Page 12 of Darcy's Disguise (The Bennet and Darcy Chronicles #3)

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T he cobbled streets of Meryton were bustling with the usual morning activity: shopkeepers setting out their wares, townspeople gathering in small clusters, children darting between stalls. The scent of fresh bread drifted from the baker’s shop, mingling with the crisp air.

Darcy walked along the square, his hands clasped behind his back, his thoughts occupied with one singular idea—Elizabeth. He’d done everything he could to keep his distance, though it had taken a toll. He was ready to declare himself if only so that he could pursue her as he wished. She might not be fully in love with him or willing to marry him yet, but he had to take the risk. He had to trust her. She was no Amelia. He knew that already. He would have to trust that she would be honest with him. It was time to reveal all. These days apart were torture of the purest kind that he could not live with any longer. He was ready.

He found her in town. She wasnearby, only a few paces ahead, standing outside the milliner’s shop with Jane. He caught the faint lilt of her voice as she turned a bonnet over in her hands,examining the fabric, laughing at something her sister had said. It was the kind of moment he had begun totreasure. These stolen glimpses of herunaffected joy, these ordinary moments where she wassimply herself,unaware that he was watching.

She did not know he loved her.

And Heaven help him, he did. He loved her.

The thought had become inescapable, like the steady pull of the tide.He loved her.

And for the first time in his life,he had allowed himself to imagine what it might be like if she loved him in return.

She was beginning to, he hoped. She’d not admitted such a thing. She was certainly attracted to him, he thought. But now was not a time for assurances. That time had past. Now was a time to risk everything and tell her all, and hope she loved him for him. Or at least didn’t hate him for deceiving her. Living trapped inside this tutor identity was no longer serving him in any way.

All he needed was the tiniest moment alone.

The sharprumble of wheels on stonepulled Darcy’s attention away.

A fine,black carriage, elegant and unmistakably belonging to wealth approached, drawing the attention of everyone on the street.

A familiarcrest glinted in the sunlight.

Darcy stilled.

No.

Not here.

Not now.

He searched for Elizabeth. She was right there, close enough to see and hear everything that was about to take place. His heart sank. Their eyes met and he tried to send apology messages in her direction. But she just watched him in confusion.

The carriagecame to a halt, and before Darcy could move, before he could even think further, the door swung open.

A familiar voice rang out,bright and entirely too cheerful. "Darcy!"

The namecrashed through the quiet morning like a cannon shot.

He did not need to look to know thatElizabeth had heard it.

He felt the instantstiffening of her posture.

The suddenstillness of Jane beside her.

The way the air itself seemed totighten with unspoken realization.

Bingleyleapt from the carriage, oblivious. He strode toward Darcy, hisusual unguarded joy evident in every movement. "I can scarcely believe my eyes!" Bingley declared,grasping Darcy’s shoulders in an embrace."What are you doing in this little town? I heard you had left London, but never imagined I'd find you here!"

The silence in the square wasdeafening.

And then a voice, quiet and cold reached him deep inside, shaking him.

"Darcy?"

Slowly, painfully, Darcy turned.

Elizabeth stoodseveral steps away, bonnet still in her hands, her expression unreadable. "Darcy," she said again, as though testing the word on her tongue, as though she could not quite believe it.

Darcy’s mouth went dry.

"Elizabeth—"

She lifted a hand. "Do not," she said sharply.

Jane was lookingbetween them in worry, her hand on Elizabeth’s arm, as if trying to steady her.

Elizabeth turned to Bingley, her voicefar too calm. "You called him Darcy."

Bingley,blissfully unaware of the tension, grinned. "Of course! Fitzwilliam Darcy—my oldest friend."

Elizabethexhaled sharply, closing her eyes for the briefest moment.

She looked at Darcy again. But this time—there was nothing in her gaze but betrayal. "You lied to me," she said, her voicebarely above a whisper.

Darcyfelt it like a physical blow. He dipped his head in admission.

"You never meant for me to find out?" she snapped. The coldness in her voice wassharper than a blade.

"Lizzy," Jane murmured, but Elizabethignored her. "Tell me, Mr. Darcy," she said, voice shaking, "did you ever intend to tell me the truth? Or was I meant to go on believing in the man who did not exist?"

Darcyopened his mouth—then closed it. He had been just about to tell her. But that sounded very weak in the moment of discovery.

Elizabeth let out a breathless, humorless laugh. "You have made a fool of me," she whispered. “I have been through heartbreak over you. I spoke with my father. I was on the brink of losing everything for you.” She choked and looked away. “I came here to tell you.” Tears welled in her eyes. “That I would consider a tutor.” She turned away. “Was this a game to you?”

Darcyfelt something inside him break. "Elizabeth, please," he said, taking a step toward her, butshe stepped back, eyes flashing. "Do not come near me."

He stopped immediately.

She shook her head, looking away, herchest rising and falling too quickly. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

Jane hesitated only a moment before following.

Darcy stood there,staring after her, feeling his entire world collapse around him.

Bingleyshifted awkwardly. "My dear fellow," he said slowly, "I seem to have made an error."

Darcy let out ashaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "Yes," he murmured. "You might say that." He clasped him on the arm. “But so have I, far worse than your inadvertent one.”

Bingley hesitated, then clapped him on the back. "Shall I ask what you are doing masquerading as a tutor in a town such as this?"

Darcy did not answer for a moment. Then he turned to his best friend. “I think I came here to find her.”

Butnone of that mattered now.

He had lost her.

Elizabeth Bennet—the only woman who had ever made him feel like more than his name, his fortune, his duty—had looked at himas though she never wanted to see him again.

Andhe did not know how to fix it.