Page 36

“It was in the service of a friend,” he spat, but then calmed down when he realised how foolish it sounded.

“Or at least, I thought it was.” He could not help but agree with Fitzwilliam as they continued to walk.

He had put himself at a disadvantage, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

If only Elizabeth had not heard of the fateful mistake he had made with Bingley!

She must believe he thought her family was unsuitable to marry into.

After all, he had said as much. Not for the first time, Darcy wished his hasty words unsaid.

Fitzwilliam was still beaming from ear to ear.

Already, Darcy could see how difficult it would be if he lost the wager and had to endure Fitzwilliam’s gloating with Elizabeth at his side as his wife.

Was it only selfishness that made him think Fitzwilliam did not love Elizabeth as he did, if he was willing to take the matter so lightly? “What is it?” he asked.

“Let us make this a wager, my dear cousin. It will make it even more interesting and add to the thrill of the chase.”

Darcy frowned. “I dislike the idea of Miss Bennet’s heart being a wager.”

“What wager?” Georgiana asked. Darcy’s heart nearly burst out of his chest when she suddenly appeared.

“Georgiana! We had intended to meet you back at the modiste. You should not walk out alone.”

“Please do not be angry with me,” Georgiana said. “When I finished, I waited a little. But as I could see you both from the shop windows, I did not think it would do any harm to come join you. It is such a short way.”

“Perhaps not,” Darcy relented. “In any case, no harm was done. Were you pleased with your fitting?” Privately, Darcy hoped the change of topic would take. It would not do to have Georgiana learn of the scandalous wager Fitzwilliam had proposed.

“I am,” Georgiana replied, linking her arm through his. “I am prodigiously excited for my new gowns. And do not change the subject. What is this wager you were speaking of?”

Fitzwilliam and he exchanged dismayed glances, and his cousin took up the conversation. “We were only saying how mild the weather has been of late. I wagered we will be in for a spot of bad weather before long.”

Georgiana frowned, but let the matter drop. “That does not sound like a very exciting thing to gamble on.”

Fitzwilliam caught Darcy’s eye. “Oh, it is not as dull as you might believe, dear cousin. I would not scoff at a hundred pounds.”

“A hundred pounds?” Georgiana exclaimed. “Just to see if the weather will turn sour again?” She looked at Darcy to see if Fitzwilliam spoke true. Darcy nodded, knowing it was not the weather they were betting on, but the happiness of their future lives.

Georgiana could not believe her ears. “I cannot leave the two of you alone, I suppose, if you are going to make such silly wagers as that. Let us return to the carriage, for we have a great deal more to do.”

As neither of the men objected, they recrossed the park to the waiting carriage. Darcy pulled Fitzwilliam aside before he could follow Georgiana inside. “A hundred pounds? Are you out of your wits, man? I never agreed to that.”

“Well, it seems you just did,” Fitzwilliam said, his eyes sparking with mischief. “Or else I suppose you shall be forced to tell Georgiana the real nature of our wager.”

“I do not think it right to —”

Fitzwilliam put a finger over his lips as Georgiana opened the carriage door, looking at them curiously. “Are you not ready to leave? Do you wish to remain in the park longer?”

“Not at all, Georgie,” Fitzwilliam said heartily. He bounded into the carriage, leaving Darcy no choice but to go along. He would speak to Fitzwilliam later. The proposed bet was hardly suitable. Darcy could not help but think his heart much too valuable to throw away on a wager.

And if his was not, then Elizabeth’s most certainly was.

∞∞∞

At supper that night, Darcy was relieved to have some time to himself to think. He enjoyed his cousin’s company, of course, but after the wager he had proposed, he was unsure whether he could be good company to anyone.

His heart ached as it never had before. Why should it feel as though his heart was shattering and soaring all at the same time? If this was what love was like, he could not blame himself for not embarking on the journey sooner. It was misery and ecstasy all at once.

“Brother? Is everything all right?” Georgiana asked, drawing him from his reveries.

He cleared his throat and gave her a weak smile. “Of course. Why should anything be wrong?”

She gave him a knowing smile. “Well, you have barely said a word since we left the park outside the modiste. And you have hardly eaten a bite of your supper.” She cocked her head to the side as if it would allow her to see him better. “What is it, brother?”

He sighed heavily, not about to go into the details with her. “There is a great deal on my mind. Business. It would only bore you,” he said.

She frowned. “I have seen you when you have business decisions to make, and it does not affect you like this. No, I think there is something else afoot.” Georgiana sliced a piece of the roasted meat and took a small bite, waiting for him to tell her the truth.

When he said nothing, she went on. “It seems our cousin is quite smitten with Miss Bennet.” She watched him carefully, making him squirm under her unswerving gaze.

“You have a bad habit of hitting much too close to home, Georgiana,” Darcy said with his best attempt at lightness.

He sighed heavily and forced himself to take a bite of his food.

He had not realised how hungry he actually was, and ate in silence for some time, hoping that Georgiana would drop the subject.

Darcy did not get his wish. Georgiana continued to talk about Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth. “I saw them at the art showing and wondered why you had not stayed with them. Do you not enjoy her company? I thought her very pleasant.”

At that, Darcy wiped his mouth and stood up from his chair. “Goodnight, Georgiana. I hope you sleep well,” he said and walked away from the table.

She stood as well and followed him. “But you have not finished your supper yet. Please, come and sit down, brother.”

He shook his head. “I am not hungry. Please, finish your supper. I shall see you in the morning.” He kissed her on the forehead, not wanting her to feel that he was angry with her. He was not angry, only heartsore.

Darcy hurried out of the dining room and down the darkened hallways toward the library.

It was a cool night, with soft rain striking against the windowpanes.

If their wager had been about the weather turning foul again, Darcy would have been named the winner.

However, it was not about that. It was about their lives — about the woman they both loved.

Or perhaps, about the woman they both said they loved.

Did Fitzwilliam truly know Elizabeth well enough for love?

He was, perhaps, more in love with the idea that Elizabeth had a fortune on the horizon, Darcy thought sourly.

He could not blame Fitzwilliam for wishing to marry for wealth.

His cousin would need to do so if he wished to live in the manner expected of an earl’s son.

Yet such practical concerns were not the same as love.

Elizabeth could not marry Fitzwilliam. Darcy thought with sudden, savage desperation that she must marry no one but himself.

He would have to see to that. Darcy would have to do all in his power to ensure she saw him for who he really was, not the foolish, arrogant man that she undoubtedly thought him to be.

How could he change her mind? How could he show her that his love was genuine?

Darcy walked down the shelves, trying to find a book that might distract him from the disturbing nature of his thoughts, but he soon gave up and went out into the main area of the library, sinking into one of the plush reading chairs.

Moonlight streamed through the windows, separated by intermittent rain clouds.

He did not mind the drizzle. It matched the gloomy mood of his heart.

There must be some way to show Elizabeth how he felt about her, to convince her he had left his foolish prejudice behind. It would not do to get this close and then lose her. He would not be as dramatic as to say it would kill him. But he would never be the same.

Darcy smiled ruefully. Elizabeth might never know it. If he failed, if she chose Fitzwilliam, it would be his duty to remain silent.

Yet falling in love with her had changed his life forever.