Elizabeth grinned. “Survival is a kind of function.”
Darcy studied her for a moment, then said, “You look pretty young to me. Why would your mother already be pestering anyone with marriage?”
Elizabeth chuckled into her drink. “Let’s just say my mother married a bit older than was the norm in her time—and now she’s on a mission to make sure none of her daughters repeat the ‘mistake.’”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “The mistake?”
“She considers thirty a deadline, not a milestone,” Elizabeth said dryly. “According to her, every year after twenty-five is just waiting to expire on the shelf.”
Darcy blinked. “That’s...dramatic.”
“You haven’t met her.”
He gave a soft laugh. “Fair.”
She looked at him now, the teasing edge still in her smile. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about yours?”
“Me?” His eyes widened slightly.
“I showed you mine,” she said, lifting her cup. “Show me yours.”
“Right.” He gave a small exhale, setting his own drink down. “It’s just me and my sister,” he said after a pause. “She’s seventeen. Turns eighteen this November.”
Elizabeth blinked. “You have a sister?”
“I do. Georgiana.”
The name hung between them a moment. It wasn’t what she expected.
“I’ve been her guardian since our father died eight years ago. She was nine; I was twenty-one. Our mother passed before that, so it’s just been the two of us for a long time.”
Elizabeth’s green drink paused halfway to her lips.
Nine and twenty-one.
He’d barely finished school himself when he took that on.
“I’m sorry about that,” Elizabeth said.
“It’s been a long time.”
There was a brief, awkward silence. Then Elizabeth broke it. “Why haven’t I ever seen a picture of you with your sister?”
“She’s not on social media,” he continued. “By my insistence. I’ve always been… cautious. Maybe too cautious. But I figured once she turns eighteen, she can decide for herself.”
Elizabeth blinked.
That wasn’t the man she’d imagined. Not entirely. Protective. Involved. A little controlling maybe, but with purpose.
She sipped slowly, thoughts flickering.
Was this the same man Wickham had accused of manipulation, of cruelty? Was this the same man who supposedly erased a godson from existence?
The contrast scraped against her.
“You sound like you actually care,” she said.
“I do.”
