Page 3

“What are you saying? You are still young. Too young to speak as though your future as a mother is an impossibility when you have so many years ahead of you.”

“No. That is just the thing. No such possibility exists for me: marriage to a man whom I might respect and children—a son to inherit Longbourn and daughters.”

“What is keeping you from having those things?”

“I am obligated to marry a man who is not only ridiculous, but I recently learned he is im—” Elizabeth drew in a deep breath, attempting to collect herself. “He is⁠—”

“He is what?”

“He is impotent!” There, for the first time, she had spoken the word out loud. Saying it aloud, however, did not take away the shock of it all. It only caused her to feel worse.

“Your intended is impotent, and yet you have agreed to marry him?”

She nodded. “I—I really do not know if I should be telling you any of this, sir. I have told no one—not even my sister Jane, from whom I have no secrets.”

Elizabeth took a sip of water. She had come to Netherfield to tell Jane about her intended’s duplicity, but before she could manage to speak the words, she learned that her sister was with child. Elizabeth did not have the heart to confide her troubles to her sister and rob her of her joy.

“Suddenly it dawned on me,” she said, fighting back her tears, “that the joy my sister now knows, I shall never know, and I began to comprehend just how much I am forfeiting for the sake of this alliance. Once I was away from Jane and the rest of the party, I simply panicked and cried.”

“This is a burden which you still wish to share, else you would not have cried yourself to sleep. How long have you known?”

“I only learned of it today. I know I should not have listened to what was meant to be a private conversation between the gentleman—my intended and his valet, but he is so odd a man that I found myself wanting to discover anything and everything I could to make sense of his character.”

Helpless to do otherwise in the face of her anguish, Elizabeth wept.

* * *

Darcy removed the glass from her hand and placed it on the bedside table. He then took Elizabeth in his arms. “There—there. Cry to your heart’s content.”

He brushed a light kiss on her forehead. The smell of her hair invigorated him, as did her soft skin. He lifted her face and studied her tear-filled eyes. He would do anything to take away her sadness—to reassure her she was a desirable woman; a woman any man would be blessed to call his own. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against hers.

He had meant to comfort her—really, he had. But her response to his kiss encouraged something more. Their eyes closed, their lips parted, and then his kiss became their kiss: sweet and tender, unhurried and undemanding.

I need this, Darcy silently conceded, not wanting to concern himself with thoughts of guilt and only wanting to please. Growing increasingly aware that the desirable woman in his arms was no unknown stranger in the night but rather his friend’s sister, he suffered a steadily mounting degree of contrition. On the other hand, they were two consenting adults. Yes, she was engaged to another—a ridiculous man by her own account and one whom she vowed she could never love, but she was not married yet.

Is there any harm in the two of us behaving accordingly? Their kiss grew more ardent, rendering his silent question a moot point.

She is vulnerable—I ought not to take advantage of her fragile state of mind.

He pulled away, breaking their kiss. “I should leave. I⁠—”

Chapter 3

For the first time in Elizabeth’s life, a man’s lips touched hers—warm lips that were ever so moist, so sweet, and so inviting. The chaste kisses on the chin suffered on her wedding day would never have led to anything remotely akin to this. Of that, she was quite persuaded.

I believe if I can have one night in the arms of this man, I will carry the memory with me for the rest of my life.

Comforted by this man, Elizabeth was sure she did not wish to be parted with him so soon. “Stay with me.”

“Are you certain you know what you are about?” Cupping her chin, he brushed his lips against hers once more.

“If I stay,” he whispered, at length, “I will not be sleeping in a chair, longing to hold you—keeping myself at a safe distance while aching to hold you, wanting to make you mine. I promise you that.”

She placed her hand against his chest. Trying desperately not to gasp aloud by the way this made her feel and leaning closer, she brushed her lips against his chin. She whispered in his ear, “Stay with me.”

It was enough said. The gentleman made quick work of removing his boots. Then he stood up from the bed and faced her.

Elizabeth watched as he pulled the shirt over his head. The tall, handsome stranger had all the best parts of beauty imaginable. He was everything one would expect in a nighttime dream come true, for she was absolutely persuaded that was indeed what she was suffering.