Page 241 of The Long Road Back to Yesterday

The crowded ballroom passed around them as they moved through the dance. Anne had danced with several agreeable gentlemen that evening, but dancing with Richard pulled at her in a way the others had not. She was conscious of the pressure of his hand at her waist and the familiar scent of his cologne.

When she looked up, her gaze traveled along the curve of his jaw until she found him watching her.

Anne held his gaze as they moved into the next turn.

* * *

In the weeks that followed, Richard and Anne spent more and more time together.

One morning Richard was sitting at breakfast when Anne entered. She filled her plate at the sideboard and took the chair beside him.

Richard reached for her hand. “I was waiting for you.”

Anne smiled at him.

He held her hand across the small distance between their chairs. “I wish we did not have to part at night, Annie.”

A soft flush colored her cheeks.

“I love you, darling.”

Anne squeezed his hand, her eyes bright.

“I think I have been falling in love with you for weeks.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I love you too, Richard.”

He brought her hand to his lips. “Then marry me, Annie. I want to wake every morning knowing I shall find you lying beside me. I do not want to say good night and watch you go upstairs knowing I cannot follow you.”

Anne’s cheeks grew warmer, but she did not look away. “Then I think we had better marry, Richard.”

Richard rose and drew her to her feet.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes. I will marry you.”

He slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her.

When he lifted his head, Anne wrapped her arms around his neck. “I have loved you for longer than you have loved me.”

Richard smiled. “Have you?”

“Yes. I simply did not know what it was until you began looking at me as though I were someone other than your cousin.”

He touched her cheek. “You are very much more than my cousin, Annie.”

She leaned into his hand. “Kiss me again, dear cousin.”

Chapter 61: Wickham

Kendall placed his written report on Darcy’s desk and waited while he read the first page.

Darcy had reached the second before he looked up. “How certain are you that this is the same George Wickham?”

“Quite certain, sir. We traced his movements backward from the time he joined the militia in Meryton. He spent several weeks moving between London and Hertfordshire before accepting his commission, and shortly before that he was a guest at Sir Edmund Harcourt’s estate.”

Darcy looked back at the report. “How did Wickham come to be invited there?”