Page 37 of Without Pride and Prejudice

“I’ve never shown you mydukeside, but I’d like to.”

“Don’t even try to be sexy with me. We both know that I’m not in your league,” she snapped while perfectly mounting her horse, making sure to keep her right leg resting against the horse’s left shoulder.

Did I ever want to be sexy with her. Instead, I did the gentlemanly thing and adjusted her skirt to make sure it covered her legs, but I refused to let her go. “Monroe, after everything we’ve been through, are you really willing to let our relationship go?” I pleaded to know.

Her eyes welled with tears. “I don’t even know now if what we had was real.” She snapped the reins and trotted away from me.

How could she think that? Of course it was real. It had been the most real thing in my life. I headed for the nearest unoccupied horse, a great black beast. Without a second thought, I mounted the animal and chased after Monroe, who had headed toward the lake. I passed Jane and noted her gripping tightly to the reins of her horse, trying to coax it to move. She kept saying things like, “Nice horse, nice horse.”

It was probably for the best, I told myself as I cantered toward Monroe.

Monroe sat tall and dignified in the saddle, obviously trying to prove to herself she was worthy of the role she was playing, even though Elizabeth, according to the book, was not a horsewoman. More and more I began to fear what life as a duchess would do to Monroe—the stiffness of her expression wasn’t her. I wanted her smiles and irreverent laughter. I wanted her.

Monroe noticed me approaching and diverted her horse around the tranquil lake with a smattering of lily pads and leaves from the nearby trees that would soon change as autumn approached. Normally, Monroe would have squealed with delight over the lily pads—she thought they were the cutest. What I would give for that now.

I took Monroe’s side, my horse keeping pace with hers, and though I could tell the beast wished to dart across the field, I held him steady. “Monroe, we need to talk. I’m not letting you go without a fight.”

“I don’t understand why.”

“Because I lo—”

A cry of terror permeated the air. It was Jane. Her horse was galloping across the field, with her barely hanging on.

Monroe made to follow her, but she hesitated with a second thought. Deep anguish filled her beautiful features. “I don’t want to be an embarrassment or make it worse. But ... my mom,” she cried, conflicted. “I have to help.” She snapped the horse’s reins and flew after Jane.

Chuffing hell, this had the makings of a disaster. Where was that Bingley chap? Or a member of the staff? I raced after Monroe, hoping to beat her to Jane.

“I’m coming, Jane!” Monroe shouted, her bonnet flying off her head. “Hold on, it will be okay.”

I watched in horror as Monroe tried to swing her right leg to the right side mid-gallop so she could ride astride like she was Annie Oakley. For a moment, it appeared she knew exactly what she was doing as she rushed to Jane’s aid. I wasn’t sure what she planned to do once she reached Jane, but it didn’t matter. My world stopped when Monroe’s horse reared up with no warning, and before Monroe had a good foothold, it tossed her violently to the ground.

I pulled up on my horse’s reins. But before the beast halted, I jumped off and ran to Monroe crumpled on the ground, not moving. I couldn’t get to her fast enough. “Please help!” I shouted, not knowing what I would find when I reached her.

“Monroe.” I threw myself next to her on the damp ground. Her dark hair had fallen out of the hairpins and spilled all around her. Gently, I brushed her hair away from her face, careful not to move her and fearing the worst. Her eyes flitted open for an almost imperceptible second.

“Fitz,” she moaned before her eyes fell closed again.

I took her hand. “Monroe, hold on. Please,” I said frantically, begging her. “I love you,” I said the words I’d been holding back for years, hating myself for all the wasted time. Time? It’s all I wanted now—more time with Monroe.

“We do not suffer by accident.”

MONROE

OH, MY HEAD HURT ALMOST as much as my pride. Why couldn’t I ever help anyone without making a spectacle of myself? I was so embarrassed, I didn’t want to open my eyes. “Oops! ... I Did It Again” could be my theme song. Unfortunately, I knew I couldn’t keep my eyes closed forever. Fitz sounded alarmed and kept saying strange things to me. I should probably see what that was all about, except I didn’t feel like I could face Fitz, knowing this would just add one more item on his list of things I needed to change about myself. The new bullet point would read:Don’t act like Calamity Jane in a Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show.I really thought my leg was going to make it around. Honestly, I’d quite impressed myself, until ... well, the horse reared up, and I found myself lying on the damp, musty ground.

“Madam, madam. Are you all right?” Fitz asked.

Why was he calling memadam? I guess he was trying to stay in character?

Now, however, would probably be a good time for him to call me Monroe, considering my entire body might be broken, or at least my head, considering how hard it pounded. And I was pretty sure I’d heard him say he loved me—unless I had a traumatic brain injury and I just imagined that.

“Darcy, shall I call for help? Have a servant fetch the apothecary, Mr. Jones, or perhaps her father?” Zane asked in his best Charles Bingley voice. “That is Longbourn there, and I believe she is one of the Bennet sisters I have heard so much about. I think she must be one of the older two sisters. She is very pretty.” Wow, Zane was really leaning into his part. Again, maybe not the best time. Based on my headache, I was pretty sure I needed a doctor and not an apothecary. And who was Mr. Jones? I mean, I knew he was the apothecary inPride and Prejudicewho treated Jane, but I didn’t remember him being part of the cast at Pride and Prejudice Park. Had Lady Catherine forgotten to introduce him? And I wasn’t sure how calling for Mr. Bennet would help. I thought he’d said he was an architect, but maybe he knew first aid.

I waited for Fitz to reply, something to the tune of,“She’s not merely pretty—she’s the most beautiful woman of my acquaintance, and you’d better damn well call 999 for an ambulance.”The number 999 was like 911 in the States. But surprisingly, Fitz said none of those things. Instead, I felt strong arms around me, lifting me up.

“Are you sure you should touch her?” Zane sounded alarmed. “No one has properly introduced you. What a scandal this could be.”

Okay, he was taking this way too far. Shouldn’t he be saving Macey? Although I had to admit, his perfect elocution impressed me. He hadn’t even used one contraction. Jane Austen would be so proud, as she used them only sparingly in her writings.

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