Darcy set his teeth and stared straight ahead.
“Oh, now, what is this? Have I irritated you?”
“You have. You are put out with me over something so little as shaving off a bit of vanity that can be re-grown in a week if I desired—which I do not. But what of these plans you have made without consulting me?”
“Plans?” she asked innocently, but with a sportive smile that conceded her guilt.
“Yes, these plans that are supposed to be a surprise, but were of such a nature you could not entirely keep me in the dark, or you could never have carried them off. And so, you conscripted Lady Matlock to manage me.”
“Oh!” She laughed. “Yes, rather clever, was it not? I thought you would like that.”
“And why would you think so?”
“Why, darling, how could you not? Imagine it!”
“South America? Tell me what I have ever said or done to make you think I would wish to go there.”
“But it is the most exotic locale in the world, short of Asia. I knew I could never drag you to Thailand, but Buenos Aires? Have you seen the photographs, Darcy? Why, everyone who is anyone wishes to go there!”
“I am someone, and I do not.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you are such a stiff sometimes. I know travelling is not your passion, and I understand, but—”
“But you should have spoken to me before making such an unheard-of decision. Is it not my wedding tour as well you were planning?”
“Well! I see I shall have to be very careful not to offend. I never thought you were the type of man to dictate all his wife’s plans and ambitions.”
“I am not.”
“Then, what is this? You jump all over me for undertaking to plan a wedding tour when we both know perfectly well that you would not exert yourself to do it? Had you your way, we would simply take rooms in a different wing at Pemberley for a fortnight, and that would be the end of it.”
Darcy growled under his breath and forced his teeth to unclench. “Of course not. Because you have places you wish to go, I agreed to do as you desired, but I thought you would have discussed it with me first. You talked of other plans—plans which you also did not tell me of before announcing them to all—and then you said nothing when you decided on a whim to alter them. You should have spoken to me.”
“We never speak of anything. In fact, I cannot recall the last serious conversation we had.”
He nodded. “Well, perhaps that should change.”
Anne crossed her arms. “Perhaps, indeed.” Yet, instead of speaking, she turned to stare coldly at the window.
“Well?” he demanded, a trifle too harshly. “What is it you would like to speak of? Nothing? Very well, then, I shall begin. I wonder what you intend for a year from now. Five years?”
She frowned. “What can you mean by that?”
“You know perfectly well what I mean. But tell me this, instead. What think you of my cousin’s son, Sebastien?”
“Sebastien! He is a perfect urchin. Why do you ask?”
“Because whenever the question arises, you practically shudder. You cannot abide children. You would far rather circumnavigate the globe, yet a child will be my chief requirement in our marriage.”
“Yes, yes,” she huffed impatiently. “We agreed to that long ago, so why do you ask me this now?”
“Did we? So, you will tolerate me long enough to produce one child? Perhaps I should pray your sufferings do not endure beyond the first few months.”
“Oh, really, Darcy. What do you take me for, an ice queen?”
He studied her—the bluish cast of her features in the dim of the carriage, the stony set of her lips… and looked away. “No.”
“You do—why, you are like granite yourself. Why do you not try to make love to me, Darcy? Why do you not embrace me, try to caress me?”
