Page 82 of A Searing Acquaintance
Before he could respond, she drew him down and pressed her lips to his. She tasted him slowly and thoroughly, pulling on his lower lip, before drawing back and smiling at him dreamily.
“What was that?” he rasped.
“It occurred to me that I’d never kissed a whisker-free Fitzwilliam Darcy. I believe I’ll need to do a lot more investigating to figure out which version I like best.”
He pulled her into his arms and stood there, holding her close. “You look amazing,” he whispered in her ear. “That dress is just perfect on you.”
“Lizzy?”
Jane was standing in the doorway, her arms filled with shopping bags from bridal stores and a stunned look on her face.
“Fitzwilliam?”
Darcy stepped away from Elizabeth and nodded. “Hello, Jane. How are you?”
Elizabeth saw he was blushing and wondered whether she looked worse.
“I’m great, Fitzwilliam,” Jane finally replied, looking back and forth between the two of them. “I didn’t realize that you two were, um, spending time together. Lizzy hadn’t said anything.” She looked confused—pleased but confused. Elizabeth thought she detected a bit of annoyance, too, that she’d been left out of the Big Secret Romance going on right under her nose.
“I’ll be right back. I just need to grab a sweater.” Elizabeth squeezed Darcy’s hand and hurried to her bedroom with Jane quick on her heels.
“Oh, Lizzy.” She closed the door, grabbed Elizabeth, and hugged her. “Oh, Lizzy. Finally. I knew it. I knew it!”
“Slow down, Jane. It’s a date. A first date.” It was so much more than that, and she could barely breathe, and she desperately didn’t want to talk about it—about him.“What are you doing here anyway?”
Jane pulled back and raised her eyebrows. “I would’ve told you I was stopping by to drop off the bags, but you hung up on me!” She let go of Elizabeth and flopped on the bed. “Now tell me what’s going on. When did you see Fitzwilliam? Did he just call you? What happened?”
“Jane, I like him. He likes me. That’s all for now.”
“I think he more than likes you. Charles was sure he liked you. He’s hoped for such a long time that Fitzwilliam would do something to show you how he felt.Feels.” She smiled her approval at her sister’s appearance. “You look great, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth took a last look in the mirror and picked up her sweater and bag.
“You guys were cute together at Pemberley. But I wish you’d told me. I wouldn’t have barged in if I knew.”
Elizabeth flushed. “Please don’t, okay? It’s all new and delicate, and I don’t know exactly what I feel, let alone what he feels.”
Jane nodded. “Fine. You have fun. But you owe me details later.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I’ll be home Monday.”
He barely had the chance to see her apartment. It was small but full of light, plants, and books. After putting her flowers in a cobalt-blue vase, Elizabeth seemed keen to rush him out, especially after Jane’s unexpected arrival and their shared embarrassment.
“Jane didn’t know that we…that I was coming?”
Elizabeth blushed. “Jane isn’t home much, and I hadn’t told her about you—about any of it—until a few days before the engagement party.”Was that only a week ago?
Darcy rubbed his chin as he considered that. He was still reeling from the events of the past eight hours or so since bumping into the woman he’d thought he’d lost forever. After an afternoon in her arms, they were now walking hand in hand to his car. Last night, he’d been on the train, listening to his furious, panicked aunt demanding his immediate presence at a police precinct in Brooklyn. And now, this amazing thing.What a difference a day makes.He laughed quietly.Great, I’m thinking in clichés.
Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “What is it? Why are you laughing?”
They arrived at his car. He waved off the driver and opened the door himself. “Because I’m so very, very happy right now,” he whispered in her ear. “Thank you.” Then he kissed her tenderly and helped her into the car.
He took her to the West Village to a quirky and romantic carriage house where they sat at a corner table in utter privacy, enjoying a view of the restaurant’s lush gardens. He’d spent the afternoon figuring it out. Nothing too fancy, someplace with wonderful food, someplace discreet, someplace that might surprise her. He obeyed her orders and lay down for a short nap. It helped clear his head, even if all his thoughts were filled with her, and he woke up pleased that he’d be in her good graces for the simple act of sleeping. He marveled, as he had for those two days at Pemberley, that he could feel palpably nervous while being so happy. It was weird.
He wanted to know all about her: childhood, family, pets, and schooling. He was beyond pleased to learn she’d won the fifth-grade trifecta: school spelling bee, fastest fifty-yard dash, and poetry prize. He was sympathetic that Jane’s allergies prevented the family from having childhood pets beyond turtles and fish, so Elizabeth had bonded with the dogs she’d walked for an elderly neighbor. He marveled at her soccer career and the accolades and honors she’d earned. His brows furrowed as she breezily described the bone fracture that led to the end of her days on the field. He grimaced upon learning about the slow drift apart in her parents’ dysfunctional marriage and the abrupt departure of her mother. He kissed her fingers lightly as she told the story, smiling wryly as if it were a funny anecdote about “what happened the day after my eighth birthday.” Elizabeth brushed off hissympathetic words, claiming it was Sylvia’s loss; as for herself, she’d moved on. His heart broke a little for her, and he stored away the brave expression she wore. He knew that face well.
But Elizabeth refused to dwell on anything bad, no matter the vintage. She was too happy, he was too handsome, and they were together at long last.We’ve wasted too much time talking about things that don’t matter. I want to talk about us.
Until today, they’d only had a few conversations of any depth. He’d talked a bit about his mother when they were at Pemberley, and he’d written about his family in his letter, but she wanted to keep this evening light and airy and focused on the two of them. Talking in detail about her family was not the way to achieve that, nor was asking about his family or discussing the contents of the letter he’d written her and the risk he’d taken with his mother’s reputation to save hers.
