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Diverted by such a droll study of the unfortunate lady, Elizabeth turned away from the mirror to face him. “Congratulations,” she said, grinning. “You have matched my own sentiments perfectly.”

Darcy pushed away from the dresser and approached her, tucking a curl behind her ear and tipping his head close to hers once again. “My observational capabilities are at least equal to yours. I have observed that you are lovely, and that nobody here will care if I kiss you again.”

He looked so handsome that she allowed one chaste kiss before giving him a mockingly reproving smile and placing a hand on his chest to forestall another tight clasp. “And what else, pray, have you observed?”

“I have noticed that Miss Barlowe will most certainly not be the only lady to leave here unattached,” he replied distractedly, his attention all on the curls above her ear. “We are the only people present with a whit of understanding between us.”

“You are very severe on your acquaintances.”

He shrugged. “Emerson and Clarke are notoriously dismissive of any attachment. Anderson is as likely to attract a statue as a spouse. Saye has made scarcely any progress with Miss Goddard, despite Balton-Sycke finally leaving. Fitzwilliam is hopeless, and in any case, most of the ladies are too young for him, and the more eligible ones seem mutually indifferent.”

“Richard is not hopeless,” Elizabeth said, frowning.

“He only has a heart hardened by too many years living in both war and society. Miss Fisher, Miss Hilgrove, and Miss Morgan may be young, but they are all kind-hearted, and they are not overawed by his uniform like some young ladies we know. However, you may be right. If none of the ladies present may be the right match for him, more’s the pity. ”

She saw him stiffen at her casual use of his cousin’s given name.

The amorous look of moments earlier was gone; his expression was blank as he looked past her to examine the folds of his cravat in the mirror.

With studied calm, he said, “ You take an eager interest in the romantic inclinations of my cousin.”

“And you have taken note of everyone and nothing all at once,” she replied soothingly, tugging on his lapels and smiling up at him.

“You and I are proof that not every conversation is in a public room, and not every attraction is displayed for others to observe. We are also proof that a gentleman can fall in love with a lady and assume she feels the same while no one else in a town of four-and-twenty families has a hint of it.”

“One day that story will amuse me, but as yet it does not,” Darcy said.

“You were—you are —an object of fascination in Meryton, but you were allowed to fall in love without a Greek chorus standing about and mocking you?—”

“You have forgotten your father.”

She could scarcely forget her father or her current displeasure with him, but Elizabeth would not allow him to intrude upon them here, not with Darcy seeming dangerously close to true pique. “It would do us well to allow the furtive romances and pining amidst us to continue in peace.”

Darcy gave her an incredulous look, but Elizabeth took no notice of it as she went on. “Leave your cousins be, and let them enjoy discovering their own course of true love.”

“My cousins can both take their romantic affairs as far away from me as they please. I want nothing to do with them. And neither should you. ”

She grinned, though she made no attempt to keep the challenge from the look she gave him. “But I am the most fortunate of all the ladies here, dearest, for I have the privilege of being already engaged. I promise not to arrange anything, but I must lend an ear to any questions.”

Darcy began to smile, but it was quickly replaced by a frown. “Who has been asking you questions?”

“You were there when Lord Saye asked my advice about Miss Goddard.”

“Indeed I was.” Darcy nodded curtly in acknowledgment, and her heart sank. Could he not take pride that her opinion was esteemed even by the notoriously disdainful Saye? How had they moved so rapidly from such sweet amity and accord to misunderstanding and suspicion?

For a moment, Elizabeth considered mentioning that to him.

She was, in some regards, quitting her sphere for his.

His friends and relations would become her own, and inasmuch as she had been thrilled by the opportunity to come to this party and see him, her desire to form her own connexions amongst his circle had been equally enticing.

Did Darcy not recognise the importance of that?

This was not the time to remind him, she realised. Certainly not when the taste of her kisses remained on his lips and the frustration of a healthy young man weighed on his... She was not so much a maiden as to be insensible to that.

A gong clanged loudly from somewhere outside the door, saving them. “We must join everyone,” she whispered, taking two steps away from him. “Your cousin?—”

“My cousins demand too much of our time.”

She gave him an astonished look. “We are here, brought together because your cousins are hosting a house party! It is a blessing for us!”

“Yet our every moment alone together is as furtive as in your father’s house.”

Clang!

The gong sounded again, its thunderous clang startling them both back into the urgency of the moment. Darcy, mired in frustration, heard Elizabeth gathering her skirts and her flustered whisper. “We must go. Your cousin’s ridiculous artistic endeavour awaits us.”

He could not like that she was leaving before he had rectified the impasse occasioned by his harshly spoken words, yet it was probably for the best that she did go.

He was not yet recovered from what had briefly seemed Elizabeth’s admission to sharing romantic secrets with Fitzwilliam and was still far too aroused by her sweet caresses to give a better account of himself at the present moment.

“Yes, after he deafens half the servants with that blasted gong,” Darcy growled, stepping to the door and opening it.

Finding the hall empty, he gestured to Elizabeth.

She met his eyes briefly, both clearly uncertain what to say as they parted, and then turned left and moved quickly down the corridor.

Darcy closed the door and leant his head against it.

A week more in her company here, and everyone would disperse to London or their family estates.

She would go home to Longbourn, far from his reach, for six more weeks.

And he had ruined the last moments of this sublime assignation with his witless grievances.

Groaning, he threw open the door and stormed out in the other direction, scowling when he turned the corner and saw the two men he least wished to encounter, sauntering down the hall towards him. The dastard and the dullard. Perfect .

“Devil take it, you look positively fearsome, Darcy. Even your hair looks angry.” Fitzwilliam stared at him curiously.

“I had thought to propose some fencing matches after Saye has finished posing us in wigs and togas, but you look altogether too enraged. Mother would be unhappy with even more blood spilt on her floors.”

His cousin’s relentless insouciance could only amplify Darcy’s resentment, and before he could temper himself, he snapped, “Especially the blood of her own son.”

“What?” Fitzwilliam asked.

Anderson looked between the cousins and excused himself in a low voice.

Still grinning easily, Fitzwilliam asked, “Is that scowl blistering me because I dared to rub shoulders with Anderson? Or has Lizzy thrown you over for me?”

Pure white rage burned through Darcy’s chest at Fitzwilliam’s comfortable use of her nickname. “Elizabeth. Miss Bennet, even. You are not yet her relation nor a close friend to claim such a privilege with her name.”

“On the contrary, I daresay I am her close friend, as I believe has been demonstrated very well this week.”

Darcy clenched his hand and took a step nearer to his cousin. “You would do far better to have less concern for your friendship with my betrothed and more for your own romantic prospects. Is there not another pretty girl here to exercise your charms upon?”

Fitzwilliam snorted. “You and Miss Bentley should enjoy a conversation. You both persist in the idea that I ought to be searching through my brother’s houseguests with an eye to matrimony.”

“Of course you should.” The sooner his cousin focused his attentions somewhere other than his betrothed, the better.

“Why should it matter to you? You are not so interested in anyone else’s romantic affairs. I do not hear you suggesting that Emerson ought to offer for Miss Morgan or that my cousin ought to be saved from Anderson.”

Relieved by the shift in topic, Darcy shook his head. “Do you not think most of the women in this house would wish for a man with a livelier disposition than Anderson?”

“I imagine Lizzy’s sisters may have put the same question to her.” Fitzwilliam laughed again, leaning on one shoulder against the near wall. “Anderson is not a bad fellow, Darcy, and is certainly a good horseman and a decent wit to boot.”

Darcy could not deny that those words stung. A livelier disposition—yes, it was something he worried over, the disparity between his and Elizabeth’s temperaments. It was a particular cruelty that his cousin should hit at that home truth with such ease.

Darcy was silent for a moment. “You are as bad as Bingley, making friends with everyone that you meet.”

“You ought to try it, Darcy. I am sure Elizabeth would appreciate it if you made the effort. Like her, I make the effort to charm those I meet. You do not, and the result is your jealousy.”

“Jealous? Of you?” Darcy gave a dark chuckle, then stepped close to Fitzwilliam, seething as he glared down upon him.

“I cannot think of any other reason for your ill humour! You are stomping about gloomily at a house party, where your lady has surprised you! I should think you would be ecstatic Elizabeth has sought your society.”