Page 79 of The Scarred Duchess
“Rhetoric. Well done.” The younger Mr Darcy smiled, showing himself to be even handsomer than a few minutes earlier.
Elizabeth blinked and turned to Mr George Darcy. “I am my father’s daughter, sir.”
His eyes lit up. His smile stretched across his face. “It is a shame then you cannot join us at Angelo’s, Miss Elizabeth.”
“You fence, Lizzy?” asked a shocked Georgiana.
“Your father teases. I play the Game of Kings.” She turned to Mr Darcy. “Do you play, sir?”
“I do,” he replied.
“I sense a match in the future,” said Lady Catherine, dabbing her lips with a serviette.
Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat. She stared at Lady Catherine, whose eyes were lit with glee.Did I imagine Lady Catherine’s double-entendre?
“Do you prefer to play White or Black?” asked Mr Darcy. He seemed non-plussed.
She took a slow breath to calm herself and glanced at him. “When two players are equally matched, the player who opens has the statistical advantage.”
“I believe the lady avoids the question,” Mr George Darcy replied.
“Is that your determination as well, sir?” she asked, turning to Mr Darcy.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Darcy was caught by Miss Elizabeth’s endearing smile when she addressed him. Her raised eyebrow took his breath away. The addition of the lively and challenging brunette to Darcy House had certainly charged the air—for him, at least.
“When the time comes, let us agree to allow fate to decide,” he replied.
She is everything lovely. Darcy swallowed. His mind warned him off as his heart expanded its welcome. He tasted little of the meal set before him, so intent was he on listening to the lady’s conversation and opinions. Much as he enjoyed it, he found keeping his eyes from her and her bright, intelligent eyes to be an arduous and unwelcome task.
Thoughts of her plagued Darcy the following day. He sat in his favourite chair in the library repeatedly remembering the previous evening’s dinner engagement. Miss Elizabeth was well-read, witty, and beautiful. She was the kind of young lady that he never thought he would meet, lest dine with. And she was staying in his home, as the guest of his sister!
The guest of my sister. What am I thinking?he castigated himself.
He returned to his book, alarmed that he held it upside down, and quickly righted it. His eyes slowly closed; his last thought of a pretty brunette before Morpheus claimed him.
He looked up into the haze as the library door opened and Miss Elizabeth entered. He smiled as her eyes travelled the bookshelves—up, over, down, over and up again. She had nearly turned a full circle before she saw him. “Oh, excuse me, I...am I in Heaven?” she asked.
“Were we at Pemberley, I would think twice before saying you were not.”
She lifted an eyebrow, creating an enchanting vision. How shall she tease me?
“There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of.”
Darcy smiled. She had paraphrased Shakespeare without hesitation. “Are you a great admirer of the Bard?”
She pulled a volume from the shelf and sat across from him, her choice in her lap.
She held up the tome. “I am, sir.”
He read the title. “Romeo and Juliet? I would think you would prefer comedies over tragedies?”
“Who is to say the general message is not comedic?”
Surprised, Darcy drew back. “The death of two young lovers strikes me as nothing short of calamity.”
“I find the manipulations of two families putting their dynastic interests above those of their children’s hearts laughable. What manner of father would set aside his child’s happiness for thirty more pieces of silver?”
