“Very well,” he said, his tone petulant as he gave her one last kiss and offered her his arm. “But I demand the last dance of the evening.”

Elizabeth smoothed her gown and smiled as she took his proffered arm. “I would never have it any other way, Mr. Darcy. You shall always have the last dance of the evening.”

Chapter 31

The month of March arrived in much the same manner as that of a hungry lion—ferocious and unpredictable. The Darcys found themselves overwhelmed by countless social obligations, many of which the couple would have been perfectly content to forego. Nevertheless, at the urging of Lord and Lady Matlock, they steeled themselves and accepted the invitations with a sigh of resignation. There were still many within the exalted ranks of the ton who had not yet had an opportunity to make the acquaintance of the new Mrs. Darcy and, thus, were hesitant to accept the descriptions circulating about her being a witty and intelligent lady, rather than a clever fortune hunter who had used her arts and allurements to seduce the ever-vigilant master of Pemberley.

Throughout it all, Elizabeth bore with finesse the tedium of attending such events. To those who had come to know her well, it was no surprise to see her charming many of the naysayers with her easy, unaffected manners, her intelligent repartee, and her reputed beauty. Her affection for her husband—and his for her—was apparent to all who saw them together, and except for a handful of bitter mamas and their petulant daughters, who had long had their sights set on the highly coveted gentleman from Derbyshire, Elizabeth’s introduction to most of those who moved within the higher circles of London society was declared a success.

As the first day of spring approached, so did Jane’s wedding to Bingley. It was with great relief and a lightness of spirit that the inhabitants of Darcy House quitted London and headed for Hertfordshire once again. The trip was easier going than the one they had made previously. Elizabeth was now far enough along in her pregnancy to be feeling quite well all of the time. She no longer experienced bouts of nausea, fits of light-headedness, exhaustion, or much discomfort of any kind, to the immense relief of her husband.

Darcy had always admired her slender waist and inviting curves, but with the onset of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, he was surprised to find even more to admire in his wife’s figure. The knowledge that she was carrying his child in her womb was enough to send a flood of warmth through him, but the added inducement of seeing the slight bulge of Elizabeth’s increasing waist, her widening hips, and the more pronounced swell of her breasts was enough to drive him to distraction. She seemed to glow from within and, to Darcy’s very great pleasure, had an almost insatiable desire to lie with him at all hours of the day. He was always willing to oblige her.

Rather than sitting beside his wife on the carriage ride to Hertfordshire, Darcy found himself occupying the seat opposite her. Georgiana had never been able to ride backward in a coach for more than a few miles, and as Elizabeth had recently discovered that facing any direction other than forward agitated the heir of Pemberley and, thus, the contents of her stomach, Darcy was forced to endure a long, agonizing ride in which his eyes were constantly focused upon his wife’s most intoxicating attributes.

To her amusement, Elizabeth caught him staring at her bouncing breasts many times as the carriage rocked and swayed over the bumpy roads. Darcy’s lips would part, and his tongue would dart out to moisten them; his eyes would flare, and then, just as quickly, he would avert them, crossing and recrossing his legs as he stared out of the window with a heavy sigh or an occasional quiet groan, his desire for Elizabeth apparent.

Elizabeth smiled at his obvious vexation. She passed the time by chatting with Georgiana and Lydia—who remained with them still—and, to add fuel to an already blazing inferno, Elizabeth further amused herself by attempting to draw her suffering husband into whatever conversation happened to be at hand, but with little success. From the dark, penetrating looks he sent from across the coach, she was left in little doubt that he had no desire whatsoever to engage in any such act with her, but rather a different act altogether, and one that did not require words.

Indeed, once they had arrived at a small inn where they had determined to stop and water the horses, it had taken all of Elizabeth’s powers of persuasion to convince Darcy that demanding a room for a mere hour would very likely give rise to talk, to say nothing of the reactions they would receive from their impressionable, young traveling companions.

“I hardly care what anyone will say,” he whispered urgently as he leaned in close. His hot breath against her neck caused her to stumble as they followed Georgiana and Lydia while the innkeeper’s wife led them to a private parlor abovestairs. He placed his hand upon the small of her back to steady her and stroked his thumb in a lazy, circular motion. “I daresay our sisters shall think only that you need to rest. Elizabeth, I am begging you! I will never survive this torturous ride to Hertfordshire without first burying myself within you, teasing woman.”

Elizabeth blushed at his uttering such words in public and shook her head, causing the curls framing her face to bob. A slight smile of satisfaction quirked her lips. “I am afraid you will just have to wait, Mr. Darcy, but,” she murmured seductively, “I can safely promise you that the reward you will receive for your patience shall be well worth the effort of your restraint.”

They entered a modestly furnished but pleasant private dining parlor and took a seat at the table. The proximity of their two sisters restricted their continuing with such a topic, but the master and mistress of Pemberley were now seated close enough for Darcy to place his hand upon Elizabeth’s leg—quite unnoticed—and caress the length of her thigh with his fingertips. If, in the course of conversation, she happened to falter somewhat or drop her fork during the meal, wisely, no one ventured any comment.

*   *   *

True to her word, after their arrival at Netherfield Park, Elizabeth did indeed reward the master of Pemberley most handsomely for his saintly patience. After exchanging the required pleasantries with their host and hostess, Elizabeth led Darcy upstairs to what they had now come affectionately to think of as their own room in Bingley’s house. The following hour or so was spent expressing their fervent passion for each other—several times—and, though Darcy and Elizabeth tried to be discreet about their chosen activity, they found it difficult not to voice at least some of the pleasure they were giving—and receiving—from each other’s society.

After resting and bathing, the entire party dressed for dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, Mary, Kitty, and Jane, who had returned from Town the previous week with the Gardiners, would be joining them that evening for a family dinner. As it seemed to be taking Elizabeth far longer to complete her toilette than it had taken Darcy to perform his ablutions, he informed her of his intention to pass a quarter of an hour or so in the billiard room with Bingley and made his way toward the main staircase. On his way, he met Lydia.

He bowed to her and said, “You look lovely, Lydia. Is that not one of the gowns Georgiana urged you to purchase? The color suits you very well.”

Lydia smiled at such a generous compliment from her brother-in-law. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I received the gown just yesterday from Bond Street. I have another for Jane’s wedding and also for the ball Mr. Bingley will hold in her honor tomorrow night.”

Darcy smiled. “I am glad to hear it. According to your mother, a lady can never have enough gowns.”

Lydia’s expression grew serious, and she said, “I have been wondering, Mr. Darcy…”

Darcy waited, then inclined his head and raised one brow.

“I have been wondering if I might speak to you of something very particular?” she asked. Seeing her brother- in-law, again, incline his head, she forged on, this time in a rush. “I have been talking to Georgiana about it, you see, and she said she thinks it a very good idea, and that I should ask you and Lizzy—especially you—but I am afraid I cannot possibly tell you unless it is in some place more private. I could not bear it if anyone else were to overhear. Especially Miss Bingley. She can be an awful, gossiping shrew, you know, and—” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Lord! Forgive me. I know I should not have spoken so. And I have been doing so well, too. Lizzy would be very disappointed in me.”

A smile threatened to turn up the corners of Darcy’s mouth, and he cleared his throat to regain his composure. “No, indeed, you should not, but I do hope you know you may always speak with me of anything you like, Lydia. And, if you prefer, Elizabeth need not hear of this slip of the tongue. It can remain just between us.”

Lydia gave him a small smile, and he escorted her to a well-lit parlor, which happened to be fortuitously

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