Wishing he could turn back time and keep his surly thoughts to himself, Darcy replied, “No, but if part of a later conversation becomes as well-known as that ungracious comment, our sudden engagement will not be looked upon with so much suspicion.”
Mr. Bennet cackled. “Good play, Mr. Darcy. I accept your chastisement and take your assessment as guarantee from your own mouth that henceforth no further ungracious comments will proceed from said aperture.”
Poker references. How appropriate. Darcy felt the stakes rise. Once they left the study and returned to the party, he was all in. There was no going back.
Clearing his throat, he summoned every ounce of bravado in his possession, and continued, “The night of Sir William’s dinner, I made a favorable comment about Elizabeth—”
Did his voice have to sound so gruff? Darcy had been thinking of Elizabeth by her given name since Mr. Bennet gave his consent, but to hear himself say it aloud felt like a privilege he must earn. He cleared his throat again and pulled at his cravat. He could do this.
“—I praised Elizabeth to Miss Bingley.”
He could practically see the wheels turning in Elizabeth’s mind. She would assume this had happenedbeforeshe had refused to dance with him, and given the humbling Darcy had received that night, he took greater pleasure in disquieting her than in preserving his own pride. “It was immediatelyafteryou refused to dance with me.”
Elizabeth gasped. “What did you say?”
His assumption had been correct. With greater boldness, he continued, delighting in her shock. “I remarked that you have fine eyes and a pretty face.”
“You said that to Miss Bingley?”
Darcy felt smug, and he did not bother to suppress it. “She presumed to know my thoughts. I merely informed her of her error.”
“She must hate me.” Elizabeth did not sound troubled. Her eyes gleamed, and her lips curled upward.
“She wished us joy.”
“She was teasing, no doubt!”
“It is of no import. She knew I was not indifferent to you, and she jumped to the very conclusion we now need your friends and neighbors to accept. She cannot deny the exchange. She referred to it again only this afternoon.”
Mr. Bennet clapped his hands in applause. “If people are going to talk, we might as well encourage them to speak in your favor. All it will take is a little nudge for someone present at the dinner to recall overhearing your comment.”
“My own mother will profess that she knew since that evening that a match was inevitable. But it is not true!” Elizabeth pressed her hands against her cheeks.
Darcy stiffened. If their story was to be believed, they must eliminate all doubt among themselves now. “Be that as may be, I assure you that itisthe truth and that I spoke in earnest.”
“You must convince everyone that this is a love match.” Mr. Bennet rubbed his chin.
“Mr. Darcy is to play the love-struck suitor to me, the starry-eyed maiden?”
She did not believe he could do it. A sensation Darcy had not experienced since his rowing days at Cambridge surged through him. Elizabeth had thrown down a challenge, and he would meet it. He would win her over. He had to.
Darcy had never been bested when challenged—and winning Elizabeth’s favor would be the greatest prize he could imagine.
CHAPTER15
Bingley’s newfound decisiveness bore remarkable fruit. Not only was his ball a smashing success, but he had also managed to dance once again with Miss Bennet. She was so lovely, so gentle and kind—a sharp contrast to his own sisters who treated him like an incapable little boy. Well, who was capable now?
He sipped from his champagne flute and reveled in his achievements as he took a turn about the room. Was this how Darcy felt all the time? Bingley could get used to it. He felt powerful, in charge, like a captain in command of his ship.
Speaking of Darcy, he had been gone for some time. Long enough for Bingley to dance with Miss Catherine, Miss King, Miss Lucas, and Mrs. Philips. He had not thought Darcy would endure Mr. Collins’ for over a quarter of an hour, much less a whole one.
Guilt threatened to dampen Bingley’s triumph, but then he remembered himself. Darcy would not need anyone’s assistance to escape unwanted company. Most likely, he had tired of the crush and was presently reading a book in the library, writing a letter in his room, or smacking the ivories in the billiard room.
As Bingley neared the refreshment table loaded with buckets of iced champagne, he realized he had not seen Mrs. Bennet for some time either. She was a lady whose absence could not but be felt, especially after a few flutes of the bubbly liquid.
Come to think of it, he had not seen Mr. Bennet either. Perhaps the gentleman had found a comfortable chair in the quieter library. He seemed more suited to books than to conversation and dancing.
Then Bingley saw his angel conversing with Sir William, Lady Lucas, and Miss Lucas. All further observations of the other Bennets present—or not—fled his mind. Like a moth to the flame, he drew nearer.
