The Trouble with Mr. Darcy

the man’s habits and schedule. Wickham envisioned greater possibilities and had to constantly remind the maniacal Lord of this fact. The Marquis’s salivation over Darcy being in Hertfordshire—and Wickham having free access to him—was difficult to counter, but Wickham had worked too hard for too many months to act hastily.

He watched and connived for the best solution to hurt Darcy the most and reap the best lasting benefit for him. Knowing that Pemberley was nearly as unassailable as a medieval castle, he turned his attention to London. He spent hours in surveillance of Darcy House, learning the routines of the staff and searching for any weaknesses in the regulated Darcy chain of security. He cataloged each person he saw to ensure that none of them were familiar and, in that respect, he was also fortunate since his past visits to Darcy House were rare and long ago. Mr. Travers was the only one who may remember him, but the butler was easy to avoid since he rarely left the house.

Fully aware of his power over weak-minded, foolish women, Wickham had intended to charm a maid as a possible way into the mansion. Several ideas were formulated, but Mrs. Smyth was a surprising boon. Following her to the market at Covent Gardens on that fateful day was a sheer whim, one undertaken merely to learn more of the staff’s actions. His impulsive introduction was brilliant and he was exceedingly proud of how it was working to his advantage. Once that relationship was established, his pathway to success was obvious. Finally, he had convinced Lord Orman of the plot’s victory, needing only to wait until the Season in Town.

His smile turned to one of sheer lust, groin automatically responding to his imaginings of the pleasure to come that night. Never would he have suspected that his manipulation of the housekeeper would lead to where it had. She proved to be a valuable asset in a host of ways, the bedroom a bonus he received as further indication his plan was bound to succeed. Geoffrey Wiseman’s courtship was considered respectable, so the staff members were comfortable with his occasional presence.

Jumping to his feet with a youthful vigor, he decided to splurge and dine at the Queen’s Diadem. He would dress in his best suit and order the most expensive item on the menu. With a satisfied stomach and a long night of Prudence Smyth’s enthusiasm satiating his other appetite, his strength would be at optimal levels for the momentous days ahead. Perhaps he should bring her a gift, he mused, a trinket to soften her further, although she was quite pliant after they made love and more than willing to rant against her employers. He chuckled, imagining that after a week she would be especially vociferous, providing him with the final details required to carry out his revenge. Better yet, he thought, groin tightening almost painfully, she will be wild in her rage, finding an outlet with a partner more than willing to transfer angry passion into wanton abandon.

Yes, it would be the best Easter of his life.

Chapter Sixteen Disturbing Disclosures

The Monday following Easter dawned as most did these days. That is Lizzy was woken just before the sun made its appearance by the gentle ringing of the dampened bell installed near her side of the bed, alerting of a hungry infant. Some mornings the faint chime roused Darcy as well, the drowsy father asking his wife to bring Michael to the bedchamber for light play before they all returned to sleep for another hour or two. However, most mornings were like today in that he remained asleep, oblivious to his wife’s leaving and returning.

Lizzy fed Michael, a task that took about thirty minutes before he was surfeited and once again asleep at her breast. It was difficult to leave him in these moments of tranquility, his angelic face peaceful as she rocked him. There were times when she simply could not bear to return him to his cradle, opting to stay awake and croon as they swayed together with his warm body pressed to her chest.

This morning, however, Lizzy discovered that her thoughts drifted to the vision of her handsome husband as she had glimpsed him when she cautiously arose to answer Mrs. Hanford’s summons. Therefore, she did not hesitate in laying Michael back into his cradle, sparing only a few minutes to caress and bestow another kiss to his silky forehead. She returned to bed, the glow of golden sunlight illuminating the edges of the heavy curtains and brightening the gloomy chamber. Darcy was precisely as Lizzy had left him: soundly asleep with respirations deep and regular, sprawled on his back with the lightweight coverlet pushed down to below his naval so that his muscular, hair-covered chest was exposed. One hand rested above the coverlet on his abdomen; the right extended and laying in the depression where her body had been as if his subconscious knew she was gone from his side. As always, his full lips were parted, lashes heavy on stubbled cheeks, and hair mussed. To his wife he was the embodiment of sexiness and desire.

She stretched by his naked body, one hand commencing the familiar journey across the hard planes of his chest. She pressed her breasts against the heat of his flesh and placed moist kisses over his neck and jaw. His breath’s cadence altered until it matched her accelerated pace, and his muscles instinctively responded to the tactile stimulation even if his mind was primarily unwitting.

“Fitzwilliam,” she breathed against his ear. “Wake up. I want you.”

“Lizzy.”

She smiled at his sleepy response. He never called her “Lizzy” unless utterly overcome with passion or drowsily reacting to unconscious incitements, such as now. Darcy slept deeply and was slow to gain full awareness, especially when the rousing techniques were pleasurable and smoothly integrated with his dreamy musings.

His half-sleep state did not inhibit him responding in a number of physical ways, however. He turned slightly toward her, seeking the soft, curvy body with hands reaching to cup her breasts for titillating manipulation and a leg lifting to lock around her hips and pull closer. With eyes yet closed, he nonetheless aimed true, locking his lips onto hers for a prolonged, heated kiss.

“Hmmm… Are you awake now?”

“No.”

“No matter. Stay asleep, my darling, and fly through your dreams as I love and adore you.” And with that declaration she firmly pushed him backwards until he again lay flat and commenced a thorough, provocative investigation of all available places.

Darcy smiled with satisfaction. He was awake, of course, his mind no longer fuzzy from sleep, but rather happily dazed with rising sensations as his unparalleled lover worked her magic upon his body.

He loved when she woke him this way and took control! She knew every inch of his flesh better than he, knew precisely how to touch him and play over his body until his ardor rendered him weak with desire. At these times, her passionate nature was unleashed, her abandon a special thrill that lifted his fervor tremendously.

She was so beautiful! Her figure was lithe and sensuous in the pale light with her unbound hair cascading crazily over her slender shoulders with random tresses brushing over her lush breasts. He rested one hand lightly on her hip and spread the other over her belly while observing her glory and sensing every frenzied motion.

He knew—moments before she grasped his wrist and thigh with clenches strong enough to cause bruises if he was not sturdy enough to withstand the pressure—that she was ready to succumb to the spiraling vibrations. She arched over his knees and released a cry of extreme delight with his name interwoven. Every ounce of his considerable restraint was called forth not to ride the tide with her, but his wish was to first savor her happiness. Only when she collapsed onto his chest, shivers and gasps wracking her body, did he take control.

He rolled her over and resumed a gentle rhythm of loving, whispering sweet endearments and erotic phrases. His passion reverberated through his body and transmitted into hers as she progressively reacted with rekindled desire.

It was a morning greeting of the highest order. All concerns flew away, the only care being of that moment and pleasuring each other. Senses ruled and the only sounds were of the elation they acquired in this unique interlude of joining.

The sun was well over the horizon, rays of illumination and warmth reaching above the surrounding London rooftops to touch the garden behind their bedchamber and flood through the curtain gaps. Shadows remained, but a newly dawned day was firmly established before Darcy lifted from his comfortable location nestled into his wife’s neck.

“Good morning,” he whispered, blue eyes shining with love as he brushed his knuckles over her