Page 11 of The Heir and Spare
He had to laugh to himself. “Yes. I do admit to a fear of marrying a complete stranger only to discover she is not the woman I at least hoped she might be.”
“How can one truly come to know another, though? There will be some elements of surprise in a marriage, I would presume.”
“Certainly. But it is my hope they will only be the good kinds of surprises.”
She tapped her lips with one finger and Darcy could not help but study her mouth. It was full and pink and soft. His own went dry. What would it be like to kiss such a mouth? To kiss such a woman? He almost laughed out loud. She’d never allow it. He’d seen the side to her that might push him away if he dared to try.
“Are you listening to me?” She frowned.
“I am… I was. But I was distracted. Please repeat just the last bit?” He widened his eyes with his most innocent-looking smile.
“Oh, fine. Are you with me this time?”
“Yes, riveted.”
She toyed with one of her ringlets and then began again. The curl tickled her face in just the right way and bounced back when she released it.
But he focused on her words.
“What I am trying to say is important. There will of course be unpleasant surprises. But they might seem less so if you really love your wife?” Then she colored prettily. “With you looking at me so intently I realize suddenly that our conversation is of a more intimate nature.”
“I quite enjoy it and you. If people are not willing to broach such topics, how can we ever truly come to know another?”
“I suppose it is exactly what you are trying to say, isn’t it? That we should connect better?”
“Yes, precisely. Now tell me what sorts of surprises would be palatable and which ones would not be pleasant no matter how much you know a person?”
Her lips pursed and he tried not to notice but they made a delicious-looking little pout that he found hard to resist in his thoughts.
“I think I should not abide a man who sleeps in nor one who slurps his tea.”
He nearly choked on his surprise. “Pardon me? Slurps?”
“Yes, surely no one slurps in polite company, but does he slurp when he thinks he’s alone? Would he slurp when we are so comfortable with one another that we relax into personal habits?”
He considered her a moment. And then he laughed. “And slurping? That’s the thing? That’s the personal habit you might not be able to abide?”
Her mouth twitched. “Well, and other things men might do of which I am unaware. But yes. And sleeps in, don’t forget.”
“Not even on a lazy Sunday?”
“I suppose after a ball, one might sleep the day away. But on most days, I should most enjoy a person who wishes to be outside with me, exploring or walking or riding or…I don’t know; when the sun is up I feel this call to welcome it, to feel it.” Her speech picked up and her words started racing out of her. “And even the rain. To feel it on my face is delicious. How could a bed hold a person when such a glorious earth is available just outside the door?” Her eyes shone with passion.
“I don’t know. You are absolutely correct and I shall never waste my opportunities in something so paltry as my bed ever again.”
She nodded. “Just so.” Then she turned to him. “I know we are partly in jest, but a serious answer to your question would simply be to run from unkindness. If you are both attempting to be good to the other, if your inner soul is kind, then I think you can make any relationship work.”
He was quiet, considering the profundity of her words, perhaps for too long because she began to fidget and then said, “But I can’t believe all that I just said in a few breaths only. You must have hit upon an important topic to me.” She didn’t meet his eyes. “Perhaps you could share your thoughts now as well? What might be an unhappy surprise for you?”
“I think you have expressed exactly my feelings. Find a person who is inherently kind and is willing to try.” He rested a hand over the top of hers. He’d never had such a conversation with a woman at a social event before. He felt changed for the better. And a new desire to ensure his own kindness grew in him.
“And how do you feel about pride, Mr. Darcy?” Her expression turned calculating. “And about dancing at small assemblies? Do you feel any woman might be beneath you?”
Something about her expression very obviously had drifted from the teasing congenial tone to one of almost accusation. He felt suddenly very much like he was being trapped. By what, he could not fathom.
“I—”
Lord Shackley’s footman opened the doors to the dining room just then, and he began calling them in to dinner.
