“You are a fool. Does Miss Smith even desire this future you press on her?”
“She does not know the world well enough to judge.”
“Andyoudo?” His long-fingered hand swept past my dress. “Wealthy Miss Woodhouse, who resides in country splendor?”
I straightened my shoulders. “I do not pretend to understand your challenges, Mr. Knightley. Do not pretend to understand those of a woman alone, who is a tenant in my own home, and who must beg for my own funds.”
He was silent, then said softly, “Is your situationso dire?”
I waved a hand in frustration. “That is not what I wish to discuss.”
“What, then?”
“I…” My attempt at apology now felt foolish and self-aggrandizing, but at least it was action, not words. “The first dance will be a royal dance, observed by His Royal Highness. It is the pinnacle of social visibility.”
“And whom will you dance with?” he responded shortly.
I gathered my courage. “With you, if you will ask me.”
There was a surprised silence. “Have you not been reserved by a parade of stuffy lords?”
“Only by Mr. Darcy, and he wishes to scheme, not dance. He will have his opportunity.” Censure and humor warred on Mr. Knightley’s features. That was hard to interpret, so I presented a lively smile and said, “Mr. Knightley, would you honor me with the next dance?”
He broke into a laugh. “If you are asking gentlemen to dance, you have spent too much time with Mary. Are you completely corrupted?”
“Not completely,” I said with a smile.
24
WYVERNS
LIZZY
London’ssocial set swarmed us after Darcy and I greeted the prince. When that became overwhelming, we ducked and hid behind a battered suit of armor.
“I never expected the Prince would attend,” I said, feeling overheated. The crush had been intense.
“Hopefully he merely wished to fill a dull evening,” Darcy said.
“What else could it be?”
Darcy’s lips pursed uncertainly, the closest to a shrug he allowed himself in public. Then he turned to me. “Would you remove your gloves?”
“What?”
Darcy waited, earnest and intent, so I did. In one swift motion, he removed his right glove and took my hand, then stared at our folded fingers.
“What on earth are you doing?” I said.
“I am recalling the times when ladies tricked me into touching them.”
“Goodness. Does that happen often?”
“More than I knew.” He bent, and his kiss brushed my skin. He restored his glove.
While I tugged my own gloves on, I noticed something familiar in the next room’s collection. I made my way there, trailed by Darcy.
This room held Egyptian artifacts. The Rosetta stone was prominent, fourfeet tall and covered with engraved symbols. Some claimed it would decipher the mystery of hieroglyphics. But that was not what caught my eye.
