“I know.” She reached out and touched his hand—a brief, improper contact that sent lightning up his arm. “But the important things have already been said.”
“Have they?”
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I had always wanted a marriage of affection. Affection and dare I say love? Everything else is merely detail.”
Darcy's heart stopped.
“You—”
“Yes.” She said it simply, certainly, as though it were the most obvious truth in the world. “I should have said it this morning, but Lydia?—”
“Has remarkably poor timing.”
“The worst.” She laughed softly. “And perhaps the best. She did give us the mistletoe. Twice. I suppose I must forgive her eventually.”
Darcy raised her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her gloved fingers. “Tomorrow,” he said. “Tomorrow I will ask you properly. With your father's blessing. With all the formality you deserve.”
“And I will say yes.” Her smile was radiant. “Again.”
He helped her into the carriage, their fingers lingering together until the last possible moment.
A CHRISTMAS MORNING PROPOSAL
On Christmas morning,Elizabeth lay in the gray, pre-dawn light, the memory of Mr. Darcy’s kiss still burning on her lips.
Her cheeks flushed.
She had expected awkwardness, perhaps. A brief, proper brush of lips, performed for the watching crowd. Instead, she had met warmth. Tenderness. A depth of feeling that stole her breath and left her trembling.
She felt the ghost of his fingertips against her jaw. She still remembered how her heart had hammered when he deepened the kiss, when the rest of the world had fallen away and there was nothing but his mouth on hers and his hand cradling her face like she was something precious.
She had made a sound—she remembered that now, with mortification and wonder in equal measure. A soft, involuntary thing that had escaped before she could stop it.
And he had felt it. She had felt his breath catch, the way his hand tightened against her skin.
Oh, she had breathed when they finally separated.
Just that. Justoh.
It was wholly inadequate to describe what had happened to her.
Elizabeth pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks and smiled.
Mr. Darcy would come today. He had promised—early, he had said, with an intensity that suggested dawn itself might be too late. He would speak to her father, ask the questions that propriety demanded, and then...
Then she would be engaged.
The thought made her laugh aloud in the quiet room.
Jane stirred in her bed. “Lizzy? Are you well?”
“I am perfect,” Elizabeth said. “Absolutely, ridiculously perfect.”
Jane's knowing smile was visible even in the dim light. “He will come, you know. A man does not kiss a woman like that and then forget to propose.”
“Jane!” Elizabeth threw a pillow at her sister, who caught it with a laugh.
“I saw your face when you returned to the carriage. I have never seen you look like that.” Jane's voice softened. “I am so happy for you, Lizzy. So very happy.”
