Page 107 of Honor Requires

“You are fortunate,” Elizabeth added. “To have such loyalty.”

Darcy’s gaze lingered upon her for a fraction longer than propriety required.

“As are those who inspire it.”

The words appeared to be chosen with care, but there was something in them—something unmistakably personal—that sent a faint warmth to her cheeks.

“You compliment me, sir,” she said, though her voice was steadier than she felt.

“I state a truth.”

She looked away, unable to bear the full pressure of his regard.

They moved through another figure.

“You read, I think,” he said after a moment.

Elizabeth blinked, caught off guard. “I do.”

“I suspected as much.”

“And what gave you that impression?” she asked, a hint of her old playfulness returning despite herself.

Darcy’s mouth curved faintly. “You observe too much to be content with surface alone.”

Elizabeth almost laughed.

Glancing around at the crowded ballroom, she said, “This is hardly the place for discussing books.”

“No,” he agreed. “It is not.”

“Though I imagine,” she replied lightly, “you might have opinions worth hearing.”

Darcy’s expression softened—just enough. “I might.”

She looked at him then, and for one fleeting, fragile instant, the reserve fell away. She saw him. Not the count. Not the expertly curated stranger. But him.

“—it is you,” she whispered. The words escaped before she could stop them.

Darcy’s expression changed at once. The warmth vanished, the composure returned. The careful distance reasserted itself almost like a door had been shut between them; the moment was gone.

Elizabeth felt the loss of it like a physical thing.

The dance ended. He escorted her from the floor in silence, his hand at her elbow steady but impersonal. When they reached her party, he bowed to Lady Matlock, to Bramley, to Jane, offering polite farewells with the ease of a man entirely in command of himself.

“I shall not remain longer this evening,” he said. “I wish you all a pleasant night.” Then he turned and left.

Elizabeth stood very still.

“Lizzy?” Jane’s voice came again, concerned now. “You look unwell.”

“My head aches,” Elizabeth said quickly. “I think I must return home.”

“Of course,” Jane said at once. “You must not stay if you are unwell. Bramley—”

“I will see the carriage called,” Bramley said.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I shall manage. Pray do not leave on my account. I shall send the carriage back for you.”