Page 39 of The Heir and Spare
His words shook her to the core. Powerful sentiments she could not help but be affected by coursed through her like her life force. Did she feel the same? Would she have cared enough about her guests to be certain they were the most important forat least the time they were in her home? Did this Darcy twin actually care for her?
She saw only sincerity in his expression.
“I know we have not been able to converse much at all, but I was hoping this evening to express an interest, to show you my earnest desire to know you better.” He sighed. “But, naturally, my brother feels something along those lines and I sense you might?”
A servant arrived with the boots, saving Lizzie from responding just yet.
Fitz indicated a bench against the wall. “Might I assist you?”
“Yes, thank you.” She studied his face. It was the same face she’d looked at countless times, sometimes as Fitz and sometimes as Arthur. But she could see the differences now. It was mostly in expressions, but Fitz was definitely Fitz, and he had a softer, sincere side she was appreciating greatly at the moment. Seems as though, once you impressed the man, he was all yours. At least for a time. She rested a hand on his arm. “Who knows what would have happened had I been handsome enough to tempt you.” She laughed.
He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.
“But I hold no ill feelings. Sometimes things happen for a reason.”
“Is there no hope of convincing you still? No pull of Pemberley itself? We might not yet have an affection but surely you can see all that would be available here.” His eyes held hope.
And she couldn’t dash that hope, but she couldn’t inflame it further, either. “I do love Pemberley already. And the opportunity to do so much good. But I want a marriage of more than convenience.”
She sat and he lifted one of her feet. “Then I shall have to win your heart or give in to a brother who has perhaps already won it?” He studied her face that she tried to keep from turningbright red, with little success. He ran his thumb over the side of her ankle. “With your permission?”
She nodded. No man had ever touched her feet before. Was this permitted? She glanced down the barn to find Arthur.
He was surrounded by servants and seemed to be organizing the rescue effort, or at least to have forgotten all about them.
She was about to nod her consent when Arthur glanced their way. He held up a hand and hurried in their direction. “Fitz. They are in need of your direction. Could you lead the first group? They need your exceptional abilities with horses. I think I can assist Miss Elizabeth from here, and we will move with the second group.” He was standing in front of them in what seemed to be two strides, his hand outstretched as if to ask for the boot in Fitz’s.
She felt her mouth drop and forced it closed. The two stood eye-to-eye, and she recognized just how identical they were, the same height, same jaw line, same handsome features. But there was a tenderness to Arthur that seemed more of an edge in Fitz, and even the strength displayed by Arthur in his commands was the kind of leadership that people wanted to follow. Fitz might be intimidating in some settings, but he would not often be admired, at least not yet. She saw so much potential in him, but Arthur seemed to have already arrived.
Goodness. The power of two Darcies both vying for her attention was almost too much. She stood. “I think I can don my own boot, but thank you very much for the offers to assist.” She tucked both boots under her arm and moved farther down in the barn to a different bench.
Fitz and Arthur engaged in a rapid-fire conversation which she would have loved to overhear but dare not.
After what seemed an eternity, both brothers gripped the other’s shoulder and Fitz moved toward the group of servants hard at work, preparing to leave by loading carts with neededsupplies. After a few steps, he turned to Lizzie and dipped his head in a half bow.
She smiled her encouragement and then Arthur stood in front of her. He knelt. “I see you’ve made no progress with your boot.” His smile was soft, tender and his eyes sparkling with light and admiration.
“I have not.” Her face colored. “I find my mind is highly engaged in the mystery of two Darcys when I thought there was only one.”
He closed his eyes. “When I met you at the house party…”
“I thought you were Fitz.”
“And he was less than gentlemanly?”
She looked away, not wishing to speak ill of him. “I… He did not seem to favor my company.” She gasped. “Nor that of my sister nor her relationship with Bingley.” She placed a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Mr. Darcy. I have treated you so ill. I must apologize.”
He reached for her foot. “May I?”
Her mouth went dry but she nodded and lifted her foot so that it fit in his hand. His large, strong fingers slipped the slipper off of her foot, placing it on the bench beside her. One hand cupped her foot, his fingers gently rubbing against the skin at her ankle while the other lifted the boot. “I do think this will fit well enough. It is not, perhaps, the prettiest of feet adornments.” He laughed as a large and clunky but very useful boot encased her foot and leg up to her knee.
“I shall fully appreciate these, I’m certain, as we go slogging in the mud.”
“You will, indeed.”
He lifted her other foot, both hands cradling its stocking smallness. “You have lovely feet.”
Her smile turned to a soft laugh. “I don’t think I ever imagined such a compliment.”
