Page 78 of Her Whole Heart
Milton leaned forward from the chair just behind him to whisper, “Do not fret, cousin. She is clearly admiring your chiselled profile and the way your eyes sparkle in the candlelight.”
Fitz, who could not possibly have heard what his brother had whispered, slapped Milton’s back so hard that he pitched forward and had to catch himself on Darcy’s chair.
“You are missing the music, brother.”
“I may be missing my lungs,” Milton complained as he sat back.
“I beg pardon for reaching across, Miss Hamilton,” Fitz said.
“That is quite all right,” Miss Hamilton replied. “I suspect the viscount deserved it.”
“Why would you say that?” Milton cried in mock affront. Or perhaps it was not pretence, and he truly thought nothing of his behaviour. Darcy could not be bothered. Fitz would handle his brother and apparently Miss Hamilton would assist.
“I must say, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy murmured, low enough so that those behind him could not hear, “you look lovely this evening.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Elizabeth said with a little smile. “You look handsome, as always.”
He could not help but smile. She thought him handsome. This was an excellent beginning indeed.
Darcy heard a chair squeak as someone—most likely Milton—leaned forward again.
Miss Hamilton spoke abruptly. “The soprano we are to hear is said to be unparalleled.”
“Indeed,” Miss Bennet said softly. “Lord Milton, I understand from Miss Darcy that you are a regular at the opera. You must tell us what we are to hear.”
Milton huffed a little, and Darcy imagined he was making a childish face, but his cousin gave over trying to torment him. Along with Fitz, he settled for acting the gentleman with the two ladies in his row.
Meanwhile, Lady Carlisle and Lady Ashford were engaged in their own conversation about the latest fashions and some story about the Duke of Dismay, whoever he was, being in love with an earl’s daughter but not being willing to marry her or indeed any other woman. It was sure to lead to heartbreak all around, they were certain of it. Their husbands were less interested in the romance and more in how the duke’s troubles might influence his politics.
“I say, Darcy,” Lord Carlisle said, looking over his shoulder. “Was your uncle not available this evening?”
“He is attending the theatre with Lady Henrietta,” Darcy replied.
“Ah,” Lord Carlisle said. “Well, I hope they enjoy themselves.”
“I am sure they will, my lord.” His uncle was doing more to spend time with his daughter. Darcy was pleased for her but was not yet comfortable in her company.
When he turned his head to address Miss Elizabeth, he detected hints of jasmine, and when he moved his hand, it brushed against hers, sending a jolt of electricity up his arm.
Miss Elizabeth glanced up at him, her cheeks pink and her dark eyes questioning.
He ought to beg her pardon, but he was not about to apologise. Not for that.
As the curtain fell on the second act, Darcy turned to Miss Elizabeth. “May I ask your thoughts about the performance thus far?”
“I found the soprano’s aria quite moving, Mr. Darcy,” she said softly, and then her eyes twinkled. “Though I could not help but notice that the tenor seemed to be struggling with his high notes.”
Darcy had not noticed that himself, for other than the spectacular aria, he had not truly been paying attention to the singing. It was difficult to do so when Miss Elizabeth was sitting so near. Even amid the chaos of the conversations around them, Darcy found himself in danger of making a complete cake of himself over this slip of a woman. “Perhaps his struggles were simply a reflection of the character’s inner turmoil,” he said teasingly, pleased with himself for rallying so well. “Not every note in life can be perfect.”
“An astute observation, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Elizabeth replied. “I suppose we must all endure our share of imperfect notes.”
Her words were telling, given what she had revealed about her childhood, and at just that moment he could have wrung her father’s neck quite cheerfully. But despite the undercurrent of sadness she carried with her, Miss Elizabeth was not one to remain melancholy for long.
“It is how we choose to respond to them that defines us, I think,” she said with a confirming nod of her head.
“I am not sure that bodes well for the tenor,” Darcy said playfully, and was treated to a warm smile.
“We shall not have to wait long to find out,” she said and motioned to the stage. “The curtain is going up.”
