Caroline approached during the receiving line, her congratulations as brittle as spun glass and twice as sharp.
"Mrs.Darcy."The title fell from her lips like poison."How...fortunate for you."
Elizabeth smiled with perfect serenity, the kind Jane had taught her through years of example."Thank you, Miss Bingley.Your attendance means so much to us both."
Caroline's eyes glittered with venom, her jaw working as if physically restraining words that fought to escape.But she couldn't say what she wanted—not here, not surrounded by witnesses, not when Darcy stood three feet away watching her with cool assessment.She'd lost, utterly and completely, and the knowledge sat in her permanent grimace.
Yet she lingered, hovering at the edges of conversations, watching, waiting for—what?Some crack in their happiness?Some sign that this was all a terrible mistake?
Elizabeth was deep in conversation with Mrs.Long about the county's newest charity when she felt Darcy's presence behind her, solid and warm.His hand came to rest possessively on her waist, fingers splaying across the silk of her dress.Without thinking, she leaned back slightly into him, fitting herself against his chest.Mrs.Long gave them a smile and moved on.
He bent his head, his breath stirring the curls at her temple as he murmured low enough that she had to strain to hear, forgetting entirely that others stood nearby.
"I cannot wait to put my mark on your throat.These other alphas need to stop looking at you."
Heat flooded Elizabeth's face, spreading down her neck to disappear beneath her neckline.She'd noticed the looks—Mr.Lucas's lingering gaze, young Mr.Goulding's repeated attempts at conversation, even Mr.Hurst stealing glances when he thought no one would notice.Her newly revealed omega status had shifted something fundamental in how certain men viewed her.
She turned her head slightly, her lips barely moving as she whispered back with teasing lightness, "Are you jealous of everyone, Mr.Darcy?"
His hand tightened on her waist, fingers pressing into the boning of her stays.
"Yes."The admission came without apology or shame."Of any alpha who looks at you.I'm aware it's unreasonable."
"I find it rather flattering," Elizabeth murmured, letting her weight rest more fully against him.
Darcy made a low sound, almost a growl."Tonight.Tonight you'll wear my mark."
He stopped abruptly, his body tensing.Elizabeth followed his gaze to find Caroline standing not three feet away, her face frozen in an expression of absolute horror.She'd heard.Heard every intimate word, witnessed their casual touching, the way Darcy held Elizabeth like he couldn't bear to let her go.
Caroline's carefully constructed composure shattered like ice in spring.Her face went white, then flushed deep red, traveling down her neck in ugly blotches.
"I—excuse me—"
She fled, silk skirts rustling frantically as she nearly ran from the room.
Elizabeth watched her go, pity and relief warring in her chest."She heard."
Darcy's arm came fully around her waist, pulling her against him with complete disregard for propriety.
"Good.Let her know exactly how much I love my wife.Let everyone know."
Elizabeth leaned into his touch, the whispers of their audience fading to nothing, his possessive words hanging in the air for all those nearest to hear—and she found she didn't mind one bit.
CHAPTERTWELVE
The last ofthe rice pelted against the carriage windows as they rolled away from Longbourn, the cheers of her family fading into the distance.Elizabeth barely had time to wave through the glass before Darcy's hands found her waist, lifting her bodily from her seat and settling her across his lap.
"Finally alone."His voice scraped rough against her ear as his fingers started working at the pins in her hair.
Elizabeth laughed, catching his wrists."We have hours yet before London."
"I know."He pulled one pin free despite her grip, sending a curl tumbling down her shoulder."Torture."
His mouth found hers before she could respond, hot and demanding, nothing like the chaste kiss they'd shared at the altar.This was possession, pure and simple—his tongue sliding against hers, teeth catching her lower lip, drawing sounds from her throat that would have mortified her in any other circumstance.
The carriage jolted over a rut, breaking them apart.Elizabeth pressed her palm flat against his chest, feeling his heart race beneath the fine wool of his coat.
"The coachman—"
