“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“On what grounds?”
Her hand tightened slightly against his sleeve.
“A man wants a wife who may conduct his household with ease. Not one who requires adjustment from all around her.”
Darcy’s gaze moved ahead, though his thoughts remained fixed upon her words. He considered them not as an argument to be refuted, but as a belief long held and not easily shaken.
“And if he wants companionship? Judgment? Strength?”
“You make a romantic case.”
“I speak plainly.”
She shook her head.
“The world does not value such things first.”
“The world is often mistaken.”
That startled a faint smile from her.
It was brief, but genuine.
Darcy felt something within him ease at the sight of it.
Still, she said, “I have tried to be content. To wish for nothing beyond what I may reasonably expect.”
“And have you succeeded?”
A soft breath.
“No.”
The word lingered between them.
It was not spoken lightly. He knew that instinctively. It carried with it the weight of something long resisted and only recently acknowledged.
That answer settled something firmly within him.
“You must not think what you offer is small,” he said. “It is not.”
Color rose in her cheeks.
He could not tell whether it came from his words or from the awareness that he had spoken them.
“Any man of sense would value it.”
She looked at him then.
Truly looked.
Not the polite turn of the head she gave in company, not the precise adjustment that allowed her to see more clearly. This was direct, intent, searching in a way that left no room for pretense.
For a moment, he thought she might believe him.
