Page 8 of Honor Requires

Elizabeth folded her arms across her middle, leaning her shoulder lightly against the window frame as her thoughts returned, as they had done many times since that morning, to the gentleman himself.

Mr. Darcy is the handsomest man I have ever met.

The admission would have made her blush had anyone been present to hear it.

His dark hair had been neatly arranged beneath his hat, yet a few rebellious curls had escaped, stirred by the wind that swept along the shore. They had caught the light as he moved, softening what might otherwise have been a severe countenance.

Then there were his eyes. They were unlike any she had ever seen. A startling blue—brighter and more penetrating than seemed quite fair for any one gentleman to possess. When he regarded someone directly, the effect was almost disconcerting, for there was an intensity in his gaze that suggested both keen intelligence and careful restraint.

If ice could be warm, she mused, it would describe his eyes perfectly.

He had looked at her very steadily upon the beach, and though his manners had been impeccable, Elizabeth could not deny that she had felt the impact of his attention.

And he was tall—remarkably tall.

Her father was a tall man, standing nearly six feet in height, yet Mr. Darcy had surpassed even him. When he had risen from the sand and bowed, brushing grains from his coat with calm dignity, Elizabeth had been forced to tilt her head to meet his gaze.

The recollection made her laugh.

And to think Bruno ran the poor man down!

Elizabeth shook her head, half in amusement and half in lingering embarrassment.

How grateful she was that Mr. Darcy had stepped in front of his sister without hesitation—and that he had not scolded Elizabeth for losing control of her dog. Many gentlemen would have done so, and with considerable justice.

Instead, he had bowed, pretending that being knocked to the ground by a Great Dane was a perfectly ordinary occurrence.

Her affection for Bruno returned immediately. The great dog presently lay sprawled across the floor near the hearth, his enormous paws twitching slightly in his sleep. He was still very much a puppy.

Her uncle’s gift of the dog had been unexpected but welcome, and though her mother had declared the creature a monstrous addition to the household, Elizabeth had been thoroughly enchanted. He had been all awkward limbs and solemn eyes when he first arrived—his paws far too large for the rest of him and his snout constantly sniffing about in hopeful pursuit of biscuits or scraps. He remained much the same now.

But he was loving beyond measure, eager to please, and possessed of a loyalty that warmed Elizabeth’s heart. She worked with him daily, determined that he should grow into a well-trained companion rather than the menace her mother feared he might become. One of her uncle’s clerks had experience with dogs, and he had shown her several useful methods for training. Together they were making progress.

Though Bruno still possessed a remarkable ability to charge enthusiastically in precisely the wrong direction.

Elizabeth smiled fondly at the sleeping animal. “Your mischief has introduced me to very agreeable acquaintances,” she murmured.

At that moment the door opened, and Mrs. Gardiner entered the room carrying a letter.

“My dear Elizabeth, you will be interested in this.”

Elizabeth turned immediately.

“A note, Aunt? From whom?”

“From Mill House—where the Darcys have taken residence.”

Elizabeth’s heart gave an unmistakable little leap.

Mrs. Gardiner regarded her with a knowing smile. “It appears our new acquaintances have not forgotten us.”

Elizabeth crossed the room quickly as her aunt broke the seal.

“The invitation is for Tuesday next,” Mrs. Gardiner enthused. “Mr. Darcy requests the pleasure of our company at dinner.”

Elizabeth felt the thrill travel through her before she could prevent it. “How very kind.”

Mrs. Gardiner glanced at her niece over the edge of the letter. “Yes, I thought you might say so.”