Page 83 of Miss Bennet's Dragon
I smiled down at him. “You have escaped the carriage.” He cocked his head proudly, the scales on his nutmeg-brown muzzle sparkling with drops of water. He gave an enthusiastic, whistling coo and looked behind me.
I turned to see what caught his interest.
Mr. Darcy stood, frozen, no more than ten yards away.
Impossible. He was not to arrive until tomorrow.
Mr. Darcy was white with shock. His brow creased. His lips grimaced as he said in a curdled voice, “You havemarried.”
That jolted me into awareness. “What?” I looked around as if I had forgotten a husband. The dripping tykeworm peered up from my feet.
Oh.
“He is the bound draca of my aunt and uncle,” I stammered. “He… tends to follow me.” I looked back at Mr. Darcy, whose expression had contorted. I swallowed past a hard lump in my throat. “I have not married.”
Mr. Darcy visibly mastered himself, his posture straightening in jerks. That left a sense of wonder in his eyes.
He gave a self-conscious bow. “Miss Bennet.”
“Mr. Darcy.” I curtsied.
Then I realized how this must look. He would think I had thrown myself in his way. I babbled, “We were informed you were not at home. I had an urgent errand in… in the neighborhood…” I stopped. I could hardly explain that.
“I am back a day early,” he said. “To prepare the house for my sister.”
I heard a polite cough behind me. The gardener had stopped a discreet distance away with my aunt and uncle.
I turned back to Mr. Darcy. “May I introduce my aunt and uncle?”
“I would be honored,” he replied, staring into my eyes.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner,” I said. I could not tear my own gaze away. “This is Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Darcy bowed, never looking away from me.
It was a strange introduction, but it seemed sufficient. My uncle came forward and added a few words. Mr. Darcy replied, and they began to discuss our tour. My uncle mentioned trout.
My aunt stepped beside me. Softly, she said, “You are more acquainted with Mr. Darcy than I had known.”
“We have spoken on several occasions.” I was having trouble keeping my voice steady.
“He is taller than I imagined.”
“He is quite tall.”
When my aunt did not reply, I braved a look at her. She had a most amused expression.
I looked quickly away.
“Mrs. Gardiner,” Mr. Darcy said. He was now standing beside us. He smiled—smiled!—at my aunt, and she complimented PemberleyHouse.
I gathered Mr. Darcy had released the gardener. He would show the grounds to us himself.
How was this happening? I only came here because the wyvern said it would help!
My aunt and uncle paired up, my aunt linking an arm with Mr. Gardiner. Naturally, I would be expected to walk with Mr. Darcy.
I eyed him warily and was gratified to see him look uncertain.
