Page 31 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

“He will not,” Jane said, though her own breath caught with every movement.

Emelia leaned forward slightly, the faintest smile curving her lips.

Darcy watched them more than she watched the performance. For the first time in years, their expressions held neither strain nor careful restraint, only wonder.

A fierce rush of emotion rose within Darcy. Her sisters were happy. Darcy had seen them smile often, had even known moments when they seemed to accept their circumstances with quiet resignation, yet she had not witnessed such unguarded joy in a very long while. She cast a sidelong glance at the earl as he walked beside her, his stride measured, his expression composed in polite civility and little else. There was something undeniably peculiar about him, and perhaps even intriguing.

She could not discern his thoughts, nor fully comprehend what had prompted this unexpected generosity.

The man at her side bore little resemblance to the one she had encountered at the pleasure palace. This version of him was restrained, cool, and possessed of a proud indifference that kept the world at a careful distance. Yet the man she had met at Aphrodite was altogether different, alive with a dangerous allure, his eyes gleaming with wicked temptation, his mouth curved in a knowing smile, his attention sharp and watchful in a way that had unsettled her far more than she cared to admit.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said softly.

“There is no need for thanks.”

“I would still offer it,” Darcy replied, her voice quiet but sincere. “I have not seen my sisters so at ease, or so happy, in years.”

For a moment, something shifted in his expression. Then it was gone. He inclined his head. “Then the evening has already served its purpose.” His features settled into composure, though the quiet answer lingered with more significance than he appeared willing to grant it.

Darcy studied him for the briefest moment, something uncertain stirring within her, before she turned her attention back to her sisters. The evening continued to unfold through a succession of small delights. They walked beneath avenues of light, pausing to watch musicians and singers performing for the gathered crowds. Sarah and Jane delighted in a puppet show that drew peals of laughter from the surrounding children. The gardens offered fresh wonders, each turn of the path revealing something new, something brighter, more enchanting than the last.

Darcy allowed herself, little by little, to be drawn into the entire experience.

The laughter, music, and warmth of the night worked upon her senses until the tightness she carried began to loosen. For a time, she forgot the weight of worrying about their futures and how she would adequately provide for her family. Yet always, at the edge of her awareness, she felt him beside her, neither intruding nor pressing, but simply present.

The sun sank toward the horizon, and a soft gray light draped the sky as evening stole quietly upon them. They had spent over an hour promenading along the Grand Walk when the first burst of light split the sky. A sharp crack sounded above them, followed by a bloom of brilliant color that unfurled across the darkness in shimmering gold. Another followed, and then another, until the sky was alive with fire and light, cascading in radiant patterns that drew gasps from the assembled crowd.

Sarah clapped her hands together, her laughter ringing out. “Oh! Look!”

Jane tilted her face upward, her eyes wide, reflecting the dazzling display. “It is like the stars have fallen,” she murmured.

Emelia, quieter in her pleasure, watched everything with a thoughtful gaze, an occasional delighted laugh escaping her. Darcy had seen fireworks before, though never in such profusion, never in such splendor. The colors seemed richer here, the sound deeper, as though the very air held the echo of each brilliant explosion. Another flare burst overhead and scattered sparks that lingered for a breath before fading into darkness.

Darcy laughed freely and without restraint. For a moment, she forgot herself entirely, pushing aside every caution and the ladylike composure expected in the presence of an earl.

“Come,” the earl said after several minutes of watching the brilliant fireworks. “There is more yet to see.”

“Surely not,” Sarah exclaimed, a delighted laugh escaping her. “I cannot imagine what else there could be. This is already so absolutely wonderful!”

He guided them away from the throng gathered beneath the fireworks and along a side avenue, where the sounds of applause and lively exclamations grew stronger with each step. The path opened onto a broad clearing, ringed with lanterns, where a crowd had gathered in a loose circle. At its center, a rope had been stretched taut between two raised platforms. A tightrope walker moved upon it with astonishing grace, his steps measured and sure, his balance so precise it seemed almost effortless. Below, another performer leaped and turned, his movements swift and fluid, drawing cries of delight and alarm from those who watched.

Sarah clutched Darcy’s arm. “He will fall,” she whispered, though she did not look away. “How can he twist himself so and go so high? He will surely fall and break his neck!”

“He will not,” Jane replied, though her own breath caught as the man paused mid-step and dipped precariously before righting himself.

Darcy leaned forward, her attention wholly captured. When the performer swayed again, her heart leaped into her throat. “Oh!” she cried, her hand rising instinctively as though she might steady him from afar.

The crowd erupted in applause as he regained his balance on the rope and continued, undeterred. Darcy laughed then, the sound bright and breathless. She did not at first notice the earl watching her. Only when the sensation settled upon her, subtle yet unmistakable, did Darcy become aware of it. His quiet, steady attention seemed to rest upon her alone, a sensation she recognized from the provocative regard he bestowed upon Red at Aphrodite. A most peculiar thrill brushed over her skin and set her heart racing.

She boldly turned her head and found his gaze fixed upon her. There was something in Lord Raine’s expression she did not recognize. It was not the cool civility he had worn throughout the evening, nor the sharp amusement she had glimpsed before. It was more intent, as though he studied her with a purpose she could not discern.

Darcy arranged her features into what she hoped was a suitably curious expression. “You stare, my lord.”

“You possess a most arresting laugh,” he said. “I had not expected to find the sound so lovely.”

Her heart faltered. Heat rose swiftly to her cheeks, her composure slipping in a way that felt both unfamiliar and entirely disconcerting. Darcy quickly turned her gaze away, though she was keenly aware of him still.

“Do not say such things, my lord,” she murmured, striving for lightness, though her voice lacked its usual steadiness. “You will make me quite vain.”