Robert watched as his father dragged the man towards the drinks tray. He watched as his mother glided towards them.
"Miss Bennet," the Countess said, stopping in front of Jane, inspecting her from silver hem to blonde curl.
Robert held his breath.
"You have excellent taste in silk," she declared. "And you have done something to my son's hair. It is actually combed. I approve."
Miss Bennet curtsied. "Thank you, Lady Matlock. Though I can take no credit for his Lordship's grooming."
"Oh, you can," she murmured, her eyes sliding to Robert. "You most certainly can. Come, sit by me. I want to hear about this Cheapside of yours. Robert seems to think it is the new Eden."
Robert exhaled.Step one survived. Now for the dinner.
The dining table at Matlock House was long enough to land a small air balloon on. Robert sat on one side, Miss Bennet beside him. Darcy, Miss Elizabeth and Georgiana were opposite. The Earl and Countess held the ends like monarchs, having the Gardiners nearby.
Robert spent the first course, a soup that tasted of sherry and intimidation, watching the others.
He watched Darcy. His cousin was eating mechanically, his eyes darting to Miss Elizabeth every three seconds as if checking she was still there. It was painful. It was adorable.
He watched Miss Elizabeth. She was seated next to the Earl, opposite her uncle. This was the test. His father liked to test people. He liked to ask impossible questions about politics or the Napoleonic Wars just to see them squirm.
"So, Miss Elizabeth," the Earl rumbled, stabbing a piece of turbot. "Fitzwilliam tells me you read. Novels, mostly?"
It was a trap. The Earl hated novels.
"I read everything, my Lord," she replied, her voice clear and unafraid. "Though I confess a partiality for history. It is often more amusing than fiction, as the characters make more foolish mistakes."
The Earl paused. "Mistakes?Give me an example."
"Well," Elizabeth mused, "Caesar trusting Brutus. Napoleon invading Russia in winter. Or perhaps... a certain Earl thinking he could intimidate a guest by frowning at her over a fish course."
Silence descended on the table. Darcy dropped his fork. Robert choked on his wine. The Earl stared at Miss Elizabeth. His bushy eyebrows drew together. Then, he threw back his head and roared with laughter.
"Hah! She has teeth! I like her! Fitzwilliam, she has teeth!"
"I am aware, Uncle," Darcy murmured, looking at her with a mixture of terror and absolute worship.
"Good," the Earl pointed his knife at her. "Don't let him bore you, girl. He's a good lad, but he takes himself too seriously. Needs shaking up."
"I am doing my best, my Lord," she smiled.
"Excellent." The Earl turned to Mr Gardiner. "Gardiner, pass the salt. And tell me about this sugar tariff."
Robert relaxed into his chair. He turned to Miss Bennet. "She has conquered him," he whispered. "It took me two and thirty years to get him to laugh at a joke, and she did it in five minutes."
"Lizzy is very brave," the Goddess said proudly. "She is not easily frightened."
"And you?" Robert asked, lowering his voice. "Are you easily frightened?"
She looked at him. Then her eyes landed on the Countess at the head of the table, who was watching them with keen interest. She turned her head to take in the opulence of the room.
"I used to be," she admitted. "I used to be afraid of doing the wrong thing. Of wanting too much."
"And now?"
"Now," she said, her hand brushing his under the table, "I find that what I want is worth the risk."
Robert felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the wine. He squeezed her hand. "I am very glad to hear it."
