateful for today’s opportunity to know her better.”

  “Georgie was nervous. We share the common flaw of not easily conversing with unfamiliar people. As you have wisely noted numerous times, practice is the key to improvement.” His salacious grin let her know he was not referring only to conversation. “This afternoon provided an opportunity for my sister, as well as for me.”

  “I detected scant nervousness and conversation was never a problem.” Lizzy wisely left the kissing-practice reference alone. “My conclusion is that neither of you is as flawed as you think.”

  “I will concede this is partially true. Except for when around beautiful women I want to impress.”

  “Women?” She stressed the plural and raised one eyebrow.

  “Yes, sadly. Although with you I was especially tongue-tied and horrid when I did speak.”

  “Well, you are managing quite capably now, Mr. Darcy, and since you no longer need to impress other women, future interactions promise smoother sailing.”

  If he discerned the sharp edge to her tone, he did not comment on it. Instead, he slapped one hand onto his thigh, declaring as he rose from the sofa, “Speaking of impressing people and ease in conversation, I have an invitation to share. My uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Matlock, are lately arrived in London and have expressed a desire to meet the woman who has captured my heart. They have invited us, and Mr. Bennet, of course, to dine with them tomorrow. They have a townhouse on Saint James’s Square…”

  He rambled on, Lizzy watching him sift through several papers on his desk before selecting a folded foolscap with a broken wax seal. Presumably it was the invitation, but Lizzy’s attention wandered to the view of his backside, as it was the first time she’d seen it uncovered by his jacket.

  She had never exhibited interest in a gentleman’s posterior and, like many revelations during the past weeks, was amazed how enticing the angle. Even as she lost herself in the emotions stirred by her fiancé’s masculine figure, an academic portion of her brain analyzed whether it was his form causing her heart to pound or merely maturity and awakening desires in a general sense.

  Then he bent over to grab the ledger off the floor, the fabric tightening and outlining his firm buttocks and muscled back in a highly pleasant manner, and the answer was immediately clear. Realizing how ridiculous the question was in the first place, Lizzy nearly laughed aloud. She did not have to clinically line up a dozen jacketless men bending at the waist to know that none of them would affect her as William did.

  The direction of her gaze did not shift speedily enough when he pivoted about, so her expression undoubtedly revealed at least a portion of her musings. Darcy’s commentary—which Lizzy had not heard a word of—faltered slightly and a faint rosiness spread across his cheeks. He said nothing about her intimate ogling, thankfully, handing the invitation to her while resuming his report.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam plans to join the party. Thus, the group will consist of only eight. Hardly an intimidating number for one with your dexterity in social situations.”

  “Eight?” Lizzy blurted, perceiving when he lifted one brow that, by asking, she revealed her previous inattention. Warmth flooded her cheeks, the heat rising at his amused reply.

  “Did you arrive at a different calculation? I believe I correctly applied the mathematics, but perhaps I was mistaken. Let’s see, the list includes you, me, Mr. Bennet, and Colonel Fitzwilliam. That is four. My cousin Annabella and her husband have a prior engagement, so we cannot count them. Lord and Lady Matlock make six, and with my cousin Jonathan and his wife the number rises to eight. Yes?”

  “I think I like the taciturn, humorless Mr. Darcy better.”

  Laughing, Darcy crossed to the corner coat rack. “He is still here, trust me, and you shall see him often enough if that is any consolation.” Jacket donned, he set to retying his cravat, doing so deftly while stepping to his desk. “Additionally, I received a missive from Mrs. Reynolds today. Included in her report were specificities I am to obtain directly from you to ensure meeting your needs.”

  Rifling once again through the stack of papers until he found the one he wanted, Darcy then turned back toward her. “I do pray, Miss Elizabeth, we can supply the information for Mrs. Reynolds without fretful expressions of inconveniencing the Pemberley staff?”

  Noting his smile and glittering eyes, Lizzy lifted her chin and crossed her arms. “That depends, Mr. Darcy. Is this a ploy to uncover personal details you are too polite to ask or I refuse to divulge?”

  “Not this time. My housekeeper acted on her own, I promise, and you can write directly to her with your responses—those you wish to divulge, that is.”

  He handed the folded paper to her, maintaining his hold and bending closer. “Besides, if I really want to know your foot measurements,” he whispered, the reference to a tease from Kitty regarding Lizzy’s not-so-tiny feet that
had embarrassed her profoundly, “I would simply ask your mother.” Briefly glancing down at the slippered toes she rapidly tucked behind the hem of her dress, he added, “I am sure Mrs. Bennet has a wealth of fascinating minutiae about her spirited child and would not hesitate to enlighten me. Luckily for you, my love, I prefer the adventure of self-discovery.” And with that, he winked.

  She was so surprised at the atypical gesture that she missed responding to the soft kiss he delivered to the tip of her nose and nearly dropped Mrs. Reynolds’s letter when he let go of it.

  “My,” she stammered, “you are quite the imp today.”

  “Being diverted pleasantly from dull paperwork and columns of mathematics is a surefire way to improve my temper.”

  “Here I thought you lived for paperwork and excelled at mathematics. Shocking.”

  “I am brilliant at mathematics,” he declared pompously, “but that does not mean I enjoy them. Frankly, they give me a headache. At any rate, passing the time with you is far superior to anything else. That unquestionably clarified,”—he extended his hand—“I must reluctantly return you to my sister. Suffering her verbal irritation for stealing away her guest will also give me a headache.”

  Lizzy took his hand, standing as she asked, “You will walk with us for a while? Or must you return to your ledger?”

  “A stroll about the garden sounds utterly delightful, and it gives me an opportunity to remain in your company. I am far too selfish to give Georgiana all the joy, especially since I shan’t see you again until late tomorrow.”

  He linked her arm with his and steered them toward the library door. “Thank you again, Elizabeth, for understanding why I cannot dine with you tonight.”

  “Well, it is unfathomable that you have friends beyond me and those in Hertfordshire. Who would have thought?”

  Darcy smiled at her tease. “Once we are married you will socialize with more of my friends and acquaintances than you will probably want to. Even then, anguishing through an evening with a couple dozen men smoking smelly cigars and talking of nothing but horses will never intrude upon your pleasanter agenda.”

  “Thank the Maker! I would either fall asleep from boredom or faint from the fumes. No, you have your fun at the Jockey Club, William. Besides, in light of my big reveal to Lord and Lady Matlock, a night of rest and quiet may prove beneficial. I am joking!” she laughed when he lifted his brows. “A lady needs her beauty sleep, to be sure. Nevertheless, whether I sleep deeply or fitfully, I promise to be presentable by tomorrow evening. If it takes me all day to erase the horrid sight of droopy eyes, tangled hair, and pillow creases on my face, it shall be done.”

  Darcy had paused by the door and was staring at her with an odd expression as he slowly shook his head. “Horrid? I must disagree. The vision of you upon waking in the morning is one I constantly dream of and long to see with my own eyes, pillow creases included. I can think of nothing more beautiful.”

  So enraptured was she by his face that the intimacy of his declaration did not even raise a blush to her cheeks. Later, she would marvel at how rapidly his countenance could shift into smoky desire, and how the obscurest reference to an insignificant thing could arouse his ardency. Not for several weeks into their marriage would she fully comprehend the depth of his hunger for her, and that she would fully reciprocate.

  For the present, she ceased to think, giving in to the thrill of his burning gaze sweeping across her face and lush lips slowly parting as he bent his head toward her. With one hand, he warmly caressed the right side of her face, tenderly drawing her closer, while his right hand slid over her hip until it rested on the small of her back.

  Then, as the gap narrowed till their lips were inches apart, both of his hands tightened and he pulled her forcefully against his body. She barely managed a swift inhale before the blissful invasion of lips and tongue consumed her.

  God, what is happening to me?

  The thought screamed through her mind, yet not as a plea for help but rather as an exalting declaration. Indeed, there was no fear or confusion in her reaction to William’s touch. Quite the opposite. She felt vibrantly alive—as if every moment of her life, prior to the day her betrothed kissed her for the first time had been drab and blurry. Now her vision was crisp, the colors vivid. In truth, all of her senses enhanced.

  More remarkable than sensations being in sharper focus than ever before was the recognition of a purpose to her existence. A vital importance infused her being, an explicit reason to rise in the morning and anticipate the weeks, months, and years ahead with a previously unimaginable joy.

  Joy.

  Such a small word to encapsulate such a profound message. And, as astounding as it seemed, the embodiment of her joy was the man in her arms. A man she had once believed was the last man in the world she would ever marry. Those harshly spoken words were now incomprehensible to her, and if not for delirious distraction of his ongoing kiss and the resulting rapture infusing her head to toes, she would have laughed aloud.

  Time completely lost all meaning. Fused together from lips down, she never wanted this embrace to end. Later that evening, when alone in her bedchamber reliving the experience, Lizzy admitted that if William had returned to the sofa and taken their wild passion to the ultimate conclusion, she would not have fought him. In fact, every fiber of her soul longed for him to make love to her right then, consequences and rules be damned. Even if not rationally understood in the heat of the moment, her desire was so intense that she moaned in despair when he loosened his grip and withdrew from her lips.

  Resting his forehead on hers, he said nothing and kept his eyes closed for a very long time. Finally, although still breathing in harsh gasps, he spoke. “I hope you do not want an apology Elizabeth because I cannot in honesty give one. I…” He paused to gulp, only then opening his eyes. “I want you…immensely. As we established previously, if I am to retain my sanity between now and our wedding night, these interludes are essential.”

  The seriousness of his claim was without argument, yet there was a trace of humor to his tone that brought a soft smile to her lips. “I shall risk being branded as a wanton woman and assure you, my love, that I echo your sentiments with equal fervor.”

  It was an admission delivered honestly, albeit in a somewhat halting, embarrassed mumble. Warmth rose to her face, and she struggled not to look away from his eyes. It didn’t help that a significant portion of her mind was stuck on the vivid picture of their bodies entwined on the nearby sofa.

  As if reading her mind, Darcy flicked his eyes to the cushioned surface steps away, the action so swift she almost missed it. Then, he slipped the hand still resting on her back down lower until it was splayed over her rear, pressing her firmly against his pelvis. For a second—an exquisite, rousing second—Lizzy held her breath in anticipation.

  “Those words I shall remember and cherish forever,” he pledged. Releasing his adamant grip on her body, he grinned in a way that could only be described as smugly satisfied. “And now I must delay no longer in returning you to the others, ere they send in the hounds.”

  4

  Illuminative Conversation

  As it happened, Lizzy’s evening was not as relaxing and restful as anticipated.

  Mr. Darcy passed a delightful evening in horse-centric conversation with his fellows at the Jockey Club. He missed Elizabeth, of course, but if being truthful, not too much until back at Darcy House. And even then, between a rich dinner and far too much fine wine, he slipped rather quickly over any sensations of melancholy and right into dreams of his beautiful fiancé.

  Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Bennet also spent a marvelous evening away from the house. The two gentlemen accepted a last-minute invitation to join Mr. Bingley at a boxing match, followed by who knew what manner of entertainment, and did not return until nearly midnight.

  As a result, Lizzy dined alone with Jane and Aunt Gardiner. For a treat, their nieces and nephews joined them for dinner and then for a rowdy interval of family fun i
n the parlor. Eventually, the nanny came to collect them for bed, and after the obligatory moans and protests, the ladies were left in peaceable solitude.

  Curled in chairs close to the fire, they each pulled out their needlepoint projects. For a time, Lizzy concentrated on the bookmark she was creating, but because it was a planned present for William, her mind continually drifted to him and their passionate exchange in his office. She wasn’t aware that she was staring into space or that she had sighed for the fifth time in a half hour.

  “What has you pensive and distracted this evening, my dear?”

  Mrs. Gardiner’s question pierced the silence, jolting Lizzy visibly despite it being asked in her aunt’s normal subdued voice.

  “Nothing at all,” she hastily replied only to stutter into a convicted silence when her aunt quirked one brow in an obvious I know you are lying message.

  Speaking from where she sat placidly sewing by the fire, needle flashing without pause, Jane spoke up. “She has been in a mood since we departed Darcy House and refuses to confess the truth or the cause. I believe it has something to do with the private audience Lizzy had with Mr. Darcy while at his townhouse today. A lengthy audience, I must add—”

  “Must you really?” Lizzy interrupted. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh, snap irritably, or roll her eyes at the merciless teasing at her expense.

  “I am glad to hear of it, Lizzy. Long private audiences during one’s betrothal period are necessary for a happy, fulfilled marriage. A new bride should not be wholly surprised on her wedding night. A bit of prior knowledge and practice is most beneficial for early and lasting pleasure with your husband in the bedchamber. Make sure you arrange a few private interludes with Mr. Bingley, Jane dear.”